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GAF Critique-Age: Because writing a novel gets the girls

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Feep

Banned
Hi, GAF. I have a favor to ask!

I've been writing a novel for around seven months now, and just all like the fat wannabe Tolkien's out there, it's fantasy (albeit, far removed from all that dragon-and-dwarves nonsense). I just finished Chapter 17 (out of 40), but hell, the opener is where readers are won or lost. So, if you're exceptionally bored, take a look at yon Chapter the First and tell me what you think. Or post pictures of funny animals. Or both. Your call.

Thanks!




“Civil unrest reported.”

Naia hated that voice.

“Location confirmed at Korran Terrace, threat level moderate. All available personnel to deploy within twelve minutes.”

The echo of the alarm rattled through sickbay, further agitating the headache that had persisted throughout the day. She shut her eyes, grinding her teeth. It was the third deployment in less than thirty-six hours, but there was very little she could do. She was a soldier. Soldiers do as they’re told.

She abandoned the promise of a lightshock and raced down the metal corridors to her barracks. A rookie could easily lose themselves in these cold, industrial hallways, with only the ever-present arcs of harsh electricity above to guide them. Not her: most of her childhood was set on this backdrop of cold iron, and the days had long past where navigation was anything but trivial.

So, as she walked, she thought about the last few days and that first riot—that’s what they were, angry, frustrated people rioting in the streets— at Korran Terrace, that hotbed of smoldering resent. One of her squadmates had been badly wounded by the mob, his bladesuit thoroughly destroyed and his arm bent a grotesque ninety degrees the wrong way. She had been forced to activate the telescoping spikes that covered her own bladesuit to drag her comrade to safety. He had spat at the crowd as the two retreated back to their combat unit. He, like most of the soldiers, despised civilians. They caused pain, confusion, and chaos through their riots, and to what end? What more could the Empress give them?

She was removed from her thoughts by a light, singsong voice. “Kay-Tee again, yeah? Better blade up quick, sweetie. Eight minutes till round two,” said Kirina, violet eyes sparkling maliciously.

Kirina, bloodthirsty as she was, was Naia’s roommate and only real friend. She was also, at her young age, the finest bladesman under Her Majesty’s command. That skill, and her rather stunning beauty, gave her a natural arrogance that seemed to drive men mad…that, and her tendency to treat males as throwaway commodities. Her black hair, though normally arranged in some elaborate pattern, was tied back for the upcoming deployment. Her body was unfazed by the rigors of battle; she was nothing but curves.

While not unattractive, Naia chose not to flaunt herself. She kept her dark blonde hair cut short and her chest wrapped tight. The boys here were just that, boys, and they needed no additional provocation to do something stupid.

Kirina smiled. “You’re too slow, sweetie. Catch up to me in a bit, okay?” And she took off down the hallway toward deployment.

Naia sighed, and looked around the room. She could blade up in under a minute and reach deployment in another two, so she had some time to kill, so long as she could ignore the flashing red arcs above her head. There were hardly any entertainment options in the austere barracks: no unnecessary equipment permitted. So, she stretched out on her bunk, put her hands behind her head, and hummed softly to herself as the soldiers outside scurried to and fro.



Korran Terrace was only thirty minutes away by transport, and Naia spent most of the ride performing maintenance on her bladesuit. She glanced over at Kirina from time to time, flirting with some of the newer recruits. The older ones, it seemed, knew better, and kept their distance appropriately.

Her bladesuit was the only material possession Naia cared much about. As a young girl, enthralled by its design and elegance, she’d often stolen trips to the engineering division which handled the research and development of the military’s standard weapon. The material of the suit was pitch black, a kind of dense padding that still allowed a relatively free range of motion. On the right forearm was its primary weapon, a gleaming chrome attachment from which a three-foot-long, double-edged sword extended and retracted with fluid speed. On the left forearm was a similar attachment that unfurled quickly into an ovoid shield. The left unit also concealed two large silver bolts that could be fired as ranged attacks.

Defensively, much of the suit was covered in spike strips to protect the shoulders, upper arms, chest, and legs. Upon activation, a thick bed of needle points would spring up to protect these areas. Each individual spike strip, as well as the blade, shield, and projectile bolts, were controlled with a complex series of pressure pads in both gloves. It took months of training to grow proficient with the system, but it became almost impossible to wrest control of the suit from its owner. There was also a large device situated between the shoulder blades for emergency situations, its inclusion insisted upon by the Empress herself.

The suit was fueled by a small power pack on the small of the back. Not much energy was required, and so a power pack could go weeks, even months, without needing to be recharged. Even now, Naia could feel its gentle heat radiating against her skin.

She had the blade extended, wiping clean the almost-invisible partitions between the segments of metal. It was a thing of beauty.

The transport rumbled, slowing to a stop. Naia retracted her blade and stood with the rest, falling into the standard exit formation. Kirina stood at the front. She was always so eager.

The doors opened, and blinding starlight poured into the vehicle. The soldiers scrambled out.



“Fifth Squad, northern spread!” shouted the Lead Civil. Naia’s ears perked up; that was her unit. They had already taken care of the mob that had arrived at their transport doors. There were few resistance leaders out in this area, and without an organizer, the riots were unfocused and ineffective. Their anger would propel them toward the soldiers, but the sight of razor-sharp metal drove them back again. A few demonstrative arrests later, the people had scattered.

No, the dangerous ones were the ones hell-bent on simply creating chaos: destroying buildings with crude explosives and injuring government employees, combat units or not. They were not unintelligent, preferring to move through the shadows and sow dissent rather than confront a bladesuit directly. Her unit was to split up and trace through the streets, tracking and arresting what rebels they could along the way.

The Lead Civil, after studying his large map for a few seconds, finally finished delegating orders to the other squads. Naia didn’t much like the man, a portly fellow well into his later years. The Lead Civil was in charge of coordinating all military activity directly related to civil disturbances, which these days happened to be all military activity. Alkira had no external enemies or warring nations with which to contend; it occupied all available landmass and directly ruled over every person on the shell. The Lead Civil seemed to dislike soldiers in general, and vehemently disagreed with many of the Her Majesty’s decisions. She’d seen their debates several times, the intractably stubborn advisor practically screaming at his impassive monarch. What right had he to treat the Empress so? He had no respect for royalty.

“Ready, sweetie?” asked Kirina. She impatiently extended her blade out-and-in, out-and-in. The Lead Civil encouraged soldiers to work in tandem whenever possible, and Naia was the only partner Kirina seemed to tolerate.

“Not really,” responded Naia, her headache as intense as ever, but they began northward through Korran Terrace’s twisting streets. Korran Terrace was on an edge, and was thus better-off than most areas. It was surprising that rebel activity seemed to be so common here, where the people could generally afford the water taxes and the relative population density was well below average. The streets, though as metallic and unattractive as any in Alkira, were in good condition. People could be unhappy anywhere, Naia supposed. Cultural relativism and all that.

The engineers had made some impressive progress in structural integrity in recent years, and in very few places could it be seen as well as in Korran Terrace. Some buildings, composed of a very light iron alloy, stretched up to fifteen stories or more. These towers induced a bit of claustrophobia as Naia navigated through the winding roads. When all land was occupied, the only place left to go was up.

"Where’s the damage?” asked Naia. They’d seen nothing but small, isolated fires: nothing out of control.

“Waiting for us, I’d imagine,” Kirina replied. “Look at them, there, hiding in the dark.” She pointed into an alley, and several frightened faces retreated quickly out of sight. “Think any of them wouldn’t jump at the chance to attack us?”

“They can’t stand us, can they?”

Kirina smiled. “Not in the slightest. That’s fine with me; peace breeds boredom, and I won’t stand for it.”

“You’re really twisted, you know? The Empress—“

An explosion rang through the air behind them, nearly knocking Naia off her feet. Streaks of fire trailed through the air; Naia’s and Kirina’s shields extended instantly to protect them. Naia also activated her blade; the polished metal slid forth from her arm with a soft hiss. Kirina’s had been ready.

Naia lowered her shield and surveyed the damage. People were panicking, and with good reason. The base of a twelve-story municipal complex had been severely damaged. Very few of the common building materials on Alkira were flammable, but the heat had badly weakened much of the foundation. The building was leaning dangerously to one side, and Naia could see men and women screaming from the windows. The Lead Civil had surely noticed the explosion and sent a rescue team straight away. Naia could stay and help…but those weren’t her orders. Her orders were to find the one responsible.

The two charged into the throngs of people fleeing from the scene, masses parting in fear before them. Scanning the field, Naia tried to discern anyone not in an obvious state of distress, but the surrounding chaos hindered her vision. The people ran by her on either side, screaming, and there was one who wasn’t even getting out of her way….

Only by a fraction of a second did Naia’s shield come up to block the shank, aimed directly for her unprotected upper neck. The attacker, a bald but well-built man with a gleeful hatred on his face, wheeled back to escape the reach of her blade. He was fast.

Kirina stepped in front of Naia, a gleam in her violet eyes. “I’ll take care of him.”

“We can both—“

“I’ll take care of him,” she repeated. Naia sighed and stepped away. There was little point in arguing with her.

Kirina slipped into a combat stance, dancing forward haphazardly. She backed him against the side of a building, and just as he bumped up against the wall, she lunged. He dodged to the side, barely avoiding her blade; the tip struck the wall with a metallic clang. She pirouetted out of the path of his counter, and lunged once more. This time, the blade found its way into the man’s right shoulder, and he howled in pain. He managed to pull away, left hand clutching the open wound. He weighed his chances against the demonically quick soldier before him, and Naia behind her, and decided that fleeing was a more realistic alternative. He turned and took flight. Kirina tsked.

“Not much of a man,” she quipped, and the two darted after him.

The chase was more difficult than Naia had been expecting. Even with the wound slowing him, the insurgent was nearly as fast as they were; he knew the area far better than either of them. He cut into side streets and attempted to lose them in the sprawling metropolis; slowly, however, the girls were gaining ground. He couldn’t hide: his trail of blood would give him away. He was about to be arrested, tried, and imprisoned for years of his life, and he knew it. When he glanced back, there was a growing terror in his eyes. The chase continued, even as a deafening boom behind her signified the collapse of the municipal complex.

Abruptly, another man came charging and screaming from the shadows, slamming Kirina to the ground. They rolled around, Kirina attempting to prevent the much larger man from pinning her.

“Go on!” she shouted at Naia. “Take care of the coward!” Naia quickly resumed the pursuit, leaving her squadmate to fend for herself.

She weaved through alleys and archways, closing the distance between them. They were heading for the edge, and he was running out of room. The guardrail stood only a few dozen yards before them, but—and he saw her!—there was a girl, staring off into the distance. She was much younger than Naia, her hair still in short braids. The man immediately turned and raced straight for her.

“By the guardrail, move! Get out of here!” Naia shouted futilely. Only until the insurgent was directly behind her did she even start to turn, and by then, it was too late. He grabbed her, smoothly pressing his gleaming shard of metal up against her pale neck, and the girl screamed. Naia stopped cold. She glared coldly at the bald man; his grin had returned.

“Is this what you call freedom fighting?” she asked. “Holding innocents at knifepoint?”

“Lesser evils to combat the greater.” The girl was still struggling, to no avail.

“Let her go.”

“Okay. Weapons away. Off the gloves.”

Naia took a deep breath, concentrating. Her head was still throbbing. The man jerked the knife up, drawing a bit of blood from the girl’s neck, and she whimpered softly. Finally, Naia sighed, retracted her blade and shield, and removed her gloves. She noticed the man’s eyes widen curiously at the black symbol embedded onto the back of her right hand as she dropped the gloves to the ground.

“Satisfied?” she asked darkly.

“Not quite,” the man said, still clutching onto the girl. “You military filth need to answer for your crimes. I’m going to—“

He was never able to finish. Naia calmly raised her left arm and fired one of her two silver bolts straight into the man’s skull. A look of bewildered horror barely had time to imprint itself onto his face before he fell to the ground, dead. Naia bent down to retrieve her gloves: a marvel of engineering indeed. Her single command had been delayed on a ten second timer. The command executed regardless of further input.

The girl, aghast at the execution carried out before her eyes, backed away against the guardrail in horror.

“It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore,” Naia spoke in a soothing voice. “Can you come back to base with me? I’ll need a report, and then we can get that cut treated properly.”

“Y-you killed him!”

“He would have done the same to you.”

“No! He wouldn’t…none of them would, it was just a bluff, they—“

“Those men are criminals. Radicals. They hurt everyone around them, without exception. Please, come with me.” Naia took a step toward her, and immediately regretted it. The girl screamed again, took a step back against the guardrail, and turned to climb it. She fell to the other side, landing on her stomach, and scrambled to her feet.

“That’s dangerous! Please, come back over, I won’t—“

"Get AWAY from me!” the girl shouted frantically, backing toward the edge. She was only a few feet away; was she hoping Naia wouldn’t follow? She took another step back…

And the ground beneath her feet gave way, scattering weightlessly into the air. She fell straight down, arms flailing, and at the last second caught on to a sturdier bit of rock. Naia vaulted over the guardrail and reached down, offering her hand. The girl shook her head wildly, irrationally refusing Naia’s help, pulling away…

And the girl’s fingers slipped, her final shriek echoing in Naia’s ears. Naia could not wrest her eyes away as she fell from Alkira, fell from the third shell of the world, down to the horrible second shell beneath, as she grew smaller and smaller until, some thirty seconds later, Naia knew that the girl’s short life had come to a very abrupt end.
 

PacoDG

Member
I don't like any space-military themes (for the most part), so the content itself doesn't really draw me in. However, I did read it all, and I think you are a good writer, very descriptive of what is going on, keep it up and stuff.
 

Feep

Banned
PacoDG said:
I don't like any space-military themes (for the most part), so the content itself doesn't really draw me in. However, I did read it all, and I think you are a good writer, very descriptive of what is going on, keep it up and stuff.
There are alas no excursions into space, but there is a healthy dose of military shenanigans throughout. Thanks for your feedback!
 
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