PDA

View Full Version : Character Exploration: Eric Vorhang



Khendon Sevon
Jan 15th, 2007, 10:17:39 PM
Eric wrapped his hand firmly around the support strut for his bunk bed and squeezed tight. The metal was cool underneath his whitening fingers. “One-one-thousand,” he mumbled in his gruff voice, “two-one-thousand…” His eyes were pulled closed like storm shutters at the sight of yellow skies. A cool mist escaped his mouth.

The mechanical voice over the loud speaker sizzled and popped to life as its faulty wiring was jostled by the sporadic motion of the Warblade-class battlesled’s blue-burning engines, “Emersion in five—“

“three-one-thousand,” he chanted.

“Four—“

“four-one-thousand,” his voice continued as loose odds and ends rattled on the tildium tin shelves. The odd blue-gray coloration turned the overhead panels’ glow into a muted, subtle tone that bathed the soldier’s face in an eerie wash of cool hues.

Time ticked by.

“Now,” spat the stuttering speaker.

There was the sudden sensation of freefall. Eric’s lunch threatened to float up his throat and out his mouth. All the blood in his body suddenly didn’t know where to go. He clenched his muscles and contorted his face.

As suddenly as the gravitational oddity had occurred it ceased.

Eric suddenly realized how hard he was gripping the strut and let go like it was electrified. He wrapped one hand around his wrist and worked his fingers. Pin pricks ran over the callused flesh.

“Spaceman Vorhang to the bridge,” croaked the mechanical throat.

He cursed and jumped to the floor. The grates gave a metallic heave as he landed heavily. It seemed they were operating at greater than Standard Gravity. Eric knew exactly what that meant. There would be a techie standing in front of the old man getting chewed out.

The Reach soldier let out a heavy breath. Hopefully graybeard would get out all of his frustrations on the wire rat.

The bunk room was communal. There were other pilots trying to catch a few hours of sleep in between shifts. They had all been awoken by the emersion. It was something you learned to cope with. The shift from slip to real could be strenuous and had talons sharp enough to drag anyone from their slumber.

Eric smoothed out his uniform shirt and straightened his collar. The navy blue looked good on his pale skin and brought out the ice in his eyes. He was clean shaven and his hair was short cropped as per regulation. The man was by the books.

The door slid up and to the side as he approached and let him pass.

The walk was short and enough to get the cobwebs out of his head.

A blue sensor danced over him as the bridge’s door decided if he was allowed past its reinforced tildium steel barricade. It seemed to take a second longer than normal. Maybe it was having issues with the black-and-blue he proudly wore on his right eye.

There was a hiss as the heavy blast steel rose and revealed the well lit command center of the War Song. Panels and lights twinkled in an array of rainbow colors and attracted Eric’s eye more than the shimmer stars beyond the thick layers of transparent material that separated him from the black void.

He strode in with the stiffness of respectful pilot and walked along the semi-circle pathway to its pinnacle. There was a large chair with all sorts of screens displaying long queues of information. It was unoccupied.

The old man was giving the techie in his orange jumpsuit the look of death.

Eric could feel the weight in the air. There had been screaming. Her eyes were watery and she was clenching her lips in an effort not to break.

He growled, “That will be all!”

The technical officer snapped a salute, turned, gave Eric wide eyes, and marched away.

By the look on graybeard’s face he hadn’t exhausted his inner circle of hatred and anger. No, it was far too early in the day for that. The techie had just been a warm up. Eric was the main dish.

Spaceman First Class Eric Vorhang presented the old captain a stiff salute.

“Put that thing away,” sneered the ship’s commander. “Now, don’t you look pretty. What in the seven rings of Hades do you think you were doing! Hmm! I should have you spaced! If this were the good old days, we’d take a cat-of-ten-tails to you and make sure you remember never to pull a stunt like that again!

“Where do you come off acting like that?! Hmm!? I should have you shot. If it weren’t for the regulations, I’d strip you of your wings right now!” He looked over Eric. “Look at that uniform. A disgrace, that’s what you are!” He cringed.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Spaceman Vorhang?” His dark eyes burned into the pilot’s soul.

Eric Vorhang had never broken a rule or regulation before. He wanted to tell the old man the truth; but, he couldn’t. Instead, he clenched his jaw and mustered up his manhood. He drew his courage close and said what he’d practiced, “No, sir. Nothing, sir.”

He was rigid as a board, the picture of military discipline.

“Very well. I have no other choice then. You’re to be bound and taken by transport to Keytus. There you’ll be tried for your damnation.” He was a hard man. Still, Eric knew he was doing what was right. If he were in the old man’s boots he’d have done the same. “Marines, take him to the brig.”

Two black-clad soldiers stepped from where they’d been waiting near the door. The shorter took out a pair of cuffs, “Sir, hands behind your back.”

Khendon Sevon
Jan 16th, 2007, 10:29:24 AM
Eric didn’t even let out a sigh. He stood straight and brought his arms around for the marines.

The cuffs went on with a mechanical zipping sound. They adjusted just tight enough that he wouldn’t be able to wiggle out. There would be no escape. Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to cut the well engineered material with a plasma torch—not to mention he would’ve probably burned his hand off in the process.

“If you’ll follow me, sir,” one of the troopers turned on the heel of his polished grav-boot and began marching from the brig. The marine behind him gently jabbed him in the back with a baton and Eric found himself falling in step.

Khendon Sevon
Jan 16th, 2007, 09:35:11 PM
It was that moment again.

Eric’s body had the sickening feeling of sudden, immersive freefall. There was the sluggish perception and stomach churning nausea associated with emersion. All the telltale signs were there.

He was a pilot.

A few moments after he’d acclimated he could feel everything. There was a large star nearby. It was pulling anywhere from six to eight planets. The radiation was subtly higher than the star system he’d been taken from. The levels outside the thick skin of the transport were dangerous.

He was a pilot.

Eric knocked on the locked door to his compartment. He hadn’t had a room to himself since before he went into training. To be a pilot was to be part of the crew and the ship. It was embracing the everything.

The door went translucent.

“Sir?” Asked the marine.

“May I,” the spaceman licked his lips nervously, “may I… uh.” He cleared his voice. “You know,” his eyes were pleading.

The marine didn’t seem to know what to do. Eric was a pilot and, as a pilot, he was making a request. Still, he was a prisoner.

But, he was a pilot.

The black-clad trooper came to a decision. It was reflected in his eyes, the only visible part of his face. “Certainly, Sir.”

Eric breathed a sigh of relief.

“Back towards me.”

He complied and put his hands behind his back. He allowed them to brush up against the door. The marine pushed the cuffs through and snapped them onto Eric’s wrists.

The steel went opaque and slid away. “This way,” the guard indicated for the pilot to go first.

The cockpit was small and had just enough seats for the two marines and the other pilot. Eric took a seat beside the young man that was deftly maneuvering the small craft. Tildium covers peeled away from the canopy of the transport like parting hands and revealed the wonder of space. A bright yellow and orange orb filled the viewport.

Something felt wrong.

“You’re too steep, adjust point zero five degrees,” Eric swallowed and looked at the displays.

“You’re wrong. The console says my approach is perfect,” the pilot shot a glance to the marines as if to say why did you let him in!?

“No, the computer is wrong. Consider it a floating point error. Maybe the radiation or the gravitational fluxes that are spilling through this sector. Whatever the reason, you’re off. The atmosphere is thick, greenhouse gasses are trapped on this planet. You’re going to have a difficult time.” He let out a sigh. “I am a pilot.”

The man at the controls sneered.

“Trust me,” Eric crossed his arms and leaned back, “or you’ll regret it.”

“Fine! Fine.” The pilot clenched his jaw and adjusted.

“Good.”

The transport gently slid through the planet’s atmosphere without incident.