Water of Life excerpt

[MetalJon]

Hi folks - I'm new to this site but I have to say I've thoroughly enjoyed reading a lot of the posts on the various forums. For an aspiring writer, this website is totally invaluable!
Anyway, to the point: I've finally got round to writing, after years of talking about it! The excerpt I'm about to post is from a story I've been working on for only a week - it was supposed to be a short story, but I found that my ideas for it kept on getting bigger and bigger!
Does anyone else have this problem with short stories? If anyone could give me some pointers on how to sharpen it up and make it shorter, I'd really appreciate it. Anyway, any suggestions would very useful! The story I'm writing seems to have turned out rather pulpy, and slightly tongue in cheek as well... it's a detective story set on a space station, with vampires!

Hope you enjoy it:

The great ugly hulk of metal hung in space, motionless, like an unusual asteroid. G-12 was one of the last stations to be built before the Earth finally became completely uninhabitable, choked under the weight of its poison-filled atmosphere. In a desperate rush for survival, humanity had thrown together temporary accommodation in space, vast floating shelters to contain the remains of the species and take them to somewhere better, somewhere that they could be safe and free from deadly toxins.

Like all of the last stations, G-12 was built in a desperate hurry. The very last of the Earth’s natural resources were ripped out, melted and hammered quickly into shape. As a result, the last few stations were cramped, basic and suffered a continual array of technical glitches, design flaws and leaks. They were also without any aesthetic quality whatsoever, the designers and manufacturers putting all their energy into creating functional living quarters. This had the unexpected bonus of keeping raiding parties away – pirates often raided the older stations with their neon signs, flashing lights and accommodating entry hatches.

Although G-12 appeared to be a lifeless hunk of square metal from the outside, it was a completely different matter inside. The station positively heaved with life as over one hundred and fifty thousand people lived, worked, ate and slept within its cramped frame. The walkways were almost always throbbing with grubby, irritable life, while the various mechanical systems continually churned out water, processed air and power, with the occasional technical failure being its only respite.

Jeff Johnson sat in the stationary vehicle and lit another cigarette. He shifted in his seat until he was finally comfortable, and laid his head back on the head rest. It seemed as though it would be another long night, full of expectant waiting and little else.

A crackling sound came from the small screen in the centre of the dashboard, and a fuzzy image appeared – the humourless face of police chief appeared.
“Seen anything yet? Any updates?” she snapped, obviously as irritated with all the waiting as Jeff himself.
“No. Not a thing.” Jeff stated flatly. It was best not to antagonise Chief Wicklow when she was in such a black mood.
“I hope your informant wasn’t jerking us around!”
“I’m sure he wasn’t, he’s been pretty reliable of late”
“Of late… That doesn’t promise me one hundred percent reliability Jeff! Remember, you’re on borrowed time!” Wicklow’s face loomed slightly larger as she leant closer to the screen back at the police station.
“Hey!” she shouted, “How many times have I told you not to smoke in patrol vehicles??”
A guilty expression flashed across Jeff’s face for a second, and he flicked the smoking cigarette though the open crack in the window.
“I can assure you, he is reliable” he said quietly with a wry smile. Jeff had extracted the truth from his pasty-faced informant by means some would not consider `by the book’. He was almost envious of the view the man must have had, hanging by his ankles from a twentieth-story balcony.

Wicklow glared at him suspiciously, and then disappeared from view without a word. The screen faded back to black, leaving Jeff sitting in shadow once again. He reached for the pack of cigarettes on the dashboard and went to take another one out. As he did so, something caught his eye. On the opposite side of the street, in between the usual throng, a distinctive figure marched purposefully towards the very door that Jeff had spent all evening watching. It was a red-haired man, in his late twenties, with a ruddy complexion – the very man Jeff was waiting for.

He punched a button at the side of the comms screen, and the bored face of Officer Jones faded into view.
“What?”
“The Romanian’s here. Let’s get on with it.” Jeff stated. He flicked the screen off.
The red haired man punched his entry code into the keypad, and the door swung open. He entered quickly and slammed the door behind him.
Within seconds, Jeff plus four police officers in uniform were at the door with a hydraulic ram. Jeff looked at the faces of the officers in turn; each one of them unsuccessfully masking their fear and apprehension of what awaited them behind the door. Nicolai Inecatu was no ordinary felon. He was indeed a petty thief, someone who stole to order and didn’t ask too many questions. He was also a card-carrying member of a vampire coven, one of the walking dead.

Back on Earth, people had believed vampires were a myth, a fairy tale, something fictional that only appeared in horror stories. As mankind left Earth, living in cramped conditions, and moving further and further from natural sunlight, the undead began to manifest themselves as a reality. No-one knew how to respond to this new addition to the population – some stations began to hunt them, and drove a stake through the heart of anyone suspected of being undead or possessing supernatural powers. This led to massive protests and violent demonstrations from human rights activists across the solar system.

Eventually, some of the more progressive stations gave vampires and lycanthropes citizenship rights and work permits. As long as they applied for a license to drink blood from a legal source, and didn’t take human lives, everything was considered to be legal. The powers that be felt that keeping the creaky, overpopulated and overstretched stations running smoothly was enough to worry about, never mind keeping the living dead at bay. This shift in policy eventually trickled down to all stations around the solar system, so that the living and the dead inhabited the same cramped space in mutual distrust. At the last count, there were around two hundred undead citizens inhabiting G-12, all with work permits and voting rights.

Jeff wiped some sweat from his brow and breathed heavily. He disliked dealing with vampires intensely, all the screeching, baring of fangs and hypnotic eyes. It reminded him too much of his ex-wife, who had literally transformed into mist, floated out of the window one night and had never come back. After a heavy sigh, Jeff regained his composure, and set his face into its usual unreadable mask. He glanced at Officer Jones.
“Have you got the collar?” he asked.
Officer Jones nodded.
“Let’s go then”
With that, the men braced themselves and flicked on the hydraulic ram. Within two seconds, the door was in splinters.

[BookStop]

Love, love , love the idea. Don't think I've ever read vampires in space before, so it's fresh for me. yay.

desperate rush for survival, humanity had thrown together temporary accommodation in space

Like all of the last stations, G-12 was built in a desperate hurry

repetitive

Really nothing horrible to nitpick at - I like it. When ar eyou posting more?

[MetalJon]

Thanks very much for looking at my excerpt! I'm really pleased that you like the idea.

You certainly have a point about those two sentences - those first few paragraphs need a little bit of revision to make them snappier I think, and not so repetitive.

I'll gladly post a little bit more if you like...

I'll do it tomorrow, when it's not so late! Right now, bed is calling me...

Thanks again

[chopper]

As long as they applied for a license to drink blood from a legal source, and didn’t take human lives, everything was considered to be legal.

Repetition of "legal". I'd suggest "everything was considered above board" or something similar.

It reminded him too much of his ex-wife, who had literally transformed into mist, floated out of the window one night and had never come back.

this made me chuckle....

[MetalJon]

Thanks Chopper - good point.

I hope you're all enjoying it so far! This has been a really interesting journey for me so far, as I normally tend to start writing high fantasy stories instead (I might post a chunk of my high fantasy epic I've started as well, at some point).
Anyway - here is a bit more of the `Water of Life' story if anyone would read further:


“Nicolai Inecatu, you are under arrest!” bellowed Jeff into the flat, before marching into the hallway. The flat was exactly what he expected from this sector; grubby, unkempt and in a state of disrepair. As he trod down the hallway on the mouldy carpet, he listened for the occupant, hoping he would give himself up without a fight. As ever, it was not to be.

The red haired vampire ran screeching down the hall at the five men, arms outstretched and fangs exposed. Jeff nodded at a quaking Officer Jones, who thrust the glowing metal collar out in front of him, gripping the long handle hard with whitened knuckles.

Inecatu did not see the collar until it was too late. His screeching cry ended in a choking gurgle, as his neck was embraced by the metal device. The small blue lights around its perimeter winked on one at a time, and the vampire’s shape-shifting powers were neutralised.

With a sharp twist of the handle, Jones brought Inecatu to his knees. The vampire looked up at them all with glowing, hate-filled eyes.
“You got nothing on me!” he spat, in his heavily accented voice.

Jeff ignored the irate blood sucker and began searching the poky lodgings. Inecatu was a poor criminal; he had made almost no effort to hide the stolen goods. Jeff marched right into the unkempt bedroom, complete with open coffin resting on filthy mattress, and found the stash in seconds. The idiot had only hidden it in his coffin! It was a curious thing to steal though, Jeff mused to himself, as he scratched his stubble-covered chin. Most petty thieves stole vehicles, designer clothes, other people’s expensive belongings… Instead, this time, Inecatu had stolen high-powered laser syringes, some gas compressors, and an odd assortment of industrial equipment from the water plant where he worked the night shift.

Who would be stupid enough to steal from their own workplace, under the constant cyclopean gaze of security cameras? Who would want to buy this stuff? Jeff was left with a lot of unanswered questions, a situation which made him tense and itchy. He strode back out into the hallway, where the sweating officers were struggling to contain the thrashing vampire. With one swift punch, he knocked the red-haired thief out cold.
“Get him into the van” he said, grimly. It was time for some answers.

[MetalJon]

Everyone think this is OK so far? Not too dull I hope...

[ctg]

It's not dull at all. Stop worrying about it.

[chrispenycate]

The great ugly hulk of metal hung in space, motionless

and laid his head back on the head rest

hanging by his ankles from a twentieth-story balcony.

You give us a jerry built space station, not even rotating, then behave as if it had Earth-normal gravity.

The walkways were almost always throbbing with grubby, irritable life, while the various mechanical systems continually churned out water, processed air and power, with the occasional technical failure being its only respite.

what's ony respite; the stations ? Or should that be "their"?

It was a curious thing to steal though, Jeff mused to himself, as he scratched his stubble-covered chin. Most petty thieves stole vehicles, designer clothes, other people’s expensive belongings… Instead, this time, Inecatu had stolen high-powered laser syringes, some gas compressors, and an odd assortment of industrial equipment from the water plant where he worked the night shift.

You say "it" was curious, then proceed to give us a list of very varied (and doubtless uncomfortable) objects.

[MetalJon]

You give us a jerry built space station, not even rotating, then behave as if it had Earth-normal gravity.

That's sort-of explained a bit later in the story (which I haven't posted here).

what's ony respite; the stations ? Or should that be "their"?

I was trying to give an impression of the creaky mechanical systems working tirelessly despite their `creakiness'. The only rest that the systems get is when they occasionally break down. I guess this part is a bit clumsy and probably not necessary!

You say "it" was curious, then proceed to give us a list of very varied (and doubtless uncomfortable) objects.

Good point - I'll revise...

thanks!

[BookStop]

Still enjoying it!

[MetalJon]

Thanks everyone for helping me out! A few comments have made me realise that I really need to look into some scientific principles before I go any further with my space station description... Science is not my strong point as one or two of you may have noticed!

I had an idea for the gravity being slightly different at one end of the station to the other, which would allow for some comedic moments, but now I'm not sure if it's even possible in theory! I think I also need to change the shape of my station - it's a square lump at the moment, but it probably should be a round, rotating lump - just to make it slightly more `believable'...

Here is a bit extra that I had written, later in the story. Jeff has interrogated the vampire and got some information out of him at last, now he is heading to The Central Database for more crucial clues...

Jeff headed for the Upper Echelons, as they were known. The last two floors at the top end of G-12 had originally been built to house the wealthiest citizens, those who had paid vast deposits years in advance, to live in the largest luxury apartments and mansions on offer.

Unfortunately, after the initial launch of the station, a whole series of design flaws and faults had appeared. In order to save money, the air conditioning had been missed out, which meant that those levels were at the mercy of the temperature outside the station. It was absolutely freezing, except for the floor, which absorbed the heat rising from all the other parts of the station. The other problem was the gravity. An unknown glitch in the gravity generating system meant the two polar ends of the station suffered extremes of gravity. At the Upper Echelons, the gravity was unusually low. Things had a tendency to float off if you weren’t paying attention to them. Visitors were advised to wear very heavy boots, as well as several layers of clothes to keep out the cold. At the other end of G-12 (`The Rump’ as it was affectionately known), everything weighed a ton. As a result, weight-lifting enthusiasts had invested in massive gymnasium complexes down there, where only the strongest would pump iron, and built up their muscles to gigantic proportions.

All of the wealthy inhabitants of the Upper Echelons had moved out within the first standard quarter of the first year, fed up with having to chase their breakfasts around the house every morning (or have their servants do it for them), many of them a lot poorer after paying astronomical heating bills. The whole area was now deserted, save for a few lo-grav sports complexes, and The Central Database.

[Sylvetra_Snake]

Cool story, i like it.

[thaddeus6th]

I don't normally do critiques because I tend to be hyper-critical (I am of my own stuff too). But here goes:

"choked under the weight of its poison-filled atmosphere" - Only minor but I'd change the weight aspect. Atmosphere isn't heavy, nor is poison.

First two paras - I like the notion that the living spaces are rubbish, and the raiding pirates point is nice.

"“No. Not a thing.” Jeff stated flatly." - comma, not a full stop after 'thing'. Similar stuff occurs later.

Bit grammar Nazi-ish, but "That doesn’t promise me one hundred percent reliability Jeff!" wants a vocative comma before 'Jeff'. Got to love cases.

'red haired' is hyphenated the first time, but not the second.


Anyway, the point is that my points are largely stuff you'd've picked up yourself when proofing and not problems with the story or anything. Interesting idea to mix sci-fi and fantasy/myth. From the excerpt, it looks pretty good.

Regarding gravity (I'm not a scientist either, incidentally) presumably the shape of the craft only matters from the perspective of getting it off the planet. After all, you don't have much friction in space, and I imagine (though not certain by any means) that gravity would be the same whether it's spherical or a cube.

[MetalJon]

that's great - thanks for the grammar tips!

As for the gravity, I'd imagined some kind of device that generates gravity on each floor of the station individually (although I'm pretty hazy on the details!), using electro-magnetic thingumies... I don't know, they seem to get away with it on Star Trek!

I think I'd imagined the space stations being built out in space in a hurry, `switched on' and then just left.

I take your point about the`weight' issue of the atmosphere, sometimes I get a little carried away with my descriptions and they can trip over themselves a bit!

Anyway, thanks again folks!

[MetalJon]

I think I'd imagined the space stations being built out in space in a hurry, `switched on' and then just left.

So, when I wrote:

Unfortunately, after the initial launch of the station, a whole series of design flaws and faults had appeared

I mean `unveiling' rather than actual launch... Maybe I should change that bit.