NaNo '17 - Anabasis Trilogy Book 1 (Working Title)

[Seonid he/him]

Here it is. My first time ever really committing to a NaNoWriMo. For the past few years, I've had loads of difficult physics classes on top of full time work and taking care of a growing family.

But at the moment, I'm unemployed, graduated, and being a stay-at-home dad. Which leaves me no excuse not to participate

Here is where I will be posting new scenes for the story. Hopefully it won't be too boring as it spins itself out.

The story is set in the Starnet (shameless plug for my worldbuilding thread - I've got the beginnings of a historical overview of the setting over there), my science fiction setting. As the Starnet is the far future of my primary fantasy setting, it's not a hard science fiction universe. But apart from one or two handwaves (justified as alien technology) and the magic system (a natural outgrowth of the cosmology), the setting is as realistic as I know how to make it. Thanks to Rocketpunk Manifesto, the ToughSF blog, and the Atomic Rockets website for hard scientific answers to sci-fi worldbuilding questions. A short synopsis of the story follows:

Daern Onidsen is a decorated warship captain, pirate hunter, and a hero of the Federation. And an inmate of the highest security prison in Federation space, facing execution because his heroism threatened to expose treason in high places. But when an important visitor arrives with an offer he can't refuse, he finds himself plotting a daring prison break, stealing Federation starships, and forming a pirate band of his very own. And along the way, he may just get his revenge.

Hope you enjoy!

[Seonid he/him]

So, accountability update!

The first day, I sat down and was hit with the sudden realization of how woefully underprepared I was to write this story. I spent all of my prep time worldbuilding instead of storycrafting. I'd had the plot - including the high-level overview - planned out for seven years or so, and so I'd spent a great deal of time making sure I had consistency in the world I set it in.

Turns out you need a month's worth of outlining and story planning before NaNoWriMo starts...

Anyways, I got lost in outlining and story planning for a couple of days and didn't write anything. Last night, I decided to bite the bullet and just start writing. My compulsive outlining behavior can wait for the second draft. I'm significantly behind, and I only wrote 500 words last night. But here they are!

Spoiler

The pounding of the gavel brought the murmuring whispers in the courtroom to immediate silence. The judge’s firm voice called out, almost like a bell.

“May we have order in the court?” High Justice Elizabetta Santos was understated, as always. She was well-known for her polite but implacable handling of the often boisterous crowds of the 119th Circuit Court. Objections would be rolled over by her force of will. Even rough-spoken slumlords and the incessant chatter of the retired factory workers - most of whom came to the courthouse for entertainment and socializing, rather than the cases - would find themselves slowly but inevitably falling silent under her piercing stare. As it should be. A judge who couldn’t manage her courtroom didn’t deserve to hold court, in her considered opinion.

To her disappointment, the conversations stopped almost instantly. She rather enjoyed those confrontations, where she could put the full weight of her authority and bearing on display. Even when the audience was only the few residents of the 119th who came to see the arguments, it was gratifying. Today, when the proceedings of her courtroom would be transmitted across the Federation, watched by billions of viewers desperate to see the fate of the two men on trial, it would have been exquisite. In the absence of such an opportunity, however, she was forced to proceed with the formalities.

“Honorable members of the jury, have you reached a decision?”

The lead juror, a portly, balding man in his late middle age, rose. “We have, miss…uh, your Honor.” Her eyes flashed to him, but he had already noticed his mistake and corrected it.

She scanned the jury, watching them fidget. Nervous, the lot of them. Understandable, in the circumstances, but it was still unprofessional. The room was still silent.

Looking back at the juror, she  “Proceed, then. The world is watching, Juror.”

His face went slightly red at her words. “Yes, your Honor.” He took a deep breath, and looked down at his digital display. “Based on the weight of the evidence presented, and on the sworn testimonies of the witnesses, we find the defendant Daern Onidsen guilty of six counts of murder of the first degree. We find the defendant Eric Halm guilty of conspiracy to commit murder, and an accessory to the six counts of murder before mentioned. We find both defendants guilty of conspiracy to obstruct the course of justice, and of destruction of evidence.” A rising tide of excited whispers filled the room - it was a sensational verdict.

Santos nodded curtly. “Thank you. You may be seated.” Her clipped words brought stillness to the courtroom again. Standing, she tapped the voice transmitter in her podium. The brief burst of feedback caught the attention of everyone in the room.

With an icy smile, she looked directly at the video feed. “By the power invested in me by the sovereign world of Luxor, I sentence you, Daern Onidsen, and you, Eric Halm, to death for your crimes. By order of the court, this sentence shall be carried out after a period of time not to exceed fourteen weeks. Until that time, the convicted shall be held in Ersat Orbital. This court is now dismissed.”

I'll post today's writing bits later tonight. Now back to work!

[Seonid he/him]

Here's today's writing update. 1468 words, and another introduction scene. This explains a little bit of the background of the trial we just saw concluding in the last segment. Tomorrow, the mystery thickens a little bit.

We're still well behind schedule, but I'm starting to get the hang of this thing. I've got high hopes for this novel. As always, comments are very much appreciated.

Spoiler

News syndicates on a dozen worlds had aired incessant coverage of the trial, and as the third day of deliberation concluded, packet streams of the story spiked. In a small house near Marathi Starport, on the world of Jordan, Kara Lyon busied herself scrubbing a modest meal-table, whispering prayers to the Martyr. A small gathering of local plants sat on the room’s prominent single shelf, cracked and dried with age. On the wall, a holodisplay ran muted, showing flashing clips of local news stories; inviting watchers to open datastreams for deeper coverage.

A melodic chime announced visitors, and she looked up at the home control panel, almost panicking as she realized the time. The entry camera showed an elderly man with a walking cane, standing near two younger men and a woman, all talking amongst themselves while they waited. Her father and siblings, the ones who lived close enough to come. Dropping her cleaning supplies, she darted to the door, repeating the words of the prayer more forcefully. She opened it, waving in her family, quietly offering pleasantries and greetings while her mind focused ever more on the ritual words.

She caught only snatches of what they said to her as they seated themselves on the deep couches and chairs in the house’s receiving-room, while she started clearing off and dusting the sitting-table.

“Sharon says that the little ones can stay the night - you know she never wants them to leave…”

“Sis, you don’t have to do that. You should sit down…”

“Kara, mother wants to know when you’re going to come and visit her. It’s been weeks…”

As she rounded the corner of the table, her sister caught her hand. “Kara, look at me.” Reluctantly, Kara met her dark eyes, and saw concern there. There were worry lines around them, too. When did she get those?

“Sissy, if things…if it doesn’t…” She paused, swallowing. When she spoke again, her words were hesitant. “If doesn’t…go well. I didn’t get a return ticket this time. I can stay as long as you need me to. You know that Miles and Sharon can’t help with the kids forever - they’ve got to get back to the farm.”

Kara forced a smile, hoping that she wouldn’t start crying. Not yet. “Thank you, Jori.”

Her brother activated the display projector, the far wall revolving in 5 centimeter segments to reveal a flat screen, the seam lines barely visible. A flick of the control wand, and the news datastream flickered to life. Conversation stopped immediately, and the tension in the room thickened perceptibly. Kara slipped up onto the couch next to her sister. Jori’s arm slipped around her back in a comforting embrace as everyone’s attention was captured by the newscast.

“Hello, and welcome to Firelight News Network, keeping you up to date with news from around the Federation. Our top story this hour, the verdict has been returned in the trials of Navy officers Daern Onidsen and Eric Halm. In a shocking conclusion to what some observers are calling the ‘Trial of the Century,’ the jury returned from three full days of deliberation - the maximum allowable time permitted under Luxoran law - to cast their final judgments on the fate of these two men. If they are found guilty, they face at least 10 years in maximum-security prison, and the prosecution is known to be seeking the death penalty. But first, Ariana Mendez - our on-the-scene coverage for this trial - with the story thus far.” The reporter, a dark-haired, attractive young man with a soft violet tint to his fair skin, winked at the camera. It was typical newscasting these days, drawing out the story for maximum dramatic effect.  New stream options popped up on the sidebar, offering to divert her attention to a biopic on Captain Onidsen, or an interview with a legal scholar about the precedents set by this trial. Kara waved them away, pausing as a datastream on Eric popped up, her breath catching in her throat as her husband’s face smiled at her from the screen. A moment later, it was gone as well, her brother clearing the sidebar of distractions.

The screen changed to a shot of a terraformed world, with the soft orange curve of a gas giant in the upper left, while a woman’s voice cut in. “This is Bethel, an independent world contacted by a High Guard survey ship just over a year ago. Twenty-five weeks ago, Commander Derek Hightower, son of Luxoran Senator Vernail Hightower, led a squadron of six patrol frigates for what should have been a routine assignment protecting the communications relays and the Federation ambassadorial team in the system. Under his command was Daern Onidsen captain of the frigate Talon.”

“Twelve weeks later, Hightower was dead, and his ship, the Blackbird, had been destroyed with all hands. The exact sequence of events leading may never be known, but the private messages sent by Commander Hightower to his family in the weeks leading up to his death reference increasingly confrontational behavior by both Onidsen and his first officer, Eric Halm.”

“On Festday, 33rd year-week, the situation came to a boil. At around 0100, Federation Standard Time, Captain Onidsen opened fire on his commanding officer’s ship, apparently catching Hightower by surprise. At some point during the ensuing firefight, the fuel tanks on the Blackbird were hit, and the resulting explosion destroyed the ship.”

“Onidsen claims that he had unearthed information that indicated that his commanding officer was a traitor, and involved in selling state secrets to the Federation’s enemies. Expert onlookers, however, agree that that argument has been largely disproven over the course of the trial. The most likely theory, supported by the recently released private messages of Commander Hightower, is that Onidsen - a former member of the infamous Kurst smuggling ring, who was incarcerated at age 17 after the ring was brought down - was involved in deals on the black market and that Commander Hightower acquired sufficient evidence to indict him. Eric Halm, a friend of Onidsen’s for many years, is believed to have played a key role in facilitating Onidsen’s black market activities.”

“Eight weeks ago, following a closed Navy court-martial, Onidsen and Halm were both formally accused by Senator Hightower with the murder of his son and the rest of the crew of the Blackbird. The other crewmembers aboard Onidsen’s warship are under investigation at the current time, but may be protected from criminal conviction due to the fact that they were simply following orders from their commanding officer. This is Ariana Mendez, reporting for Firelight News, from the steps of the Luxoran 119th Circuit Courthouse.”

The screen faded to black, and the live reporter stepped back in, as the background switched to the front steps of the Luxoran courthouse. “Welcome back to our breaking coverage of the Onidsen trial, here on Firelight News. I hope you enjoyed any supplementary coverage you’ve watched before coming to this segment. I’m Raphael Zaragoza, and I’m here to report on the jury’s verdict. It’s been eight weeks since the trial started, and for the past three days, the jury has been deliberating on all of the evidence presented.” The sidebar blinked again. Review key highlights of the trial, just one-tenth credit. Or watch it free with a year-long subscription. Kara waved it away, desperately. “As of 2200, Federation Standard Time, the jury emerged from their nodeblocked recess rooms with a final verdict for the trial, followed immediately with a sentence from High Justice Elizabetta Santos. Here is live footage from the courtroom, just twenty hours ago.” The image was replaced with the courtroom, the judge sitting at her podium, and the jury members filing into their seats. Kara’s gut twisted and her throat tightened. Lord above, please have mercy.

She knew there was no chance that the jury was going to find Eric innocent. The evidence was far too strong against him. But still, the loud voice of the juror calling out ‘Guilty’ threatened to send her into tears, tearing at her emotions. She forced them back, forced herself to watch as the judge stood to deliver sentencing.

The death sentence came as a shock to everyone in the room. For a moment, all was still. Then, the room erupted into a maelstrom of shouting.

“Burned bones! Sorry Kara, language, I know. But they can’t do that…”

“Ash and powder! How are they supposed to get an appeal together in fourteen weeks…”

“Curse those jurors! Couldn’t they see Eric wasn’t the type…”

“QUIET!” Jori’s voice was piercing enough to cut through the men’s shouting. In shock, the men turned to look at her, holding Kara in her arms. Then, shamefacedly, they sat down again, the silence broken only by the sound of tears.

 

[Seonid he/him]

I've skipped ahead a bit in my writing, planning on coming back to the bits that are slowing me down. Unfortunately, that makes posting updates here a bit tricky, as they would otherwise be out of order. I'll catch up pretty soon, and do one large update.

Also, I'm still behind