This is a story I've been working on for a while, and I've finally got it worked out. The ending was the thing I was struggling with, that and the length of it. So, I've decided to break it up into three posts.
Before I get started I wanted to say that in the PGM - Discord Server Link, there is a giveaway being held at the moment to earn an NFT, which will give each holder of it passive earnings. All you need to do to enter this giveaway is join the server and react to the announcement with a PGM emoji in the general chat channel, anyone who reacts to it will earn the NFT.
The giveaway is only active for the next 7 days, so hurry and grab it while you can.
The city of Tar-Dina was long behind them and all Ahren Volte could do was watch the sands of The Great Wastes below them, as their transporter tore through the sky. It was nothing but dunes for as far as the eye could see and the further they got away from the city more and more wrecks could be spotted, being eaten by the sands.
The Driver was an old man, who was heavily weathered. Judging by the small amount of skin he had on show - beneath the thin cloth that was flapping violently in the wind - the driver had spent far too long cooking in the relentless Scoohsan sun.
Ahren was just one member of five, and he was the only human amongst the lot. The leader of the band was a Trisken called, Sooma M’Supa, who was covered completely in scales, which ranged from red to dark black; the most defining feature of a Trisken was their jaw-cap, a large exo-skeletal plate that covered their face up as far as their eyes, only lowering when they ate or spoke. The other Trisken, Koni M’Supa, who was the brother of the leader, was similar in colour, but a lighter shade and a bit more talkative.
There was also a Mulu, named Metri, Ahren had never met a Mulu in real life. He had a beak-like mouth, and bulging eyes, which occasionally protruded out on fleshy poles, to look around, moving out of sync with each other, until going back to their resting position. The last person was an Arok woman, who was human-like, bar her green skin. Her black hair was tied back, held in place by a wide shading hat, and pulsating bulges - framing her face - which was common amongst her people.
Ahren hadn’t had a chance to become fully acquainted with any of them, and truth be told, he didn’t care if they spoke or not. He only had one thing on his mind; money. All he had to hear was that there were three thousand Free Space Tokens up for anyone who would accompany Sooma M’Supa out to The Wider Wastes, to some disused mining settlement. It was enough cash to potentially get a ticket off-world, especially combined with the FSTs he had managed to scrimp and save. Scoosha was a sandy, desolate rock that never recovered after the war. His dream was to get to one of the more civilised worlds; the ones where someone could make something of themselves on. Unlike the forgotten outer-worlds.
“So, any advice for traversing The Great Wastes?” Koni shouted over the sound of the rushing wind and the rattling engine. “Ain’t being paid enough to dispense advice.” The old man called back, chuckling to himself. With that, the Trisken awkwardly sat back in his seat. “Nah, I’m only jokin’ with ya. Advice. My advice, stay out of there, that’s my advice.” “Yeah?” “Oh yeah. Not worth messin’ round out there. Government hasn't had a chance to re-settle it. There’s wildlife out there, not creepy crawlies either. Biggins, that’ll tear you apart as soon as they see ya.”
The trip was faster than expected, and before Ahren knew it, the driver announced their arrival to The Wreck of Vreenai. Propping himself up in his seat, watching the downed starship grow in the distance. There was a collection of tents, and some ramshackle buildings erected around the old vessel. The place wasn’t overly busy, but there was a darn sight more life than the rest of the desert had shown.
“Here, this ones free. Don’t mess with any of this lot, they’ve been cooking too long.” The driver said as everyone hopped off the transport ship. Soon, the old roofless bucket was ascending, and no doubt heading back for Tar-Dina.
“Need more supplies. Get water, and ration packs. Meet at the main gate and we’ll be on our way.” Sooma said, turning to walk away before anyone could respond. One by one the party separated and all Ahren could do was stare around the small township; everything was old, sunbleached, and the place stank.
One of the shops in the vicinity of the main gate seemed like the best bet. Inside, it was dark and smelled a bit musky. They seemed to sell a bit of everything, most of which was second or third hand, most likely scavenged from some wrecks in the desert.
“Bit too fresh in the face to be a hunter.” Ahren heard someone say, turning to see an old Trisken, with half of his jaw-cap broken and only one arm and heavy scaring across his face. “Hunter? No, I’m not. Do you sell water and ration packs?” He asked, to which the Trisken nodded, before hobbling to his counter. He knelt down and returned with a few square parcels and went back down to grab some water. It was a murky reddy-brown colour, until the shopkeeper dropped a small capsule into it, then it fizzed and turned more transparent.
“That’ll be three-hundred FSTs.” Ahren was shocked, staring at the supplies laid out on the counter. “Three-hundred? That can’t be right. What are the ration packs?” The Trisken sighed. “The ration packs are Guro meat mixed with six different kinds of spiky fruit. Has all the nutrients humans like.” “Why is it so much?” Ahren asked as he picked up one of the packs to smell it. “Because Guro are hard to hunt.”
He knew he was being ripped off, but knew he had barely any choice. It was either pay or starve in the wastes. After transferring the funds, he packed his supplies away in his bag. “What brings you here? Settler?” Ahren shook his head. “No, just passing through. Accompanying someone to one of the old mining settlements.”
“One of the mining settlements? Good luck out there, if they aren’t taken by bandits, raiders, and other degenerates, they’re most likely crawling with Akit-ari.” Ahren didn’t respond. The last thing he wanted to do was listen to some old overcooked Trisken. “Was one of them that did this to me, luckily I had a good team behind me. Better hope yours are as good as mine were.” Ahren nodded to that. “I’m sure we’ll be okay. Thanks for the supplies.”
If you enjoyed reading this story and feel like continuing it on, Here Is A Link To Part 2/4.