This is a story I'm writing as part of NaNoWriMo, which is a month-long event where writers from around the world focus on writing each day of the month of November in order to finish, or create a piece of fiction.
I did start this story before November but decided to use this month to try and get this one finished, or at least get a good bit of it written.
A Night In The Western Wastes
Chapter 1
Night In The Western Wastes - Part 1
Night In The Western Wastes - Part 2
Night In The Western Wastes - Part 3
Night In The Western Wastes - Part 4
Night In The Western Wastes - Part 5
Night In The Western Wastes - Part 6
Night In The Western Wastes - Part 7
Sin
Chapter 2
Sin - Part 1
Sin - Part 2
Sin - Part 3
Sin - Part 4
Sin - Part 5
Sin - Part 6
Lost For Words
Chapter 3
Lost For Words - Part 1
Lost For Words - Part 2
Lost For Words - Part 3
Lost For Words - Part 4
Stuck. More like Trapped. Andron couldn't say why he would be forced to remain in this place. Sin. He wanted nothing more than to leave, to breathe fresh air, to bask in the cool breeze blowing in from the street. It washed over him and blew the smell of piss and puke away. No doubt in his mind that there were plenty of people downwind sharing looks of disgust with each other.
"Go on now. Get back inside and enjoy the rest of your night, Andron." The Trisken said with more than a few distrinct hisses thrown in.
"How do you know my name?" He asked, staring at them dumbfounded. They didn't answer. The Human stared at him, while the Trisken turned to see a drunken patron staggering up to the entrance. A Rotchi; an insectoid, with fine spikey black hairs from head to two. Two large eyes made up of many shiny mirrors. Mandibles, and four arms. The only thing that made Rotchi, human-like was the fact they walked on two legs.
"Back it up. I've given you fair warning." The Trisken said, but the Rotchi continued their approach.
"I'm meeting a friend here." They said quickly. "Yes, yes. Sin. It's the right place." The jittered as they briskly spoke, their mandibles chittered as he rubbed two hands together.
The Trisken cut him off by shoving him back, and without skipping a beat the security guard had their pistol drawn, pointing at them.
Instinctively they raised their hands, all four of them. "I just want to meet a friend, that's all."
"No Rotchi are allowed on the premises, new orders! Move away now." The security guard commanded, as the Human counterpart also unholstered their weapon.
"You'll learn to regret this, lizard. Do you know who I work for?" The Rotchi said, without taking a single step backward.
Two shots were fired, silencing the commotion and chatting going on outside. Everyone stopped as the bullet penetrated the intended target. An echo of the noise was all that could be heard, and the thud on the pavement of the body disturbed the deafening silence.
People stared briefly at the scene, but within a few moments the talking continued and the violent encounter was ignored.
Andron stared down at the body, watching as someone else came along and stepped over it. He looked up as he noticed eyes on him.
"Problem? You look a bit shaken up." The Human security guard asked in a sarcastic tone, as they started to chuckle.
"Me? Shaken up?" Andron asked, trying to sound as baffled as he could. "I hate Rotchi. You should have shot him sooner."
"Get back from the door," the person said, while turning back to the entrance.
Rotchi probably didn't really deserve to die whenever they were seen. There was still a lot of hatred for them over their involvement during The Confederation Invasion. It was a wound still felt by any and all who lived in Free Space. The Rotchi backed the wrong side in the conflict, however, it was fitting that the same greed that caused them to go against Free Space, was the same thing that led to the loss of their world. Rotchnok was no more and was now New Trisk. A mud ball slum filled with Triskens gangs, who tended to use Rotchi to carry out jobs of a criminal nature throughout the known galaxy.
Their life-span was only about five standard years - if they were lucky - and ever since their involvement in criminality exploded, there was a "kill on sight" order given to all law enforcement that caught them on the wrong side of the law.
"There's no point detaining them," Andron heard someone say before. "They don't live long enough to serve real-time."
They had become something of a nuisance across the worlds of Free Space, and their history made them a punching back of sorts.
A fate well deserved for what they helped achieve. Millions dead, worlds destroyed, cities in ruin, lives of the survivors altered forever.