I'm overwhelmed by the positive response to the first chapter of my WIP steampunk novel! So as promised, I'll share a bit more with you all.
This section starts off a bit more dry than the first sample, as it is setting up other characters that are important to Part 1 of the book. Again, Part 1 sets up the back story, Part 2 takes place almost 300 years later in the dystopian outcome.
Because they are short, I am including both chapters 2 and 3 of my first draft. (I am open to constructive criticism, but be nice).
Please enjoy chapters 2 and 3 of...
CHAPTER II
Khaviya shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wondering how a company that spent over six billion dollars to build each of these vehicles couldn't cough up a few extra bucks for proper lumbar molding chairs, especially in VIP-class. This was going to be a very long eight hours.
Anica placed her hand on his leg and she smiled at him. He had never been one for long trips, and she was well aware of it. “Sit still, dear. I know you're anxious.”
He allowed a small smile in return to her.
“Yes, that must be it.” He tugged lightly on the bottom of his shirt to straighten away the wrinkles. “We've been waiting for this for some time, haven't we?”
“We've certainly paid enough for this,” she quipped.
The right corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk as he lightly scoffed, slightly waving his hand in dismissal. Money was never something he had to worry about in his lifetime. His father made certain of that.
No, the benefits would far outweigh the price for this trip. This would be an opportunity for him to expand his family's influence, establishing new trade connections far away from his homeland.
His homeland. Sobraka. While it was only a couple hours flight on the atmospheric skimmer from where he sat now at Kennedy Space Center back to the capital city of Akmaz, it felt much farther away than it should, and over the next 6 months, that feeling would only grow. After all, Copernicus City was over 380,000 kilometers straight up, more or less.
Prince Khaviya Rasadik reflected on the reasons that he and his father didn't see eye to eye about this trip. The self-proclaimed ruler of Sobraka, King Bohdan Rasadik was weary of spreading thin the people he trusted most. Especially his eldest son. Since his sudden rise to power in Eastern Europe over 40 years ago, Bhodan had learned to keep himself as hidden away from the public eye as possible. He had witnessed more than a few revolutionaries meet an early end. He claimed that they were sloppy and that they lacked his meticulous attention to detail. Generally, that detail meant keeping his family very close to him. His loyal followers viewed it as the love of an overprotective father holding tight the reigns of his bloodline to his chest. The rest of the world saw it as the paranoid actions of a selfish, overbearing tyrant trying to control the future of a stolen nation.
What many people had realized that the King of Sobraka himself refused to acknowledge was that Prince Khaviya was nothing like his father. While he had disapproved of his father's violent establishment of Sobraka back in 2066, citing the needless, brutal public executions of the former country's government officials that had already sworn allegiance to Rasadik, Khaviya was cautious never to cross the delicate, dangerously thin line between disapproving son and an outspoken traitor.
From the perspective of the King, he was simply establishing his supremacy and felt that there was no better way to solidify his claim to the region than by “exterminating the cockroaches that had previously infested the land,” as he told Khaviya as a child.
Khaviya did indeed love his father, and he was proud of his accomplishments, but he wanted to prove to King Bhodan that there were other methods. Better methods. Methods that didn't involve the senseless murder of thousands in order to attain a goal. He wanted to prove that words, spoken with those of the right mindset, could indeed be stronger than the path of blood his father chose.
The King thought him naïve, disapproving of his desire to travel to Luna. He felt that the atmospheric technology has yet to be perfected, that at any moment his son would be blown out into the cold vacuum of the lunar surface.
Khaviya had spent many hours debating with his father over not only the advances in science and technology but the diplomatic advancements that would come of his expansion to the lunar region. But King Bhodan was resolute in his objection. It was an argument the Prince knew he would never win.
He felt the nudge on his arm from his wife, and the words gently removed him from his flowing thoughts.
"Sir? Can I offer you anything?"
Khaviya turned to the flight attendant, who had seemingly been standing beside him for a moment while he wrapped himself in memory.
"Sorry, miss. Yes, could I get another pillow please?”
CHAPTER III
The scent of fresh popcorn filled the small London apartment. A delightful evening snack to enjoy while watching the monumental flights take place on the televiewer. Not something most ladies her age would be doing on a Saturday night.
But Catherine Morley had never been accused of being average. Quite the contrary.
She had already blown off one offer for a girl’s night out from a colleague at the clinic. She found them to be awkward. Forced niceties with a group of people that she had already spent the whole week with and, really, felt she had very little in common with.
It wasn't that she disliked her co-workers. It was just that she didn't feel like she could relate to much of the standard banter of a group of girls in their mid-20. Nails, clothes, shoes... boys. She had more important goals in life than comparing fashion notes or relationship conquests. Not that she couldn't understand how girls ten years her junior would feel the need to take advantage of a couple glasses (or bottles, in some cases) of wine to help take the edge off of a hard week. She didn't blame them. She just didn't feel it a necessity in her life. After all, she was a scientist. A medicinal scientist, but that made it no less important. Her passions had enabled her to help countless people and that was something she was quite proud of.
Catherine rummaged through the cupboard to find her special bowl. She only ever used it for popcorn, and only for special events like this one tonight.
“The Mass Exodus.” The media had such a distasteful way of turning something amazing and putting a spin on it to make it sound like it was something to be feared; like the rich and powerful were leaving the planet to prosper while the poor and meager were left behind to rot or something. That wasn't at all what was happening. It certainly wasn't the first time that mankind had left for Luna. This launch just happened to be taking another 1,500 to join the established 500 colonists that had built Copernicus City.
She did, however, appreciate the irony that the lead vessel was named the “Exodus.”
Catherine frowned a little at the thought. She had applied to join the flight, but her request was rejected. “You can always try again next time,” the Application Officer told her. “There will be another transport ready next year.”
Small comfort. It's not like she had much to keep her here in London. Her parents had long passed. She had no spouse or children holding her back. Even her brothers, Jarvis and Gabriel, had long traveled to America to continue their own busy careers. They hardly even had time for a Christmas vidcall anymore.
No, she only wanted to share her knowledge and experience with a bold new frontier. Somewhere that it could truly be utilized; fully appreciated. Where better than a new expanse on the harsh environs of the Moon itself?
Her frown turned into a grin as she glimpsed the off-white bowl, yellow flowers adorning the rim. Placing it on the counter, she tore open the bag of steaming popcorn, and dumped in the contents, grabbing a small handful for the walk to the living room.
As she moved from the kitchen towards the sofa, she slowed to a stop beside the cabinet. While her many awards, certification plaques and family heirlooms filled it to brimming, they weren't what drew her attention. She swallowed the mouthful of her salty snack.
“Dammit,” she muttered to herself, placing the bowl onto the table behind her, taking another few popped kernels and slapping them into her mouth.
She wiped her hand on her slacks and carefully opened the glass door, reaching in to gently grasp the prized item within. It was a wooden box-shaped object with bronze and copper trim, copper wires running along one side from the bottom edge to a pair of transistor bulbs on top at the opposite end. A single circular dial was at the other end of the box, it's small window revealing the cogwheels and gears that drove the inner mechanisms, all of which were overshadowed by the black wheel directly beneath the glass with the word “NEUTRAL” in bold white print. She could only imagine what the purpose of the device was. It had been in her family for over two centuries and little was known of the object, aside from whatever purpose of it was designed for was apparently “neutral.”
She straightened the box back to her preferred placement. Apparently, it had shifted again at some point today, likely due to the rumbling engines of low flying traffic. She made a mental note to contact the building superintendent regarding yet another breach of the neighborhood's airspace regulations regarding flying within proximity of residential buildings, picked up her beloved bowl and hurriedly moved to the sofa.
It was already 8:04. The launch coverage would be underway.
As he brought the airvan to a stop, Francis turned the vanity mirror until he could see his own reflection and straightened his collar. He turned his head from left to right, analyzing the lines were carved into his face. Time and stress hadn't been overly kind. He paused when he noticed a fresh bead of sweat slithering through the creases from his brow. Quickly dabbing it with his shirt cuff, he turned the mirror back to its normal position.
Kappa radiation. The two words kept running through his mind. He fixated on them. He had no idea what it even was. According to the “gentleman” that he had purchased the device from, it was an unstable side effect of the reaction of three radioactive elements, but he wasn't paying enough attention to the conversation to recall adequately the details. Francis was far too nervous at the time to focus on the lengthy explanation of the chemistry behind it all. He only knew what the end result had to be and the man had promised the desired outcome.
A flickering of light caught his eye, pulling him back to the present and he picked the news-comm unit up from the middle of passenger's seat.
He stared at the scrolling text beneath the holographic image of the news anchor, sitting behind his desk. Hair sculpted to perfection, square chin, beaming smile. Francis missed having hair like that. Time and stress were unkind in that regard as well. He missed the locks of auburn that would fall over his eyes. So very long ago, that was.
He mentally shook away the thought and refocused on the semi-translucent man.
“Prince of Sobraka Joins Mass Exodus; Murderous Self-Appointed King Sends Family Heir to Copernicus?” the text scrolled. He rolled his finger across the touch-sensitive bar on the side on the small device, turning the volume up to listen to the broadcast.
“... scheduled to depart in less than 30 minutes time. For more on this, we go to Asha Kanchi, reporting live from the historic event. Asha?”
The hologram flickered a fraction of a second, and the image of the male in the news studio was replaced with a woman standing near a chain linked fence... Francis shifted his gaze out the passenger window... right over there. About 200 meters from his personal airbus. The young reporter, whom he assumed to be of some Eastern Indian heritage, and her video crew. Perfect.
Now to wait for the perfect moment.
I hope you enjoyed it, even if it wasn't as action-packed as the first chapter. If this post receives a positive enough response, perhaps I will share the final two chapters with you guys!
Remember, this is only a first draft, so it may have some upcoming tweaks and doctoring.
Big shout out to @rhondak @aggroed and the @sft project, where I hope to perhaps add some works one day, @minnowsupport for all they do, and @nettybot for being awesome!
Check outChapter 1 here, Chapter 4 here, and Chapter 5 here!
