David and Golaith

The blood red moon crept slowly into the sky, the stars vanishing at its arrival.
Its light carefully filled the wounded landscape revealing scorched craters, shattered rock and desolate entrenchments.
Twisted metal stands motionless and eerie in the red light of the moon.
The broken hulls of drop ships crouch low in great holes, burnt out tanks, jeeps, trucks and fallen walkers lie abandoned.
As the red moon rises the shapes soon can be seen on the broken ground.
Bodies.
They are littered everywhere, countless thousands of them.
All wearing the cumbersome environment suit that marks them as alliance solders.
Shadows in the shape of running men filter between cover.
The ground trembles, the soils roars as it is sprayed into the sky.
Solders scream into their radios as they die.
Explosions tear at the rock and soil sending men, rock and metal flying in their frenzy.
The bright flashes of small arms fire cry out in the dim light of the blood red moon.
Bullets smash though metal, brick and bone.
All that can be heard across the radio is frantic yelling and the screams of the dying.
Solders fall their suits hissing as air escapes their tanks, a hail of bullets and shrapnel cutting down everything in view.
The high-pitched whine of fighter engines grows ominously louder.
Bright silvery blurs sweep down out of nowhere, streams of blue light fly from their wings as they strafe.
Suddenly they are gone only to appear from another direction, blue light melting all it touches.
The Screaming continues as the night fills with stench of scorched flesh and the sounds of death.

His eyes opened.
All that remained of the dream was fading already.
The darkness that shrouded his cabin covered the metal walls and the spartan furnishings from sight.
Hendric sighed, dreams of the war haunted his every night filling his sleep with images of dying friends and the deaths of thousands.
In the silence of his cabin he could hear the creaking of the hull.
It sounded rough, coarse and spoke of metal fatigue far from the comforting sounds of the Eagle's Flight his old ship.
Many a night those soothing sounds had carried him to sleep.
Hendric unclipped himself from his bed and reached out to the drawer he knew was at his bedside.
He ran his hand down the front of the cabinet.
At the press of a button the drawer slid open.
Waiting in the drawer was a wristband, an unadorned ring and a thin gold chain.
He clipped the wristband on his left wrist without thinking, but he held the ring in his hand staring at it for a while.
The wristband beeped, a piercing sound that resounded in the quiet room.
With another sigh he pressed a button the device, a low buzzing could be somewhere else in his cabin.
The lights flashed on, blinding after what felt like an eternity in darkness.
Bare metal plating shone as dazzling as the lights they reflected.
Everything had the clean, crisp smell of something never used but respectfully cared for.
And Hendric hated it, it stank of wasted effort, time that should have been spent elsewhere.
In the heat of battle a clean gun barrel would serve you much better than a clean cabin.
The only furnishings in the room were compact, dull grey metal and had been designed for use in a place where up and down were loose concepts at best.
The lights ran along both the roof and the floor parallel to each other, hiding between the rows of lights storage lockers built into both.
Hendric opened another drawer and pulled out a small black box.
"Yes?"
A shrill amplified voice boomed out from the box.
"Sir the lead design team are asking for a moment of your time,"
Hendric groaned softly.
"Stall them for me. I believe Trept has few choice words for "the twisted leaches that built this hunk of trash" ,"
"Affirmative, but Trept was up here and he told me you missed a check-up or something, any way you still better get up here before the officer in charge chews his fingers off,"
"Why something go wrong?" Hendric replied smoothly.
"No sir, he's just afraid something will, you know the type, wet eared kid that would ruin his pants at the sight of an angry ferret,"
"Alright I'm on my way, keep me informed,"
"Yes sir!", with an another beep the radio clicked off, in the absence of the loud buzzing of electronics silence rushed in, soothing after it's absence.
Hendric casually pressed another button on the wristband.
Soundlessly a panel in the wall slide away.
A small bathroom was tucked away neatly in the tight space, filled with complex contraptions that would work in zero gravity.
Hanging in the middle of all the bizarre tubing a tall mundane mirror was affixed to the wall.
Tired feet dragged Hendric into the small space where he examined his narrow face in the clear crystal of the mirror.
His face looked even more gaunt and stretched, them he remembered it should be, his chiseled, rock like features looked ever more worn.
He could see his thinning black hair was greying fast, but his eyes had always been weary pits of deep sadness.
All the time his left arm hung limp and useless as with his right he detached a razor from beneath the mirror and began shaving.

The stench of human sweat hung in the air, growing, spreading and feeding of the countless people crowded in to the small storeroom.
A hard punch, a spray of blood, a roaring cheer.
In the centre of the incensed crowd two men danced around each other slamming their fists into each other at every opportunity.
With every staggering impact the crowd erupted in noise.
The larger of the two combatants, his white shirt soaked with sweat and blood, swung his fist into the side of his opponent's face.
The force of the blow sent his opponent flying from his feet, as the fighter crashed down to the ground the air was flooded with the sound of excited yelling.
The white shirted fighter reached down and pulled his beaten opponent to his feet.
"I...I'm n...not through yet" stammered the beaten fighter.
The white shirted fighter shocks his head, his oxen like face bruised and running with thin streams of blood.
"First teh hit de floor is de looser," his gruff booming voice filled the cramped storeroom silencing all but some excited whispering that flickered near the back.
"Deh da rules, deh da rules ya agreed teh," his slurred speech clearly marked him as someone born among low paid dockworkers.
Standing out in the dull greys and whites of the crowd four green coated men pushed their way forward through the milling squash of spectators.
"Re...rematch then," no longer he was speaking in a dazed stammer but still he gasped for breath.
"No, I'm afraid I can't allow that. You know the drill, we take you to a medical centre say you tripped and fell down a stairs," the leading green coat was filled with the confidence of someone who knew what no else knew, such was the attitude of most medics.
The colour of the uniform worn indicated the duties preformed, dark green meant medical staff, bright yellow signified cargo crew, red signified a pilot, blue security, brown technical staff, grey for a marine and black for command crew.
The "black coats" referred to the people working at each separate as a caste.
For simplicity navel personnel often used the colour of the uniform as a name for each duty that the crew perform.
"Any dizziness?, Are you light headed?, Do you feel nauseous?, Do you notice any thing wrong with your vision?"
The barrage of questions continued dragging on and on.
"Forget it there's nothing wrong him, there never is. If a tank hit him he'd still be fine. Now go get the stretcher, this fool's legs look likely to go from under him,"
"Well I guess you can go get yourself cleaned up then and tell Haliem he still has to come through on his end of the deal, now get outa here before security arrive" in the passing of a second the green coat vanished into the dwindling crowd.
People drifted slowly out the only door occasionally clustering in groups to talk and whisper in loud tones.

Red clouds shifted and changed as they drifted in the water.
Red droplets fell form above to mingle with the water.
Figures dipped into the water and shook about leaving a larger red cloud floating.
“Osslow, great fight, great fight!” a voice that drifted from somewhere close to the floor declared.
The white shirted fighter dried his hands and face and stared at the short man.
“Haliemm da medics say ya ain’t come through on yar end uv the deal,” Osslow slowly sputtered.
“Haliem always comes through on his end of the deal, that’s right, yeah,” the short man was full of bravado and noise and seemed to think he could make up for his height through pure showmanship “Speaking of which here’s your cut of the proceeds, take’em , here you are,”
He laid a bunch of ration books beside the water basin.
Onboard a ship everything had to be rationed from luxuries like cigarettes to essentials like water, when underway money lost all meaning and ration books became a currency in themselves.
“anks” mumbled Osslow sliding the ration books into his pocket.
“I had an idea that I’d like to run by you…”
“Ime not taken a fall!” snarled the heavy fighter.
“I never suggested such a thing, but I was thinking corridor alpha 342 will be free three cycles every five, no one will have any reason to go down there and it’s long very long…”
“Haliemm…”
“it’s built for external access so it’s roof is extra high and walkways  run the sides of it, it runs into a cargo bay making it perfect for loader racing, what do ya think, what do you think of it,”
“Haliemm, someune ill get hurt and der’s no way ya ain’t gonna get caught,”
“Come on Osslow I know most of the loader crews look up to you, would you be able to speck to them on my behalf, could you speck to them for me?”
“Dey look up tu me because I look out for dem, no, somune ill get hurt,”
“Would you do this for a friend? Look I promise nothing will happen, they’ll be fine nothing will go wrong,”
“Alright but if somthun does happen, I’ll trow you out the exter-nal ackess port for alphe 342,”


Bright and unblinking the stars puncture the black void.
Numbering near infinite they gaze upon fragments of rock remnants of collisions long past as they drift gracefully through the eternal void.
Dust is swept away from the twisting rocks as they pick up speed, turning ever so slightly.
Dust is sprayed across dull black metal.
A metal skin resisting the cold eternal night of space, painted across it's side in red fifty foot letters the name Goliath shines.
The metal mass seems shapeless and invisible against the black void.
Bright pin pricks, sown across it's surface imitate the stars.
Moving from behind an orange sphere of rock and gas, the light from a lonely sun illuminates the thick hull of the warship Goliath.
It's huge.
It's a levitation among levitations, around it smaller ships fly like insects, the normally mighty and impressive ships of the 42nd fleet humbled by the sheer size of the new warship.
Interstellar ships consist of several decks built around a central core. These decks form rings around this core giving capital ships their cylindrical shape.
As ships fly through space they spin, everything inside is pushed towards the outside and against the curved floor.
This remarkably gives the sensation of standing still even though passengers on board are being spun round twenty times an hour.
“Magnificent isn’t it captain?”
“Perhaps but every prototype has it’s flaws,” Hendric replied “I have of course complied a formal document detailing each we have already encountered,”
They sat round a glass table positioned for the best view out of the wall-sized window that dominated the room.
“There couldn’t be any problems we gave the Goliath an incredibly through series of tests,” the engineer’s voiced showed clear signs of irritation no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
“There are a great many design flaws, I uploaded a complete list to your P.D.D.s,” all traces of emotion drained from Hendric’s voice “First on that list the navigation systems uses metric measurements while the sensor banks use radic and yet the multi functional software you have can’t do the conversion so it has to be done by hand, which as you are no doubt aware can take weeks. This makes co-ordination between navigation and sensors impossible,”
“But you fail to realise…”
“Second on the list the voice recognition program had to be taken offline, targeting is off centre by four miles, your coolant system is unreliable and inefficient but my senior engineer is redesigning it while we‘re in dry dock,” Hendric ploughed on “The left directional engine is stronger than the right, cabling at the junctions in the power distribution network can’t maintain the high levels of volts and amps they will have to handle when she’s underway,”
“You don’t like us do you?”
“It’s not my place to like you or hate you. I have been to four of these meetings each for a new ship and not once have I seen or spoken to any of it’s participants again, I suspect this meeting will be no different,” Hendric’s voice was as always smooth and under control.
“I think that’s all we need for now, Capt. Hendric has provided our P.D.D.s with a list of problems and potential problems review the list and come up with possible solutions,”
As the engineers stood up to leave the one seated opposite from Hendric remained firmly in his uncomfortable chair.
“Captain would you stay for a minuet,” his voice was surprisingly warm, he hadn’t spoken during the meeting he looked to be in his thirties with short brown hair that was showing signs of receding “Forgive them, they are young and foolish,”
“They are Gaiden”
“The Gaiden Corporation is the main reason this government is still intact, the troubles following the Valhedrum war would have plunged civilisation back into the dark ages had it not been for the Gaiden Corporation,”
“You can not ask me to accept that our government has grown relent on amoral arms companies. We fought long and hard against countless foes in an effort to restore freedom and security but I am forced to watch quietly as they are stolen away!” some of Hendric’s control began to slip.
“This fight is not ours any longer it belongs to the young and foolish,”
He stood up revealing his spotless white uniform, an intricate golden pattern on its collar and three short golden lengths of rope hanging from his shoulder.
The three ropes marked him as admiralty “Hendric I’m not here to argue with you but I am here talk about Trept,”
“Trept?” Hendric’s voice for the first time contained a note of surprise.
“Yes Trept the man you made your chief medical officer a long time ago. It was unnecessary to check his background, until he became a ranking officer on a secret prototype ship. So Hendric who is he?”
“A friend whom I trust,”
“I accept that and trust your judgement but my superiors don’t, if you remember you have insulted them and ignored their orders many times in the past,”
“Just tell them he is my responsibility if he turns out to be spy they’ll finally have the excuse they’ve been looking for to nail me to the wall,”
“Hendric…”
“And never try to get me to accept Gaiden personnel, now I have a deadline to make, we must be underway in two days,” with that Hendric stood up and strode out the door his black uniform adorned with a simple golden rope marking a ship captain.

The door to the main medical facility slid back, the limited space onboard a ship meant cramped corridors and 2x1 quarters housing two people, yet the medical stations around the Goliath were given more room.
Hendric had experienced the horror of field hospitals in mid battle and knew the value of space when it came to the panicking and desperate medics trying to keep solders alive.
Everything was various shades of white, pristein and cleaner than ever would be again after it was used.
An enourmous crash resounded through out the med bay as somewhere pristine medical equipment cascaded to the floor.
It was followed shortly by loud swearing and curses directed at the designers of the ship.
"I see you are well," said Hendrick as he wound through the maze of complicated machines and packed.
"The fools couldn't even design shelves right," hissed Trept as he gathered the surgical implements that had fallen.
"It's on the list of things to be fixed,"  replied Hendrick, a touch of concern entered his voice as he continued "The admiral was asking about you,"
"What did you tell him?"
"That you are my friend, nothing else,"
Sighing Trept wispered "I hate this hiding, this lieing the whole time,"