Creative Exercise 5/5/10
I’ve had this sitting around since last month, before school and everything crushed my creative vibe again. Anyway, it’s not much, only an exercise, but every little bit helps. Enjoy!
Song on repeat: Pretty Lights – Total Fascination
The single remaining exo pilot remained still as he surveyed the wreckage of the once proud fleet. The debris of human machinery intermingled with the invading alien tech. His failing booster systems no longer had the power to keep him suspended against the earth’s gravitational pull. More from stubbornness than anything, the pilot fought to keep his machine afloat while replaying the events of the battle that left countless dead in order to ensure the continued survival of the human race.
. . .
The battle group knew they were the last line of defense for Mother Earth. They massed together, forming a wall of exo’s shielding their jumpoff station and the earth behind it. All faces were turned towards the moon, locked onto the enormous energy signature they knew was going to physically manifest itself.
The first blips appeared on the forward exo’s sensory banks. The commanders knew it wasn’t the right moment, although they could understand the desire to repel these bloodthirsty invaders. They were the last, the scant remains of Sol Defense Corps. If they failed, humanity was doomed.
When the attack came, the speed and ferocity of it nearly overwhelmed the battle group. There was a massing of heat signatures from behind the moon’s dark side, and then a large, dark wave came crashing into the first line of defenders. The commanders gave the order to fire at will and the black vacuum of space was lit up by a technicolor storm of plasma and laser bursts. From the space station viewports, explosions obscured the view of the moon, as the wall of destruction slammed into the invaders and found their marks.
Large scale attacks by themselves were not enough and the enemy force continued to push on.
. . .
His onboard computer spouted warnings that his life support system was beginning to fail and that the pressurized atmosphere was leaking out. He was one of the first of the defenders to meet the invading force head on and he could still remember trying to fight an enemy that surrounded him. The first few moments saw his exo battered from all different directions until he managed to orient himself against his attackers.
. . .
The front line defenders disengaged from their Orbital Assault attachments and sped towards the growing mass of invaders. They weaved in and out of their compatriots’ beams as they continued battering the advancing tidal wave. When the line of defenders slammed into the line of invaders, the commanders were able to hear the battle cries of the pilots over the comm systems. The pilots pushed their exo’s to the limit as they juked every which way within the chaotic mess that was the battle space. It was working. The lack of a cognizant battle plan and the degeneration of the fleet’s battle formation threw the aggressors into disarray. The melee was working to the advantage of the fleet, as they were more used to the gritty up close fighting that human space battles always degenerated into.
. . .
The systems shut down one by one, and as he used up his remaining air, the exo pilot wondered if his sacrifice would be heeded by the human race. The vibrations in the controls continued to get worse as the boosters’ fuel cells finally ran dry. In a slow motion pirouette, the exo tilted towards the irresistible pull of the planet’s gravity well. Atmospheric fire tinged its outer frame as the metal gave way. The exo, bleeding out its internal machinery, became a shooting star to those looking up from Earth.
