Worldship Horizon, Scene 1

Worldship Horizon is constantly bouncing around my head, unfortunately nothing concrete, lots of scenes. So in the vein of Puddles and Whiskers, I am writing down the scenes to, hopefully, connect together later. Until then, enjoy. 🙂

Maxwell slapped the side of his helmet, the static disappeared, the tactical display on his visor returned, and disappeared just as quick. Leaning against a pile of debris, mostly large storage containers if he read the labels right, he took stock of his situation while bullets whined, winged, and ricocheted around him. Beyond the useless communications gear, pinned down in a hallway that looked and sounded like sections were seconds away from blowing out into space, most of his squad mates dead or wounded, and down to one or two clips of ammunition, at least he was alive. He flinched as shards from the wall flew his way from another, closer, ricochet.

He looked around him, Johannsson lay dead a few meters away between two storage boxes, across the hallway behind a large stack of storage crates and a damaged loader bot, Mitchell and Sams took cover. They nodded at him, Trisha Sams pointed at her helmet and shook her head, Maxwell shook his head in agreement, and they were screwed all right.

Who the invaders were Maxwell did not know, one moment eating lunch with the squad, the next alarms, and the sounds of the ship going to battle; thump of exterior weapons firing, tactical announcements over the ship, and people moving with purpose, military at least, to their stations. Luckily, ironically, he thought, his squad was on their way to their battle station when the attackers struck; a minute later and the attackers would have caught them unarmed. Running down the hallway, without warning static over comms, tactical displays go out, and shouts of alarm and injury when the bullets fly.

No time like the present, Maxwell turned to face the enemy, peaked over the edge of his cover, and for his courage rewarded with many ricochets and near misses. The enemy at the end of the end of the corridor behind a corner and more storage crates. For a second, he formed a mental note to talk to someone about all of the storage crates left around for the enemy to use as cover. A quick wave got Mitchell and Sams attention, Maxwell pulled a grenade off his belt and mimed throwing the grenade, Mitchell and Sams pulled a grenade and waited. Holding up three fingers, Maxwell dropped them…




Standing up, all three of them threw their grenades down the hallway. The milisecond they appeared the enemy started shooting, Mitchell ducked behind cover holding his right arm, Sams fell back, dead. Maxwell ducked behind the storage boxes and tucked into a ball, arms wrapped tightly around his legs.

Whomp, whomp, whomp; all three grenades exploded. Maxwell relaxed and turned to look over the boxes when he heard the noise, a long tearing, metal ripping sound, panicking he looked at Mitchell who flashed him a thumbs up right before he and Sams bodies along with the damaged bot, their cover, and other debris was forcefully ejected into space. Lifted off his feet, arms pin wheeling, Maxwell fly across the wall way and slammed into the emergency bulkhead; crashing to the ground with other debris Maxwell took stock of his situation.





World Ship Horizon II


Confused chatter continued non-stop.

“What happened?” Maxwell asked on the squad channel.

“No clue,” Tyrell quickly replied.

“I heard there’s been an explosion,” David added.



“Cut the chatter,” Squad Leader Strum commanded. Silence.

Maxwell thought about the possibilities, according to training, upon arrival troopers load up, debark and lead a landing onto the target planet, secure initial landing zones for supplies, and specialists. Perhaps that is what happened, although in training the only time the emergency lights and sirens sounds was during an emergency.

Accelerating out of the launch bay, the blunt nosed assault craft banked to the right making room for following ships. On his helmet display, Maxwell watched the tactical display showing ships, their paths, and returns from ships scanners; in a smaller window, he watched live holo-from assault ship five. Tactical display showed the formation of ten assault ships and cover fighters moving around the edge of the Horizon. Live holo-feed switched to a side-mounted camera, the Horizon filled the feed.

Watching the Horizon slowly pass, Maxwell thought about their mission, colonization or subjection of the target system, establish a presence, and prepare for following world ships and supplies to bring the brilliance of the Empire to the corner of the galaxy they were assigned to. On the feed, Maxwell watched exterior gun batteries track their formation, thousands of windows he could not see through, ports for landing and launching; he felt proud to be part of a new world ship mission.

“Look at that!” Someone exclaimed. Other voices joined the chatter filling the squad channel with the white noise of confused and concerned people.

Another holo-feed window opened on his display; blackened and twisted metal filled the screen. The tactical feed borders flashed red as new information loaded, thousands of different sized dots, a debris field. As the assault ship moved closer to the Horizon’s hull, Maxwell saw the damage, a massive explosion or explosions created a large hole where according to his display the transport drives should be. He ignored the bodies floating in space and the debris, focusing on the damage.

“How could this happen?”


The edges of his tactical display flashed red, warning of danger; explosions from an unseen source bracketed the assault ship five, bouncing everyone inside. His tactical display updated with the likely source of fire; from the opposite side of the Horizon.

“Vacuum preparations!” Squad Leader Strum commanded.

Maxwell’s suit and helmet sealed, air system currently hooked into assault ship five’s systems kicked on, and seal flashed green on his helmet display. Pressed into his seat as the ship accelerated, Maxwell fiddled with his auto-rifle waiting for an update or some information. Waiting, always the hardest part.

More explosions and bouncing, a symbol for a patrol fighter blinked out of existence. Tactical updated, projected path around the Horizon and over the small moon. Maxwell thought whoever was firing had excellent targeting tech. Estimated time to contact under a minute. Clicking over to the external feed, nothing but the black of space and distant stars.

The edge of the moon slowly appeared in the live feed. Curious, Maxwell ran a check against mission data, no matching information. Nothing special there. As assault craft five crested the horizon created by the moon, large shapes appeared out of the black, indistinct at first. As the ship accelerated closer…

“What is that?” someone asked in shock.

“Is that another world ship?”


“Look at it.”

Explosions, closer this time, bounced gear out of racks and at least one trooper shouted out in pain. Calls for the medic filled the channel. On the feed and tactical display, another world ship, heavily damage, floated amongst other smaller unidentified ships and debris. Opening up other comm-channels, Maxwell listened in.

“Hot Shot! Hot Shot!” some pilot shouted in response to fire from the new world ship.

“Not receiving any hail.”

“Can anyone get the registry?”

“Eject! Eject!”

“Recovery ships on the way.”

“Prepare for assault! All troopers prepare for assault!”

As one, Maxwell and all of the troopers stood, turned to face the front of the craft, readied their weapons, and waited. Acceleration pushed against the troopers and explosions caused them to sway and take steps to remain in position.

“Brace! Brace!”

The blunt nosed assault ship five crashed into the side of the world ship at full speed lodging deep inside the hull. Inside assault ship five, troopers rushed towards the front of the ship as the blunt nose opened and defensive guns laid down suppressive fire.

Com-channels immediately flooded with orders, sightings, requests, and the sounds of gunfire. On Maxwell’s tactical display, his position, the position of living members of his squad, and any enemies or points of interest. Even with the training, the flood of information overwhelmed him.

“Trooper! TROOPER MAXWELL!” Squad Leader Strumm shouted at him while shoving him forward, “Eyes on your objectives and mates.”

“Yes sir,” Maxwell replied while running down the ramp into the worldship.

World Ship Horizon

A good friend of mine wants to work with me on a game setting. He gave me an idea and this was my take on the idea or at least a portion of the idea. Since I am in story mode more than game mode, this is the opening in a serial tale. Enjoy. 🙂

World Ship Horizon

As each section reported ready, a section of the transparent holo of the world ship flashed green. Transport control officers managed the incoming reports directing crews to new locations, repairs, and final stages of pre-launch. Over all of the noise of the control room a solitary monotone voice counting down.



Locked into place, Private Maxwell looked around hold fifty-eight; hundreds of fellow troopers locked into place in various stages of waiting, ready, scared, sleepy, excited, and a hundred other emotions. Each trooper wearing full combat ready drop gear, their number emblazoned on their helmet, right shoulder, left breast, and Maxwell knew on each piece of gear. One thousand three hundred and thirteen, his number flashed red on his faceplate display. With a quick thought, Maxell checked in, the number flashing green.

Part of several communication networks, Maxwell heard fellow squad mates talking, snoring, praying; heard command chatter meant for squad leaders or higher in the command chain; and the ever present translation of the countdown.





Maxwell and every other individual posted to and locked in place on World Ship Horizon received an injection, immediate unconsciousness.

Holo green, the control room silent, as the countdown concluded.



Unheard by Maxwell, “One. Zero. Launch.”

From the center of World Ship Horizon, a yellow nimbus grew until the entire ship was inside a pulsing yellow nimbus…and then gone. In the command center the glare shields dropped. The holo vanished and the space where the Horizon sat, empty other than small amounts of debris. Everyone in the command center cheered another successful launch.


A bright yellow flash next to a dark grey moon, World Ship Horizon materialized and a gigantic explosion ripped a hole in one side. Material and individuals ejected into space. In relation to the moon the world ship listed to the right.

“Emergency! Emergency! All personnel prepare for vacuum conditions. All personnel prepare for vacuum conditions. All personnel to ready positions.”

Stimulant injected, all personnel woke up ready for action. Maxwell fell to his knees on waking, the locking harness no longer in position. Hold fifty-eight bathed in red emergency lights. Private Dorian heled Maxwell to his feet on her way to her ready position.

“Squad four to assault ship five.”

“…drive room explosion…”

“…leaders make sure all troopers are prepared for drop and vacuum…”

Confused chatter blared across all channels. Something was wrong. On his display, Maxwell along with the rest of his squad directed to their assigned assault ship. Constant drills ensured Maxwell knew the path, blindfolded, ensured he grabbed his weapon and pack out of the automated racks as he passed without any hesitation or error.

Rushing onto the assault ship, Maxwell dropped heavily into his assigned seat. Looking down at his auto-rifle, he had unconsciously performed standard weapon check. Private Dorian sat across from him wearing her usual serene smile; nothing seemed to phase her, while finishing attaching her gear. Watching her, Maxwell began to attach his gear.

Confused chatter continued non-stop.