PDA

View Full Version : Trethel



josh23
September 25th, 2010, 05:39 AM
Living in Trethel city has always been easy, for me at least. My names Forty Seven, everyone in Trethel is named according to their unit. So everyone in unit forty seven is named Forty Seven.

We aren’t exactly slaves, but we aren’t exactly free either. We are assigned jobs when we are born, but we weren’t paid for our work. There are rumors that other cities paid their workers, but for most everyone, those are just rumors.

When we are born we are genetically tested for disorders and diseases by examining our genetic code, no one in Trethel had one. If you did, you were sent to the undercity, directly below Trethel. Where you worked providing energy to our factories until you eventually died from malnutrition or exhaustion.

My unit is known as a Skei unit, Skei meaning ‘that which cuts through water’. We are the smallest unit in Trethel, just seventy five, Forty Sevens. But we are the most renowned, or our predecessors were to be more exact.

Both of my younger brothers had been sent to the undercity just four weeks after they were born. There they were raised to the age of ten before being assigned a job. I had paid through the nose to find out that they were still alive. They would be twenty three, and seventeen now and were working in a coal mine. What coal looked like I had no idea, but I knew it was bad. Everything down there was bad.

I don’t mean pay with money, there has never been any real money in Trethel. Food was given out based on your needs, shock troopers are given more food then a Skei class soldier. They were given more protein, and omega fat based foods to help boost testosterone levels.

Everyone slept with their unit, in each barracks there were a certain number bunks. unit forty seven had twenty three bunks. This apparently was to make the soldiers care more for each other as they slept with each other. We were supposed to rotate every day, so that everyone shared the role of sleeping on the ground. I never had.

Now when I say pay, I mean with favours, there is an underground market that pays greatly for assistance. Whether it be looking the other way during sentry duty, or guaranteeing a building was not searched. Did I mention that Trethel was a military city, a fortress really. Everything revolved around the army. No one in Trethel, except the incredibly powerful, would live a ‘normal’ life.
Simply reach the age of twenty and any army in the world would consider you among their best. At ten you were expected to understand the mechanics behind any gun your squad would ever need or encounter. As well as fire it at a professional level. Meaning you could hit a target nine times out of ten at the guns maximum accurate range.

At fifteen you knew how to pilot any vehicle you could possibly need. As well as repair, disassemble and reassemble it.
At the same time you would have killed a dog you had raised from birth, if you did not kill the dog exactly when you were told, which could be at any time. You were sent to the undercity. My father had failed to kill the dog when he was nineteen, and my mother at seventeen. I was the anomaly in my family. A successful Trethellian. Though I had yet to breed, which was expected, but not mandatory starting at the age of sixteen.
The Trethel population was bred to be ruthless, uncaring and logical. The perfect soldier in our governments eyes.
I had ruled the underground market for three years now, and I was only seventeen. In Trethel real power came from knowledge, and I knew everything that was happening in the city. And I knew every major underground dealer. I knew that almost every rumour that floated into the damn city was true. I traded with the outside world, I sold them government officials, sometimes technology, and on occasion information regarding Trethels plans. And in exchange they provided me with weaponry, money in offshore accounts, I had accumulated more than three hundred million dollars. While it would be relatively easy to get my own weaponry, I’d rather not draw attention to myself. But more importantly they gave me information.

For example, I knew a large shipment of heroine was coming into the city tonight, and heroine was quite possibly the most valuable substance on the face of the planet. It could be used to addict someone quite easily. Simply slip it into their food and before long they are willing to kill for another dose.

Which was exactly why I was sitting in the cold behind a stack of tank treads. I had been gathering a small army of followers for two years now. We were armed with rpgs, machine guns, grenades and several sniper rifles. Overkill for what we were doing really.

The government did not put much security on these shipments, despite the fact that one in ten was taken by myself. They didn’t want to attract attention to themselves by putting more than a few guards on the shipment.

Any material that could be used to build weapons was guarded however. Be it something as cheap as copper, or something as expensive as platinum or gold, it was guarded so heavily that whole sections of the city were evacuated for days until the shipment arrived at one of the dozens of weapons factories. And these shipments came at least twice a month.

The city in general was cold and ugly. All the buildings were built with the same cold, dull grey concrete. Except for the missile silos and such, they were reinforced titanium alloy. But then, there was no need for the city to be visually attractive. As I said before, it was simply a fortress.

But it was always dark, Trethel had very little color, and while it shouldn‘t have, it bugged me. I had never once seen a ray of sunlight, though I occasionally saw the stars. The most colourful thing I had ever seen, was an explosion.

But as far as I was aware, the sun rose above the city every morning and set every night as it did in most of the world. Which has led me to believe that Trethel is in fact, underground itself. Which meant in turn, that when our planes and helicopters leave, they leave at night to avoid the sunlight.

Which further convinces me that Trethel is simply a fortress.

“ I’m going now, you know what to do and where to dump the stuff. Make sure if any blood is spilled you make sure its cleaned up. And don’t leave a body behind.” I said crossly, the last thing we needed was a repeat of three months ago, the officials had checked the blood and traced it to four of my people.

It had cost me a lot of favours to get the thirty guards I needed to get past to look the other way. One had even asked me to get his daughter out of the undercity. I was still working on that one. But it had to be done, none of the four had spoken, and ever would.

“ We know-”

“ Obviously not!” I cut Jessica Kosak off angrily, her real name was Eighty Three. But as a commander among my army she had earned the right to a real name. “ If any blood is spilled on our side you are to chisel the concrete out and dump it in the water where it will not be found. If we lose a soldier tie their body to the concrete!” It was unfair to the departed, but necessary. I wasn’t about to risk my life for them, though I would never say it aloud, that kind of information was a good way of creating divisions in an army.

The submarine was surfacing a few hundred feet away, but I wouldn’t be close enough to hear the gunshots when they rang out. I would probably hear the guard house explode though, but none of that bugged me. What bugged me was the fact that sooner or later I would be leaving Trethel for some mission or another. I could always desert, but I knew the government would track me down and kill me.

Trethel had done a good job training me, I had no remorse for my enemies, I acted based on logical calculations, not emotion. If I lost ten people tonight it was an acceptable loss. As I said before, power came from knowledge, and heroine was the best way to acquire knowledge.

The alarm sounded above my head with a distinct sound of waves in the background. The docks under attack, I thought to myself silently. I looked around frantically, I was trained to deal with the unexpected, why couldn’t I think of a plan now. I could abandon my people, silencing them would not be easy, may not even be possible.

I had connections and followers in ever corner of the city, excluding the very top of the government. And they had interrogated criminals themselves before. Kill them, my mouth twisted sourly at the idea of killing comrades. Every fibre of my body fought against it, but the need to survive overpowered it.

I had weapons hidden all over the city, so it was easy to get one. This part of the city had been evacuated for a shipment of reinforced steel that would be coming in tomorrow. So I didn’t even have to worry about being seen.

Bracing myself against a concrete wall I pushed a dull grey dumpster, which would have been much heavier if it had been full. But garbage removal was extremely efficient, as were all aspects of Trethel. So it was almost empty, save a couple of boxes and empty bullet casings. Underneath the dumpster was an entrance to the sewer.

I crouched and grabbed the iron grate with both hands, lifting with my feet I set it down gently beside the dumpster and fished around just under the surface. I had hidden a few pistols down here a few weeks ago. I quickly grabbed four, I put two modified Uzis in my belt and I left the two modified desert-eagles on the ground as I moved the grate back into place.

Grabbing them I ran out of the alleyway onto the main street. Somehow people had gotten to the docks already and I could hear the battle clearly. Their were two antitank guns being fired, which drowned almost everything out. But I could hear the screaming as well. Apparently Kosak had decided to stay and fight.

In just over a minute I turned a corner onto the battlefield, what had been a dock priding itself on efficiency just a few minutes ago had been turned into a wasteland. Bodies and rubble littered the street, blood was smeared across every wall and the antitank guns had left craters in every surface. The guardhouse had been obliterated, the submarine had submerged itself, or had been sunk. The stench of death hung thickly in the air, my own superstitions, it hadn’t been long enough to begin smelling anything remotely like death. Not to mention the smoke would have overpowered it.

Looking back and forth as I hid behind the same tank treads I had before I could see how screwed I was. There were too many recruits in the battle, and more would be coming with the loyal Trethellians. If I fought against my people, my people would turn on me. We had been taught that comradeship was more important than life.

But if I fought with them, they all died, including me. Why can’t they understand the need for sacrifices, I cried to myself silently.
I stood up among my fellow soldiers, just two of them in a crowd of dozens loyal to me. He could almost see the horror in Kosaks eyes as he pulled the trigger. Only she had truly understood the need for sacrifice, and it was only for her that I would be dying tonight.

At the sound of bullets so near the soldiers instinctively dropped to the ground, unaware however that I had already emptied my two clips into the crowd. More than likely seven or eight of them would never rise nor return fire.

The two recruits looked me dead in the eye, with a simple shake of my head I watched them change in front of me. Where in their eyes there had been a blind terror gripping them, just moments before, a tear filled their eyes. I had taken great care that everyone worked in cells. I was their only connection to any other cell. Without me no one else would be at risk.

The bullets tore through the crowd mercilessly, an enemy was an enemy their age and sex were of no concern to me.
Everyone in the battle could hear where the firing was coming from, and in a heartbeat every gun had turned on me. In the moment of hesitation that followed all hell broke loose.

From every corner of the battlefield guns began firing, everyone that worked for me turned their guns on their units. Bullets sang out a chorus of misery and betrayal above my head as my men died for me.

“ Take those antitank guns!” I roared, somehow through the chaos surrounding us I found myself surrounded by seven Forty Sevens.

“ We have your back man. The cause of one of us is taken up by the rest.” They were right. Despite our units class, Skei soldiers had nothing to do with the water. We were primarily snipers. And on every roof surrounding the docks, faces I had been raised around my whole life were grinning back at me.

“ Three, two, one!” We rolled from behind the rubble I had been hiding behind, machine guns blazing. I watched in horror as the antitank guns turned towards us, but to slowly, our bullets cut through their bodies and before long the roar of their chambers were silenced.

Scrambling to our feet we ran across the open field as bullets danced around us, towards the guns, towards victory. One hundred metres. The man to the left of me disappeared in an explosion, dirt and blood spraying in every direction. Eighty metres. A bullet ripped into my best friends shin, he slammed into the rubble forcibly his gun shaking as he raised it in retaliation.

Fifty metres, I heard my best friend screaming as the bullets tore through his chest, a traitor was a traitor, the enemy didn’t care how many times he had helped them.

Fifteen metres, ten metres, an explosion threw me against a wall, I could feel the warm blood running down my now broken neck. The remaining Forty Sevens slid into position behind the guns and with practiced ease reloaded them. I listened to the music, despite its horrors I found it relaxing and I was reminded of my favourite song.

“ Take me away…”

Richard Smith
September 26th, 2010, 08:47 AM
Living in Trethel city has always been easy, for me at least. My names Forty Seven, everyone in Trethel is named according to their unit. So everyone in unit forty seven is named Forty Seven. [This could be handled better, like I have a name, Forty Seven. It is the same name as everyone else in my unit. Then, you could combine the following paragraph with your first.

We arent exactly slaves, but we arent exactly free either. We are assigned jobs when we are born, but we werent paid for our work.[That sounds like slavery to me, unless it is indentured servitude, and they have to work until they have paid off a debt.] There are rumors that other cities paid their workers, but for most everyone, those are just rumors.[Department of Redundancy Department has made an entrance.]

When we are born we are genetically tested for disorders and diseases by examining our genetic code, no one in Trethel had one.[Previous sentence does not read very well.] If you did, you were sent to the undercity, directly below Trethel.[DoRD strikes again. You could just say that anyone with genetic defects were sent to the undercity.] Where you worked providing energy to our factories until you eventually died from malnutrition or exhaustion.[This last sentence feels like a fragment, incomplete somehow]

My unit is known as a Skei unit, Skei meaning that which cuts through water. We are the smallest unit in Trethel, just seventy five, Forty Sevens. But we are the most renowned, or our predecessors were to be more exact.

Both of my younger brothers had been sent to the undercity just four weeks after they were born. There they were raised to the age of ten before being assigned a job. I had paid through the nose to find out that they were still alive.[Where did the money come from, I thought he wasn't paid?] They would be twenty three, and seventeen now and were working in a coal mine. What coal looked like I had no idea, but I knew it was bad. Everything down there was bad.

I dont mean pay with money, there has never been any real money in Trethel. Food was given out based on your needs, shock troopers are given more food then a Skei class soldier. They were given more protein, and omega fat based foods to help boost testosterone levels.[Starting to come together a bit, but your story is going nowhere, and you've already started losing this reader's interest. Get on with the story already.]

------------------------------------
I need to cut this short, I am being marauded by three children. I know you have this fantastic, well-thought-out dystopian world, but you are sacrificing your story to paint your picture. Get on with your story, right away. Build your world as you go, don't dump info on me. I really like the story later on, I just want to get in to the action, the story which doesn't really get going for me until what is page 2 of an A4 sheet.

I noticed your spellings are a mix between UK and US english. You have weaknesses in the way you tell your story, but the story you are trying to tell is really good. Get some good storytelling, and you are on to a real winner here I think.