Lately all I’ve been doing writing-wise is revising my novel. I want to do some new creating. So I’m going to start something new here on the blog. My goal is to keep moving forward, to not revise, to free myself from revision or worry. Here we go.
Silver Pod Part 1: The Besh Vessel
The breadth of Earth filled his vision to the brim then overflowed. Besh, perched naked atop the nose of the starship, quivered. He almost un-swallowed his tongue, but he kept it in place, holding down the contents of his stomach against the vacuum of space.
He queried Helper.
“Megalophobia – Fear of large things,” Helper helpfully explained the sensation Besh felt.
“Does Water want to experience this?” Besh queried silently. Water sometimes wished to experience fears of height, of falling, of being hunted, fears like this one.
“No.” Helper did not elaborate.
Besh wrapped his arms around himself for comfort, making sure to keep his feet securely tucked beneath one of the external holds. Something was wrong.
The Earth was massive. Blues and whites stretched out on all sides, enveloping Besh. He began to feel the bitter tickle of the upper atmosphere against his skin. Static fuzzed in his ears.
“The ship isn’t slowing down,” Besh observed.
“Why isn’t the ship slowing down?” Besh modified.
“I don’t know,” Helper replied.
Besh quivered with fear. He wanted to feel goose pimples along his skin. He wanted to cry out. But his skin had hardened against the vacuum, his capillaries had emptied. His lungs were pressed flat to prevent them from being damaged.
Something was wrong.
Besh grabbed the hand holds and clambered over the ship to the airlock. The airlock was open on both ends. Besh was the only organic crew member and he had his air suit. Besh slipped his wrists and ankles through the rings of the air suit. The rest of the suit wrapped itself around him, sealed, then exhaled a hug of air into the suit.
Besh’s lungs expanded. The first breath was always a marvel even though it hurt a little. It was a good hurt. Water had always liked it anyway, and what Water liked, Besh liked.
“Water!” Besh called out verbally.
There was no response.
Besh grabbed a seeker drone and told it to take him to the bridge. The drone whisked Besh down the empty corridors of the starship.
The bridge had three acceleration chairs, two more than the ship had needed for years. Besh strapped himself into one and called up the computer on the display. He didn’t need it to tell him that the hull’s temperature was rising. A groan ran through the ship like the moan of a dying Strondbeest from the beaches of Vela IV.
“Where is Water?” Besh asked Helper.
“I don’t know.”
“Where is Water?” Besh asked the computer.
“Not found,” said the computer.
Besh felt a feeling that he had felt from time to time, but that he had never known Water to seek out. A feeling that Water avoided, even at his most curious, was a truly terrible feeling indeed. Besh felt utterly alone.
The Earth grew larger in the viewport.
Haste Writing 
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