Re: The Gradual Massacre (GBS2G4) [Round 3: Las Orbitas]
05-08-2011, 04:09 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Godbot.
Dark
and wet
and warm
but the thick, sickly-sweet scent of pheromone gas didn't like it
too dark, they said as they seeped through the hatchling ouroborite's bloated host carcass
and too small, decided two dripping scythes that ripped through the wet, rotted chitin overhead. The hatchling burst free of the husk of its mangled host corpse, stretching its brand-new mandibles. The darkness around it was thick and deep, and the gases were rich and choking – but here, insects flowed endlessly all around it. A dense tangle of claws and pincers made it impossible to see what was ahead, but the hatchling instinctively fell into skittering step with the others.
Even before its eyes had adjusted, a demand that it feed burned insatiably within it. It wasn't just the gases telling it to kill and eat, though the urge was there; It was that the work it took for the hatchling to grow and break out of the host carcass had already left it practically starving. It twisted around, searching for the husk that it had emerged from only a few moments ago – just one dead ouroborite in a sea of violent live ones. Jagged claws caught on each other and raked against the hatchling as it wrestled to turn back against the onslaught of insects. An unexpecting ouroborite crashed headlong into the hatchling, locking mandibles and struggling for control. The hatchling fought back frantically, trying to see through the endless swarm for its discarded host carcass, before something else snapped it up. In a moment of desperation, it squeezed its jaws and reared back to hack through the underbelly of the raging, confused insect in its way.
The flow of insects shifted just then, and a new swarm of ouroborites broke through to stampede over and through the hatchling, its quickly dying attacker, and everything else in their path. The hatchling desperately clung to the fresh kill with both claws as they rolled and tumbled helplessly against a surge of claws and a battle cry. Finally they were cast to one side, falling through a few ouroborites before the hatchling landed on its back. It scrabbled to pull itself up, and with its rapidly fading strength it ripped away the head of the carcass, holding it in its great mandibles as its proboscis and inner pincers hacked and tore away bloody pieces for the hatchling to promptly devour. Another ouroborite homed in on the freshly eviscerated corpse, followed by another – and soon, the hatchling was driven back by the ceaseless fighting, still carrying its kill's head in its jaws.
The Countess did her best to put the agitated shrieking and crawling out of her mind as she fixed her gaze on the ceiling. Well, of course it would turn out that way: Luring Ouroborous here by letting it eat the station's electrical systems was a fine way to cause a power outage. She should have thought of that sooner, she supposed.
At least this horrid place wouldn't be around much longer.
She drew back from the advancing swarms, lighting up in the darkness as she sparked in a thousand points on her body. Two legs shot out and sheared through ouroborites as she lifted her cannon arm – or rather, pulled it free of the tangled cloak of insects swarming across her – and began winding it up. As it lit up, ouroborites immediately scrambled over her spark vial, drawn to the light like, well... bugs. She shook a few off, shattering one or two against the floor, but more quickly arrived to mindlessly crawl across it. She clicked and sighed a small volume of her newly-synthesized “calm” scent. A few slid off of her as their muscles relaxed. She only really had to look like she was fighting, anwyay.
Holly's agitation gathered in her palm and manifested into a bright ball of electricity, which she hurled at the ouroborites skittering towards her. It sparked across the metal ground, sizzling insects and causing a few to burst. A few weak tendrils of electricity jolted from her body, frying two more without her noticing. Between the physical and emotional stress of fighting screeching insects in the dark and the mental and magical stress of throwing electric feelings at them, she staggered backwards. “Why is there a dumpster of meat in here?!” she demanded.
Her foot caught on a cable.
“That's a good story,” said the Countess. The intricate gears in her mouth ground and sparked, lighting up her face as she grinned in the darkness. “...but I don't think you've got the time to hear it.”
click
An electric current shot down the wires extending from her arm, snaking across the floor through the battlefield. When Holly shook off the cable, if fell onto an ouroborite, and immediately electrocuted it. She looked up at where the other end went just in time to see the corpses inside the dumpster burst into flames, and the insects crawling across it fall away in swathes as they were shocked to death on the metal surface.
And then the purple, conductive gel lining the ring began to light up.
...And then the stadium floodlights flicked back on, blinding Countess and Holly as Algernon's perpetual motion generator kicked in, supplying the stadium with a near-infinite amount of power through ruined electrical conduits. The floodlights lit up to full strength and then some, and a few shorted out or caught fire. A long-abandoned speaker started up again, blaring advertisements for the pristine spacefaring city of New Miranda, still under construction. The warning lights on the rink went on. Feedback shrieked through the loudspeakers, and Ouroborous shrieked back.
Countess tore the wires off her arm as she looked over her shoulder at the warning lights. One blew out as the rink's gravitational field powered back on after years of inactivity -
“...shit.”
...and then overloaded.
We can't control gravity. Gravity is a fundamental interaction of nature, and we don't know what causes it or how it works. We can't make a skating rink that controls gravity.
We can, however, make a skating rink that approximates that by repelling matter.
And as Countess learned, we can also break it.
First, the dust and purple gel floated into the air, coalescing into droplets. The insects followed, starting with the few in the center of the rink. A few shrieked in protest as they drifted into the air, but far more of them were just stunned, or in shock. Holly tried to run, but her feet left the floor. Countess scrabbled for the wire (read: lifeline) that she had let go of a moment ago as screws undid themselves and metal tiles shook loose. Holly had to duck and cover her head to avoid the dumpster flying overhead as the matter repulsion field began to power on faster and faster. The stadium seating was welded down, so it came apart at the seams instead, scattering rotted cushions and hinged armrests into the air, and the air rushing away from the rink hurled them against the walls. The lights flickered as the rink lit up brighter and brighter, its dull humming reaching a crescendo. The droplets of gel burst into flames, and the walls buckled, and the ceiling began to strip itself away until the air pressure quietly forced it to crack.
Air roared out of the hole in the stadium in all directions, causing nearby pressurized rooms and corridors to burst open. Giant slabs of metal violently tore themselves free from the walls and floor to crash against each other, and the matter-repelling plate slowly rose into the air – or rather, pushed the floor away from it, straining the thick cables that were rapidly feeding it with more and more power. Seeing her chance, Countess sprouted a knife from her hand and hurled it at the exposed cables, only to cover her face as the repulsion field hurled it right back. Ouroborites splattered against the walls, and the whole room split open along one wall, followed by another. With one final groan, the stadium finally burst apart, sending supports, plating and rows of seating hurtling through the lower levels of Las Orbitas as the overloaded repulsion plate similarly tore them apart. A sudden surge of air took Countess with it through a maintenance corridor to a residential area that had already been sealed off and partially dismantled. She frantically grabbed onto a passing row of seating, which promptly pulled her along as it smashed through the outer wall into -
As the remaining air shot away, it got very dark.
And dry.
And cold.
And quiet.
Countess soundlessly blinked her eyes as the outer hull of Las Orbitas came into focus. She absently let go of row of seating, and it drifted off in the opposite direction as she gently drifted away. The outside was unimaginably massive, stretching out into dull grey wings and sections for as far as she could see as it slowly, silently came apart at the seams. People lived here, once. Thousands of them. For years. And even looking out the observation decks – there, she was pretty sure she could see it out of the corner of her eye – she hadn't realized quite how big it all was.
...And now she was outside of it, was the next thing she realized. Pretty far outside.
Great.
Dark
and wet
and warm
but the thick, sickly-sweet scent of pheromone gas didn't like it
too dark, they said as they seeped through the hatchling ouroborite's bloated host carcass
and too small, decided two dripping scythes that ripped through the wet, rotted chitin overhead. The hatchling burst free of the husk of its mangled host corpse, stretching its brand-new mandibles. The darkness around it was thick and deep, and the gases were rich and choking – but here, insects flowed endlessly all around it. A dense tangle of claws and pincers made it impossible to see what was ahead, but the hatchling instinctively fell into skittering step with the others.
Even before its eyes had adjusted, a demand that it feed burned insatiably within it. It wasn't just the gases telling it to kill and eat, though the urge was there; It was that the work it took for the hatchling to grow and break out of the host carcass had already left it practically starving. It twisted around, searching for the husk that it had emerged from only a few moments ago – just one dead ouroborite in a sea of violent live ones. Jagged claws caught on each other and raked against the hatchling as it wrestled to turn back against the onslaught of insects. An unexpecting ouroborite crashed headlong into the hatchling, locking mandibles and struggling for control. The hatchling fought back frantically, trying to see through the endless swarm for its discarded host carcass, before something else snapped it up. In a moment of desperation, it squeezed its jaws and reared back to hack through the underbelly of the raging, confused insect in its way.
The flow of insects shifted just then, and a new swarm of ouroborites broke through to stampede over and through the hatchling, its quickly dying attacker, and everything else in their path. The hatchling desperately clung to the fresh kill with both claws as they rolled and tumbled helplessly against a surge of claws and a battle cry. Finally they were cast to one side, falling through a few ouroborites before the hatchling landed on its back. It scrabbled to pull itself up, and with its rapidly fading strength it ripped away the head of the carcass, holding it in its great mandibles as its proboscis and inner pincers hacked and tore away bloody pieces for the hatchling to promptly devour. Another ouroborite homed in on the freshly eviscerated corpse, followed by another – and soon, the hatchling was driven back by the ceaseless fighting, still carrying its kill's head in its jaws.
The Countess did her best to put the agitated shrieking and crawling out of her mind as she fixed her gaze on the ceiling. Well, of course it would turn out that way: Luring Ouroborous here by letting it eat the station's electrical systems was a fine way to cause a power outage. She should have thought of that sooner, she supposed.
At least this horrid place wouldn't be around much longer.
She drew back from the advancing swarms, lighting up in the darkness as she sparked in a thousand points on her body. Two legs shot out and sheared through ouroborites as she lifted her cannon arm – or rather, pulled it free of the tangled cloak of insects swarming across her – and began winding it up. As it lit up, ouroborites immediately scrambled over her spark vial, drawn to the light like, well... bugs. She shook a few off, shattering one or two against the floor, but more quickly arrived to mindlessly crawl across it. She clicked and sighed a small volume of her newly-synthesized “calm” scent. A few slid off of her as their muscles relaxed. She only really had to look like she was fighting, anwyay.
Holly's agitation gathered in her palm and manifested into a bright ball of electricity, which she hurled at the ouroborites skittering towards her. It sparked across the metal ground, sizzling insects and causing a few to burst. A few weak tendrils of electricity jolted from her body, frying two more without her noticing. Between the physical and emotional stress of fighting screeching insects in the dark and the mental and magical stress of throwing electric feelings at them, she staggered backwards. “Why is there a dumpster of meat in here?!” she demanded.
Her foot caught on a cable.
“That's a good story,” said the Countess. The intricate gears in her mouth ground and sparked, lighting up her face as she grinned in the darkness. “...but I don't think you've got the time to hear it.”
click
An electric current shot down the wires extending from her arm, snaking across the floor through the battlefield. When Holly shook off the cable, if fell onto an ouroborite, and immediately electrocuted it. She looked up at where the other end went just in time to see the corpses inside the dumpster burst into flames, and the insects crawling across it fall away in swathes as they were shocked to death on the metal surface.
And then the purple, conductive gel lining the ring began to light up.
...And then the stadium floodlights flicked back on, blinding Countess and Holly as Algernon's perpetual motion generator kicked in, supplying the stadium with a near-infinite amount of power through ruined electrical conduits. The floodlights lit up to full strength and then some, and a few shorted out or caught fire. A long-abandoned speaker started up again, blaring advertisements for the pristine spacefaring city of New Miranda, still under construction. The warning lights on the rink went on. Feedback shrieked through the loudspeakers, and Ouroborous shrieked back.
Countess tore the wires off her arm as she looked over her shoulder at the warning lights. One blew out as the rink's gravitational field powered back on after years of inactivity -
“...shit.”
...and then overloaded.
We can't control gravity. Gravity is a fundamental interaction of nature, and we don't know what causes it or how it works. We can't make a skating rink that controls gravity.
We can, however, make a skating rink that approximates that by repelling matter.
And as Countess learned, we can also break it.
First, the dust and purple gel floated into the air, coalescing into droplets. The insects followed, starting with the few in the center of the rink. A few shrieked in protest as they drifted into the air, but far more of them were just stunned, or in shock. Holly tried to run, but her feet left the floor. Countess scrabbled for the wire (read: lifeline) that she had let go of a moment ago as screws undid themselves and metal tiles shook loose. Holly had to duck and cover her head to avoid the dumpster flying overhead as the matter repulsion field began to power on faster and faster. The stadium seating was welded down, so it came apart at the seams instead, scattering rotted cushions and hinged armrests into the air, and the air rushing away from the rink hurled them against the walls. The lights flickered as the rink lit up brighter and brighter, its dull humming reaching a crescendo. The droplets of gel burst into flames, and the walls buckled, and the ceiling began to strip itself away until the air pressure quietly forced it to crack.
Air roared out of the hole in the stadium in all directions, causing nearby pressurized rooms and corridors to burst open. Giant slabs of metal violently tore themselves free from the walls and floor to crash against each other, and the matter-repelling plate slowly rose into the air – or rather, pushed the floor away from it, straining the thick cables that were rapidly feeding it with more and more power. Seeing her chance, Countess sprouted a knife from her hand and hurled it at the exposed cables, only to cover her face as the repulsion field hurled it right back. Ouroborites splattered against the walls, and the whole room split open along one wall, followed by another. With one final groan, the stadium finally burst apart, sending supports, plating and rows of seating hurtling through the lower levels of Las Orbitas as the overloaded repulsion plate similarly tore them apart. A sudden surge of air took Countess with it through a maintenance corridor to a residential area that had already been sealed off and partially dismantled. She frantically grabbed onto a passing row of seating, which promptly pulled her along as it smashed through the outer wall into -
As the remaining air shot away, it got very dark.
And dry.
And cold.
And quiet.
Countess soundlessly blinked her eyes as the outer hull of Las Orbitas came into focus. She absently let go of row of seating, and it drifted off in the opposite direction as she gently drifted away. The outside was unimaginably massive, stretching out into dull grey wings and sections for as far as she could see as it slowly, silently came apart at the seams. People lived here, once. Thousands of them. For years. And even looking out the observation decks – there, she was pretty sure she could see it out of the corner of her eye – she hadn't realized quite how big it all was.
...And now she was outside of it, was the next thing she realized. Pretty far outside.
Great.