E2 readers/writers, this is a series I have started, called Shattered Light, and would love to have you read my work. I know there are very talented writers here, so that is why I am posting these writeups (bits of the larger story at a time). I hope to receive some constructive criticism. Thank you.

On Federal Stellar Military Platform 259385.8, a man was sitting in a grey room. The chair he was sitting on was fixed to the ground, offering only a thin layer of padding, and the rest of the room was empty. Directly in front of the man was what seemed to be another grey wall, but in actuality was not. Behind the wall were five people: three men and two women. Their faces had as much life in them as did the walls. They watched the man in the room being interrogated by the Interrogational Artificial Intelligence.

The man on the chair did not display any signs of nervousness---the military-grade implants in his body hindered emotions from affecting his mental functions. These implants regulated and affected chemical balances in the brain, thereby acting as a sort of control.

The IAI’s voice was feminine, yet still devoid of any human element. “State your name, rank, and station.”

The soldier did not look around or anything of the sort. He looked straight forward at the wall in front of him. “Gan Nel. Lieutenant. Engine control.” His tone of voice had little humanness to it, like the IAI.

“Was your platform attacked?”


“Where were you at the beginning of the attack?”

“At my station on the control deck,” the soldier answered.

“Who was your commander?”

“Rameus Roth.”

“Describe the events leading up to the moment of attack.”

Nel sat without speaking a word for what seemed like an entire minute, but finally spoke. “I was supervising my crew, as usual, and there was no activity on half-light scanners. The plate suddenly began to shake violently." Nel paused. The word "plate" was usually used by stellarmen, but not around the wigs. He resumed, "The platform began to toss. We were hit hard. Our propulsion systems were pulverized, and we barely had any polaric charge left. Instability in the power systems was rapidly increasing. Tactical couldn’t tell exactly what had hit us, but it looked like a thermonuke strike. I---“

The IAI interjected, “State the reason why half-light scanners did not detect a locked missile.”

Nel’s eyebrow twitched. “I don’t know. I was engine control, not tactical.”

“Did tactical inform anyone of any activity?”

“No.” His tone of voice was taut, and the gleam in his eye betrayed his frustration. But then, his eyes relaxed. The military implants were doing their work.

“Continue,” the IAI said.

Nel continued in a drone-like voice. “Everything was collapsing. The strike was too heavy, and I knew we were finished. The plate continued to toss. Whoever attacked us, they were finishing us off with their kinetic weapons. After a few seconds, the commander issued an order to abandon ship. He saw that it was over. I ordered my subcrew to abandon post head for the escape pods. Running behind them, I saw my first engineer, Brooks, get decapitated by some sort of metal object flying across the hallway. My two engineers and I made it to an escape pod, but only barely. The corridors were all breaking and there was fire and decompression everywhere. We barely made it. I shouted at my subcrew to brace as I hit the eject button, and the escape pod launched.

"As we flew away from the plate, I saw our attackers. I couldn’t recognize their insignia, nor their ship design. They looked more like bits and pieces of different ships put together. I saw what they were doing. They weren’t trying to annihilate the plate, they were trying to break it apart. I think they were from a terrorist tribe, or maybe contractors. These guys were in a double-axis X-vector attack position, numbering about eight ships. Seconds after we had ejected, the plate broke up. There were bursts throughout the plate, mainly around the propulsion systems, but the last thing I remember is a radiator catapulting towards us and hitting the pod. We started to decompress, and I passed out.”

Nel’s eyes took on a troubled look as he stared down at the floor.

The voice of the IAI shattered the heavy silence. “Is this the end of your recollection?”

The only surviving crewman looked up at the wall in front of him, knowing that there were the wigs standing behind it, no doubt staring with cold, emotionless, and regulated eyes. “Where’s my subcrew?”

To be continued....