The Damned Voyage (tentative title): A Sci-fi/Thriller Play!

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What do you think of the play so far?

Poll ended at Wed Aug 14, 2013 10:25 pm

I'm really enjoying it, your characterisation makes this work well. I would go and see this play in a theatre.
0
No votes
I'm looking forward to seeing how the plot develops, and what exactly Caiden's past holds.
1
50%
I'm waiting for the action to happen, but I think it'll be good when it starts.
0
No votes
It's alright, but you'd need to edit it a ton to actually get it to the stage.
0
No votes
I really don't like plays full stop. Sorry.
1
50%
It's naff, truth be told.
0
No votes
 
Total votes: 2

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The Damned Voyage (tentative title): A Sci-fi/Thriller Play!

Post by SkyGinge » Wed Jul 31, 2013 10:25 pm

Ok, so this is a major project I started working on in February whilst acting in or schools production of We Will Rock You and generally hating my time in practise. I was thinkingof interesting ways that I could use the stage and this developed. Then exams happened and I've only just started up work on this again. I really like what I've done so far and am actualy quite a bit further in than this. I'll be posting sections as I finish editting through them. I hope you enjoy.

And yes, this is a playscript. It's not that I'm lazy, it's purposely written as a playscript as that is what I want to do for a living. Also note that most of the characters in this opening section dont reappear in the entire story and serve only to introduce the play and key ideas. I've also chosen to not do it in a scene format as everything sort of links together. Feedback is appreciated, as well as remarks on what you like about it and questions on why I have chosen to do certain things. So, enjoy the show!

Act 1
(The stage is blacked out. An announcement rings out through the darkness.)
Isabelle: Attention all spaceship crew! This is Supervisor Flonville speaking. Captain Morse has an announcement for you. For those of you who haven’t already twigged, today is our first anniversary as the crew of the Spycraft. Hooray! I’d love to crack out the party balloons, but sadly we have none. Yes, I can hear your disappointment Mr Harmer. Anyhow, could every available crew member please make their way to the control room. For once, you are all off duty, and if that’s not something to celebrate, then I don’t know what is. Cheers.
(Slowly, the lights come up to reveal the simple Spycraft control room - the back of the stage is raised with an opening at the back which leads to the communications room. At the front left is a lower section with a complicated set of controls, used for piloting the ship. There are a couple of computer screens and futuristic looking speakers on the wall on the back, but other than that, the room is sparsely decorated, save for three chairs laid out at the control panel. On one of the chairs, sits Chloe Danielson. She is young, aged 22, and frail looking, with long brown hair and simple petite features. She wears a black top and trousers which are lined with a blue rim - her uniform on the ship. She has a childs demeanour, slouching down on her stool and staring at the screen like a young teen desperately trying to discover what has caused her social network to crash. Indeed, she is in deep concentration over what to press on the control panel, although what she is doing is actually quite a simple task. A faint whirring sound is heard, that of an offstage door, as Professor Brianna Tate enters the room. She has short brown hair and is older and taller than the other girl, aged 34. She wear an identical uniform, but her clothes are lined with an orange rim instead. She brings with her an air of peace, maturity and tranquillity.)
Brianna: (waving) Morning Clo.
(The other woman turns around and instantly breaks into a childish grin.)
Chloe: Oh, good morning Professor Tate!
Brianna: (not agitated) Oh please, you know I don’t like you calling me by my title. It’s far too formal for me.
Chloe: Sorry Brianna.
Brianna: (smiling) Oh, you don’t have to be, it’s no major mistake. You still working?
Chloe: (somewhat sulkily) I have to be. I gotta set the ship to orbit the planet Squarniaus, whatever that is. For such a little task, it’s pretty long winded. And complex. You’d better leave me to concentrate.
Brianna: (nodding) Right, yes, I wouldn’t want to disturb you.
(Brianna smiles again, which seems to be like a habit to her even though she is portraying genuine emotion, and sits down on the chair nearest to the centre of the room. For a moment, there is an awkward silence in which Chloe struggles to figure out what to do, and Brianna attempts to peak at what she is doing, clearly understanding the control panel better than the younger girl.)
Brianna: (helpfully) Push the green switch, and then pull on that there lever.
Chloe: (scowling) Hey, it’s my job, I know what I’m doing!
(Brianna pulls a knowing expression. Chloe waits until she is sure that Brianna isn’t looking, and then proceeds to do exactly as the professor has told her to, smiling as something clicks to life on her invisible screens. Quietly, Easten Millet, 43, enters. He is tall and dark haired, and instantaneously brings an enigmatic feel to the room. His expression is almost always serious and thoughtful, and his uniform is lined with a green rim. Silently, he leans gently against the far wall, unnoticed by Chloe and only noticed by Brianna because she has learnt to recognise his presence.)
Brianna: Morning, Easten.
Easten: (looking up) Is it? Is it really morning? It could be evening or afternoon, for all we know. We are in a spaceship after all.
Brianna: (over dramatising matters for comedy value) Well yes, true, true. But don’t say it like it’s a bad thing! We are in the Spycraft! A unique space vessel, sent to explore the outer reaches of the universe!
Easten: Well, that’s one way to put it. Stuck in a flying metal box is another.
Brianna: Hmm, but an adventurous metal flying box at least, hey?
Easten: (starting to pace) Have you ever wondered what exactly it is we’re doing here?
Brianna: (light-hearted) Uh, exploring the outer reaches of the universe? That is what I just said, East.
Easten: (smiling slightly) But what for, exactly? What is our purpose here?
Brianna: Fun? Sightseeing? Intergalactic tourism?
Easten: (breaking into a proper grin) Thank goodness we have you here, Professor Tate. Without your light-hearted approach to life I think we’d all die of boredom.
Brianna: (jokily) Then maybe if we all started dying then you’d have more to do, Dr Millet.
Easten: Hmm. But if it were death we were up against then my medical skills would be beyond usage. And I daren’t think of the circumstances that would cause such an outburst of casualties.
Brianna: Hmm, that’s a good thought. Come to think of it, I suppose none of us are needed that much really. We often have time to pop out of our departments to visit each other and have a quick chat. I guess for that we can thank Supervisor Flonville for being so lax with us.
Chloe: (suddenly) Hey, my job is definitely needed!
Brianna: (not at all patronising) Ok, with Clo as the exception. You probably do the most important job, driving us around in this dark wilderness.
Chloe: Thanks Professor Tate!
Easten: (thoughtfully) Actually, it depends how you look at it. You could say that Mr Harmer is the most important crew member, as if he didn’t constantly monitor the engines then the ship would just stop working and then goodness knows what would become of us all.
Brianna: Oh yes, I wonder where the engineer’s got to. Maybe he caught the eye of his own reflection in one of the windows. That’d keep him occupied long enough for us to travel all the way to Earth and back!
Easten: (breathing in) Yes, well let’s hope so.
Chloe: (rolling her eyes) I think I can sense his ego approaching.
(To confirm Chloe‘s suspicions, in long slightly arrogant strides arrives engineer Reggie Harmer, aged 45. Like Easten, he is tall and skinny, but his hair is long, wild and an odd browny-red colour. Each and every emotion that he feels is displayed on his bony face with heaps of melodramatic oomph. He is fairly skinny, and his uniform, lined with a yellow rim, is somewhat dusty and dirty due to the engines that he tenderly fathers. He looks down at the others from his lofty heights as if he is their superior.)
Harmer: (muttering to himself) Party balloons… (loudly, to the others) Well hello there, friends!
Chloe: (It is clear that she dislikes him, with sarcasm) Friends? You got that wrong.
Harmer: (patronising) Now, now, Miss Danielson, there’s no reason to be so immature about every single matter concerning myself. The only deed I have done is entering the control room, as requested from the second in command. If anybody here can find fault in that, I’ll treat them to a rapturous applause.
Chloe: You’re a fault, you big-headed loser.
Reggie: (quickly tiring of the argument) And you need to focus on your piloting, my dear. I’m sure you’d thoroughly detest becoming a mass murderer should you overcook our flight and crash us horrifically into yonder planet.
Brianna: Whoa, calm it guys. Less talk about death please, this is supposed to be a happy day! This is the first anniversary of our time on the spaceship!
Harmer: Thanks to me…
Brianna: No, thanks to all of us! We’re a team, all of us, and we’ve been managed to keep up the good work for all of this time. So why stop and argue now?
Harmer: A reasonable point well made, Professor. Therefore, I shall proceed to reminisce over our previous times together in a short meditative session.
Chloe: (a short pause, and then somewhat quietly) Using long words doesn’t make you sound clever you know…
Easten: (wearily) Here we go again…
(Perfectly timed, Isabelle Flonville, the supervisor heard in the announcement, enters from the back. She is fairly short and young, aged 26, and her uniform is lined with a silver rim. She has also been gifted in that she is quite pretty, with a short nose, inquisitive eyes and beautifully arranged long chestnut hair. She comes across as quite confident and positive, and although she doesn’t exactly emanate authority, the other crew members immediately stop their bickering and acknowledge her presence. Even Reggie is seen to instantly respect her, and he gallantly strides up to her and warmly holds out his hand.)
Harmer: (smiling) Supervisor Flonville, happy number 365! Good dig about the balloons, bally shame that Earth control forgot to provide us with ‘em.
Isabelle: (shaking his hand) Cheers Reg, and congratulations for keeping our engines shipshape for all this time.
Brianna: Issy, good to see you. Let’s hope for many more enjoyable years, hey?
Isabelle: (the two are clearly close friends) Yeah! And congratulations to you too, East and Clo. We really couldn’t do it without you.
Easten: (quietly content) Oh no, the pleasure’s all ours.
Chloe: (questioning) Will the captain be joining us?
Isabelle: (unsure) Erm, I think so.
Harmer: (surprised) Well, strap me to the table and pelt me with rabbits, the captain is actually coming out of his room?
Isabelle: (she knows the answer full well) Why are you so surprised?
Harmer: (snorting) Is that a rhetorical question? The captain never comes out of there, his eternal cave of secrecy! He has the role of someone with omnipotent control over us, somebody who should strive to be a recognisable leader and strong figure, and yet he’s only graced my field of vision eleven times since our first day! Eleven!
Chloe: (wearily) You were actually sad enough to count?
Harmer: (ignoring her) You see, it is quite clear that his presence is missed. You know us all by nickname, Supervisor Flonville, and treat us like companions, not work partners. Yet we’d follow you to the Poseidon’s depths and back if you were to order us to.
Isabelle: Well, I’m just doing my job. (protectively) And at the end of the day, it’s the captain’s decision as to what he does and what he doesn’t do.
Harmer: Yes, well, it would be nice if just for once he were to do something for the good of all of us, that being showing himself!
(As he finished speaking, Captain Caiden Morse emerges from the background and silence prevails. The captain, his uniform lined with a golden rim, is 32, but looks more like he’s in his late 40’s solely through his body language. He is a broken man, average sized and bulkily built, strong and once handsome. However, his eyes are two voids of darkness and pain and he almost has to drag himself from the doorway. The crew watch him, looking slightly scared and concerned as he treks slowly to the centre of the room. Finally he stops, and clears his throat. He is suddenly more upbeat in posture, and smiles reassuringly, speaking confidently and with power. However, the true darkness still shines through his dull eyes.)
Caiden: Well, you made it, huh. Over a year travelling in a transport tube and now a year aboard the ship itself. And nice work you’ve done here too. (grinning cheekily) I would say something motivational but quite frankly I suck at speeches. Just keep on doin’ what you’re doin’ and we’ll all be fine. We’ve made a fair bit of progress for our home planet, scanned a couple of planets and whatnot. And so we’ve relayed valuable information back to Earth. We’re probably heroes. You’re probably heroes. So you go and celebrate like the heroes you are. Suit yourself, have a ball. (He stops, as if he is about to say something a little more serious, but soon changes his mind.) Have a good day. I’ve got stuff to do.
(And he makes his way back to the back with more power than before. The rest of the crew smile gently, although Isabelle looks a little nervous and manages to hide it well. Suddenly, he turns, and strolls down towards the front, squinting into the distance.)
Caiden: That’s Squarniaus, right?
Chloe: (nodding enthusiastically) That’s right sir. Are we going down to the surface tomorrow?
Caiden: (Thinking hard, pause) No. That’ll be all.
(And he strolls off. The crew sit in silence for a while, until…)
Harmer: (musing) What a great mystery.
Brianna: What is?
Harmer: Him, Captain Morse. What could do that to a man, hey? What could make him spend all his days locked away in that office of his?
(Isabelle is pretending not to listen, but is actually very interested in the conversation topic.)
Chloe: Maybe that’s just what he’s like. Maybe he was brought up to be a loner.
Harmer: But don’t you think it’s just a little, well… perplexing? His mannerisms and such. Why, I suppose one of these days I shall play detective and make large strides into solving him! (getting lost in his fantasies) Yes, there will never be a case left unsolved for Detective Reggie Harmer!
Brianna: Well, I guess we’ll never know, and it’s not in our rights to presume and judge. If he wanted to tell us why he’s such a solitude seeker then he’s had every opportunity to do so. But he hasn’t and, as his crew, I think we should be respectful to our superior and leave him to himself.
Harmer: (impressed) A very rational thought, Professor Tate. Perhaps one day we could have a logical debate over a meal or something of the sort. You are suddenly sounding like a very interesting woman to get to know.
Brianna: (evasively) Well actually, I’m busy for a while. I have a lot of science… things to do.
Harmer: (a little disappointed) Very well. But regardless of your excellent point, I am still very curious to hear Mr Morse’s story.
(They all think in silence for a moment, then Easten pipes up.)
Easten: In all honesty, I have had similar suspicions to you before. I suppose we never speak about the Captain because we never get to see him, but I’ve always found him to be a little odd in our rare encounters.
Harmer: (pouncing on him) Why, do you have some earth shattering proof?
Easten: (moving away awkwardly) Not exactly. Only… when I did the medical tests on the crew this year, he was very… evasive. Like he was trying to hide something.
Chloe: (tired) Well, it’s his life, so maybe you should let him do as he wants.
Easten: Yes, well, that’s what I did. I still thought it strange however, even though I chose to not intervene.
Chloe: Some people just don’t like talking about their histories. Like yourself, Dr Millet.
Easten: (anxiously) Yes, if we could change the subject please…
Harmer: Yes, as interesting as it would be to interrogate you, and after being reminded of that juicy information from Miss Danielson over here I full well intend to add you to Detective Harmer’s mystery list…
Easten: (sighing) Oh Lord…
Harmer: The main question still remains focused on the captain.
Isabelle: Erm, sorry to break up the discussion, but you guys are supposed to go down to the refectory for some special meal that Cook’s preparing for you. Something of an anniversary treat, if you like.
Chloe: Oh, well, I’d best stay here still. I got a bit more work to do on setting the ship into orbit.
Isabelle: (forceful) No, it’s alright Clo, I’ll finish off here. Captain’s orders that you go now. We have important stuff to do in here.
Brianna: (getting up) Well, if it’s from the captain then we should probably get going. Come along guys, lets go and enjoy a great meal together!
Isabelle: Actually, Brianna, could you stay here for a second please, I need a little help with something.
Harmer: (reluctantly leaving) Aha! You command us to leave but then proceed call your cohort back? Me thinks this is a conspiracy! Another case for Detective Har…
Chloe: (already off stage) Oh my gosh, Mr Harmer, there’s no need to be so melodramatic about everything…
Harmer: (off stage, fading, starting an argument) And there’s no need for you to act like a angsty pre-teen 24/7…
(Once they are out of earshot, the other three remain stood awkwardly in the control room, Easten in the doorway.)
Isabelle: (indicating to the controls) Could somebody please…
Brianna: (setting the ship into orbit) I’ll do it.
(She presses buttons with much more confidence and knowledge than Chloe had. The ship bumps slightly as they settle into orbit.)
Brianna: There you go.
Easten: (musing) I always wondered why Earth Control chose somebody with a lack of piloting knowledge to be in control of flying such an important vessel. The mind boggles.
Brianna: It sure does. See you, Easten.
Easten: (nodding as he leaves) And you, Brianna.
Brianna: (when he has gone) So, what do you need me for? You work yourself silly sometimes Issy, so I’m certainly happy to help with anything you want me to do.
Isabelle: Thanks Bri. Well, the thing is, I’ve been planning something special for the captain. None of you lot know it, but he actually puts so much work into making this ship work as it should, and I think he deserves to be rewarded. I’ve managed to get a table from the refectory and Cook’s making him something meaty. That’s what men like, right?
Brianna: Wow, you’ve put a lot of thought into this.
Isabelle: (nodding) The best deserve the best.
Brianna: I couldn’t agree more. I only wish that he would come out more often so that us lot can get to know him like you do. He sounds like a wonderful man, the way you describe him to me.
Isabelle: He is, believe me. Well, come on then. Knowing him, he probably won’t come out of there until tonight. I sure wish I knew what he does in there all the time. Anyhow, once we’ve finished getting set up, can you make sure that the crew stay away from the room? I want it to be a private celebration.
Brianna: Sure thing. Anything for my best friend!
Isabelle: (smiling tenderly) I literally can’t thank you enough. There’s nobody else I’ve ever met who’s been quite as selfless as you Bri.
Brianna: Gosh, thanks for the compliments. It’s genuinely no problem. So, what do you say we get to work and make sure this is the best experience the Captain will ever get, hey?

(more to come probably tomorrow)
Last edited by SkyGinge on Tue Aug 27, 2013 8:22 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Re: The Damned Voyage (tentative title): A Sci-fi/Thriller P

Post by Snowy » Thu Aug 01, 2013 12:37 am

Sorry, I am not a big fan of 'plays'. I might give it a chance though.
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Re: The Damned Voyage (tentative title): A Sci-fi/Thriller P

Post by SkyGinge » Thu Aug 01, 2013 8:19 am

Wait, so have you actually read it or not? Also you read my Virus play and said it was gold so that's a little contradictory but whatever.
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Re: The Damned Voyage (tentative title): A Sci-fi/Thriller P

Post by Snowy » Thu Aug 01, 2013 12:49 pm

Well yes, I read it. But I guess I'll give this play a chance since it made me chuckle in the first line of dialog.
SkyGinge wrote:Isabelle: Attention all spaceship crew! This is Supervisor Flonville speaking. Captain Morse has an announcement for you. For those of you who haven’t already twigged, today is our first anniversary as the crew of the Spycraft. Hooray! I’d love to crack out the party balloons, but sadly we have none. Yes, I can hear your disappointment Mr Harmer. Anyhow, could every available crew member please make their way to the control room. For once, you are all off duty, and if that’s not something to celebrate, then I don’t know what is. Cheers.
Last edited by Snowy on Thu Aug 01, 2013 3:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Damned Voyage (tentative title): A Sci-fi/Thriller P

Post by SkyGinge » Thu Aug 01, 2013 3:21 pm

Haha, cheers Snowy. Things get pretty dark for the second act, so I hope you stick with things to enjoy the greater drama that unfolds later.
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Re: The Damned Voyage (tentative title): A Sci-fi/Thriller P

Post by SkyGinge » Thu Aug 01, 2013 9:46 pm

Apologies for for the double post. Just a quick announcement for those, if any, who are following this script (if you are then just any old comment acknowledging that you're reading it would be great): the next part will most likely be up tomorrow. I just need to finish editing through it so that I feel it is at the same standard as the first bit. Quite a bit of it needed a large overhaul and I didn't get it done today because I wanted to continue writing new material further along.

For those who are interested, this is going to be a very long play. I imagine, performed, it would take about 3hrs. The first and longer of the two acts mainly introduced the audience to the characters, the situation and the world, only to twist that around entirely with a whole sequence of shock reveals at the end. The second act is more action filled. I hope you all stay on for the full ride.
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Re: The Damned Voyage (tentative title): A Sci-fi/Thriller P

Post by SkyGinge » Fri Aug 02, 2013 9:22 pm

Ack, Triple post. I bring the next part. I don't think it's quite as succinct as the first bit but I'm still fairly happy with it. As always, please leave a comment if you've read and enjoyed it. There certainly hasn't been this amount of views just between Snowy and myself. Thank youuuu~


(Brief blackout, in which a table is set out into the middle of the stage, with two comfortable chairs, plates and cutlery set out and a chicken meal laid out on each plate. As the lights return on, Isabelle is now in a pretty, sparkly dress. Nervously, she checks her watch.)
Isabelle: Wouldn’t it be funny if he never came out of there, if he stayed in there like a hermit doing his important tasks and the like? I really do wonder why he spends all of his time in secret seclusion, I’m no wiser than the others. But there are a few things that I do know about him for sure: that he’s a noble, honourable man and that he puts in so much effort into keeping everything shipshape. And that alone is enough to reel me in. (more subdued) Maybe though, just for once, he could come out and socialise. Maybe after… after this he’ll have more confidence. I just hope my efforts aren’t in vain. I hope he does believe in love.
Caiden: (approaching) Isabelle, there’s just a couple of little things I need you to do in there, then you go off and enjoy yourself.
(Isabelle fidgets nervously as Caiden appears at the back, looking up at the end of his sentence to see the table. Pause.)
Caiden: What’s all this?
Isabelle: (nervously) It’s a table, sir.
Caiden: I noticed. (pause) Why is it here, though?
Isabelle: I brought it here.
Caiden: That’s nice for you. Any reason why, or you just have a weird habit of moving tables?
Isabelle: This is all here for you, sir. I set it all up for you.
Caiden: (pokerfaced) Right. That’s very sweet of you.
(Caiden turns off to face the other way, not quite sure what to say. Isabelle struggles with herself and eventually pipes up the courage to speak to him.)
Isabelle: (abruptly) Sir. (pause) I, erm, was wondering if you wanted to, err, go out with me.
Caiden: (smiling wryly) Go out where? We’re in a spaceship, if you didn’t realise.
Isabelle: (slightly irritated) I meant that, sir, if you’d appreciate that it’s taking me a lot of effort to say this, I… love you.
Caiden: (still pokerfaced) Do you now.
(Caiden turns and examines the food.)
Caiden: What’s this?
Isabelle: Some kind of chicken casserole, cook’s speciality.
Caiden: I hate chicken. (looking up and smiling softly) You see, I bet you thought you knew me, didn’t you? I bet you thought because you’re the only one to see me that you have some kind of inside story on the Captain, hey. Well, you’ve got a long trek left, my friend.
(There is a pause, and Isabelle digests the situation somewhat. She feels that all her effort shouldn’t have gone to waste, and stays, a little frustrated, but still strong as usual, pressing him on.)
Isabelle: So what is that then, a yes? A no? Those are the usual answers to my question. Unless you are just socially inadequate.
Caiden: (after a hoarse laugh) Don’t you get it? No, of course you don’t. You haven’t seen the terrible things that trouble my mind. You haven’t felt the pain and the suffering I’ve been through. You’ll never understand, my friend, so don’t you dare think you have a hope of trying to.
Isabelle: (bluntly) Why?
Caiden: (A little perplexed) What d’you mean “why”?
Isabelle: (pacing, getting into a rage) Well, you know what, it would be really nice if just for once, you would explain yourself. You spend all of your time looked away in that room, staring into the distance. It’s not just as if someone’s walked over your grave, it’s more like they’ve gone and cemented themselves to it! You never greet the group like a captain should, you don’t order us about like a leader should. In fact, I do almost everything for you! For this last year, I’ve worked my socks off doing most of your job because I respected that there’s something big that you’re not telling us, and for what? For you to remain an enigmatic idiot, that’s what! For you to send us flying around galaxies and solar systems just to beam up a couple of rocks and leave the whole bleeding planet unexplored! What for? I see that smile of yours, and you seem to think that pretending to be happy will make everything better, but oh no. I can see through your guise. You see, your eyes tell another story. They’re like two tiny black holes, and staring into them is like falling into a bottomless pit. You see, me and the crew finally want answers, and don’t you think we kinda deserve them?
(There is a pause as Caiden reflects on what she has said. Isabelle retreats a little, perhaps surprised at her outburst, but Caiden is actually impressed.)
Caiden: (compromising) It’s a long story.
Isabelle: We’ve a long time.
(There is yet another pause, and this time, Caiden turns to face her, and smiles, a true smile. Although he is dreading telling her story, part of him really wants to get him out, and he relaxes somewhat.)
Caiden: Sit down then.
Isabelle: (a little surprised) Whoa, is this you actually explaining yourself? Is this Captain Morse finally telling his story.
Caiden: (sarcasm) No, I’m just want you to sit down so that I can run out of the room, because you know, that “enigmatic idiot” inside of me is actually planning his grand escape right this second. Oh Supervisor Flonville, you’ve seen through my plans.
Isabelle: (a little bashfully, slightly impatient) If it’s such a long story, then why are you stalling for time?
(They both laugh a little, then the lights drop to a spotlight on Caiden as the scene is rearranged.)
Caiden: Right, well, I’m sorry if I’m a little unclear. You must understand that I’ve never told the story like this to anyone before…
Isabelle: But I’m guessing you’ve gone over and over it in your head for the whole last year, right?
Caiden: You read my mind Supervisor Flonville. Perhaps you do know me better than you thought. But if you’d care not to interrupt, please.
Isabelle: Alright.
Caiden: Good.
(Isabelle disappears into the shadows, and Caiden starts his tale.)
Caiden: Well, the story begins seven years ago, when I arrived much as you did last year, in a transportation capsule from Earth Control. I guess you could say nine years if you count the time I did in space training at the Earth Control University of Space Exploration. You could also say that I was pretty lucky. I had been walking home from my evening job when they first approached me. The job was nothing special: I was a store clerk, and I can say in full truth that I hated that damn job. It was the dullest thing I ever did, and when they came to me in their smart, secretive suits and darkened shades, telling me that they had been watching me and thought me suitable for some special course, I had to pinch myself to convince myself that I weren‘t dreaming. But clearly I wasn’t, and they whisked me away to the ECUSE. You remember their corny slogan, don’t you?
Isabelle: (reciting, off stage) “There’s no excuse for poor work at ECUSE.“
Caiden: That’s the one. Cripes, it makes me cringe just hearing it. From what I know, their odd little lifestyle is still the same now as it was back then. In order to keep their operations a secret, they require absolutely no contact with the outside world. So the whole experience had the equivalent feeling of an adult boarding school bubble, grown men and woman studying the essentials of space in our small groups, each promised an exciting task in the great black wilderness above. It felt surreal, like we were at a school for future heroes; we were all Batmen and Wonderwomen in training. But eventually, with that infamous final test, we blossomed into our set roles for the last month, and were loaded into our transportation capsules. I haven’t bothered to ask you lot if it’s still the same nowadays, but back then it meant being in suspended animation for a year, frozen inside a small tube sent on the perfect trajectory to reach the spaceship it was destined for, which of course was already too far out to pull back to Earth. The science behind these things is sadly beyond me, with those little programmed micro-organisms tending to your inanimate body, keeping you alive as you hurtle through space at the speed of light. The wonders of modern technology, hey? We only had I-Pads back in the day. Anyhow, continuing on, when I finally woke up after a year of sleep, which felt mighty refreshing let me tell you, I felt ready, a little excited as I changed into our now familiar uniform. Excitement wasn’t a feeling I was used to, although admittedly I hadn’t felt much at all in over a year. Finally I would meet my fellow crewmates, all from separate sections of the university, and finally we could get some action! And so I headed up to the control room, the same control room that we’re in this very minute, although a little more glossier, I think. Maybe that’s just how I remember it. I was a little annoyed to find that I was the last to get there, but I guess they should’ve known that I sleep heavy. In that moment, I briefly scanned the room, searching for a friendly face. My search didn’t last long, and I found my target.
(The lights shine on to reveal the control room again, but this time there are seven chairs laid out stage right, six of them with the other crew members sat on, waiting in their own unique way, talking amongst themselves. From the other side enters a younger Caiden, 25, now donned in a silver lined uniform, with a spring in his step and a somewhat arrogant air around him. The darkness seen before is completely gone, and he is seen to be energetic, fun and an attention magnet. He quickly eyes the empty seat and sits down, next to Professor Neville Tanner, 24, a young and somewhat jittery scientist. He wears a uniform with an orange rim, and is sat a little awkwardly. He emanates happiness and friendliness, despite his somewhat odd appearance and mannerisms. He occasionally has random muscles spasms that make him a little laughable.)
Caiden: Hey, I’m just going to sit down here, if that’s ok.
Neville: (a little startled) Oh yes, please, feel free.
Caiden: (sitting down, referring to the uniforms) We’re a right multicoloured bunch, aren’t we?
Neville: Yes. I think it must i-indicate rank, or role on the ship. Or perhaps I maybe I just used to watch far too many sci-fi films.
Caiden: Ah well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough. I’m the ships “supervisor“, apparently. I get the impression from my training that I’ve got something of a second in command type of job. It’s kinda odd that they don’t tell you beforehand, but hey ho. What are you doing here?
Neville: Taken literally? Sitting on a chair. (laughing nervously) Eheh… taken literally of course. I’m the ships resident scientist. I’m not entirely sure why a ship like this needs a science department, but there we go, we’re all here now.
Caiden: Well, you can reverse the thrusters on your transportation capsule and fly yourself back to Earth if you’d like.
Neville: You know what, actually I’d rather not.
(The pair laugh. Slowly, from the back of the stage, the captain’s room, enters Clayton Alloway, 48, the ships captain, a tall, bulky man with a solemn expression that never seems to leave his face. His gold lined uniform and powerful presence gives him a somewhat regal feel, and the hubbub soon dies away. He speaks in a deep, simple tone.)
Clayton: Welcome to the Spycraft, a unique space vessel amongst many similar exploratory ships. As you’ve probably guessed, I’m your captain, Captain Clayton Alloway. What we do here is very simple: we find a planet, we scan it for suitability, we may explore, collect samples and what not, we send our findings back to Earth Control, and then we go off and repeat the process. Obviously you are all doing your own individual jobs, I understand that for the most of the part you understand what you are supposed to be doing. (sighs) You lucky bunch are going to be exploring outer space for probably the rest of your lives now, so you’d better get used to your surroundings. Therefore, that’s what you’re going to do now - go off to your working environment, and then I’ll call you all to the refectory to meet and greet and whatever you kids do these days. Maps can be found on the control desk, so you head off now like you’re told and I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. Dismissed!
(Clayton stands there patiently, but the group is still waiting for him to say something more. He makes a shooing gesture with his hands and then the chatter recommences.)
Neville: (as he and Caiden head to the desk) Well, I guess we’ll see each other later in the refectory.
Caiden: Hey, don’t get ahead of yourself. I may have to come and “supervise” the science department in a bit.
Neville: Oh please do. Perhaps I can experiment on you.
Caiden: On second thought, I’ll go and supervise the engine rooms and maybe “accidentally” burn myself to death at the same time.
Neville: (laughs) Oh no, that would be rather to gruesome for my tastes. (musing) Although maybe I could do some analysis on your charred remains.
Caiden: Hey, now that’s too far!
(They have now reached the front of the queue, and almost everybody has filed out of the room. Neville attempts to pick up the map, but his arm spasms slightly and he throws it wildly to the floor.)
Neville: Oh bother.
Caiden: (he finds it all hilarious, in near hysterics) What the heck was that? (calming down slightly) Don’t you worry, I’ll get it for you.
(Caiden struts to the paper and leans to pick it up, but as he is about to extend his arm, a slender hand snatches it from the ground. The owner of the hand gives it back to Neville. She is Sabrina Alden, 26 years old, tall and thin, with the figure of a model. She is quite naturally beautiful, with deep, intoxicating eyes, a long nose and a quaint, somewhat edgy smirk. Her long, jet black hair falls a little wildly down the back of her uniform, lined with a green rim. She comes across as intelligent, confident and inpatient, but thoroughly likable, and she instantly catches Caiden’s attention.)
Sabrina: Too slow, pal.
(Sabrina hands the map to Neville, and it is clear that they recognise each other as close friends.)
Neville: Thank you, Sabrina. (to Caiden) This is Sabrina Alden, an old friend of mine.
Caiden: (with an eyebrow raised) You two know each other? That’s some coincidence.
Sabrina: Yup. And I’m the doctor of this ship, so if you ever feel ill or hurt yourself you’ll have to come to me.
Caiden: (joking) Oh Doctor, I think I’m gonna die, can you check me over please?
Sabrina: (smirking) If you’re going to die then I’m not going to be able to help you. Not even a medic can cure death, stupid.
Caiden: The name’s Caiden Morse, not Stupid Morse. My parents would have had to have had one screwed up sense of humour to call me stupid.
Sabrina: (joking, as she leaves) Caiden, stupid. I prefer the latter. (She exits)
Caiden: Dang, she’s fast.
Neville: Or maybe you’re just slow.
Caiden: Shut it, Professor Map-dropper, you’ve ruined my self esteem enough today thanks very much! (pause) What’s your name anyways?
Neville: Neville. Neville Tanner.
Caiden: (nodding) Cool name.
Neville: You flatter me. (pause in realisation) You were joking, weren’t you?
Caiden: (nods.) Aha, go on then Nev, go and do sciency stuff.
Neville: (as he leaves, muttering to himself) Sciency stuff…
(Caiden sighs as he leaves, thinking to himself for a moment, and then turns and nearly jumps out of his skin - he is not alone. Sat at the control desk chair is a short women, Talia Wren, 28. She is quite innocent and approachable, with short black hair and wide eyes, donned in the blue rimmed uniform of a pilot. She is currently hard at work looking through the various settings on the desk. She turns around to see Caiden in his surprised state.)
Talia: Are you alright?
Caiden: Heck women, you made my jump out of my skin! How did you get there so silently?
Talia: (grinning) I have no idea!
Caiden: Maybe you’re a secret ninja, so secret that even you don’t know you’re a ninja.
Talia: Maybe.
Caiden: What are you doing here then?
Talia: Checking through my equipment! I’m the ships pilot, you see.
Caiden: I noticed. Looks pretty complex.
Talia: It is, but not so much that I can’t have fun with it.
Caiden: Cool beans.
(Clayton enters from the back, slowly and calmly as always.)
Clayton: Morse.
(The pair turn around and salute.)
Caiden: Sir!
Clayton: (waving their hands away) Oh please, don’t flatter me.
Caiden: (putting his hand down swiftly) Sorry, captain.
Clayton: It’s fine. I presume that you’re not entirely sure as to what you’re supposed to do, correct?
Caiden: Correct as a cracker, captain.
Clayton: I’ll explain. You, Morse, are primarily my eyes and ears on this ship. You announce every message I need announce, you monitor the crew, and finally you also carry out various tasks on the ship. You’re the person on this ship who will see me the most, and will carry the crew’s opinion directly to me. You understand?
Caiden: Yes I do.
Clayton: (chuckling) For a second there, I thought you were deaf.
Caiden: (puzzled) I’m not.
Clayton: (sighs) And that was supposed to be a joke. You know, something a little funny.
Caiden: Oh. (swiftly moving on) So basically I go around and talk to the crew, keep them happy and act as their number one guy?
Clayton: Sounds about right. And it seems you have already started with Doctor Alden and Professor Tanner.
Talia: (smiling warmly) I’m Talia Wren, just so you know. I guess you can add me to that list.
Clayton: So you go off and get to know the crew now!
Caiden: I get to socialise non-stop for my entire job? Sweet!
(Caiden performs a crazy victory dance, much to the amusement of the other two.)
Clayton: (unsure) Right. I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that again, I’d prefer to be kept under the illusion that my crew are all sane. Talia, find yourself an initial set up that best suits your style, I’ve had to keep this thing safe for a while so it may take a fair bit of configuring.
Talia: Ok, will do.
Clayton: Good. Do me proud, you two.
(Clayton exits. Talia and Caiden sigh in relief.)
Caiden: And there goes a huge weight from our shoulders.
Talia: Tell me about it, I feel like a bird that’s just been let out of its cage.
Caiden: But he’s not too bad. I don’t know why we felt like that around him.
Talia: Well, we’ve got the rest of the year to find it out so there’s no hurry. Heck, we could be here for the rest of our lives, so let’s just look to the future and take every day as it comes.
Caiden: (nodding) Sounds like a plan. (starting to leave, grabbing a map) And on that bombshell, I have people to “supervise”!
Talia: Alright, take care.
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Re: The Damned Voyage (tentative title): A Sci-fi/Thriller P

Post by SkyGinge » Tue Aug 27, 2013 8:20 pm

Just for if anybody's interested, I'm back working on this again and should hopefully have another part up within the nest few days.
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Re: The Damned Voyage (tentative title): A Sci-fi/Thriller P

Post by SkyGinge » Thu Aug 29, 2013 9:04 pm

The next part is here! (I was silly and forgot to post it yesterday) As always, please leave a comment if you've read it, I really appreciate any feedback that you can give me and I hope you enjoy the section.


(The lights go down as Caiden exits, and once again, he steps into the spotlight to recount his tale.)
Caiden: And so that was that, my first impressions of the ship and crew. There’s Neville, pretty fly but a little awkward, bless him; Talia, pretty sweet; Clayton, all solemn and serious. And then Miss Sabrina Alden. I don’t know what it was about her exactly, but she made me want to speak to her again. I knew exactly who I was going to visit first in my supervising tour. So, familiarising myself with the map, I began to travel to the medical bay, intrigued by this women. Sabrina. Sabrina. It’s an odd name, isn’t it? Then again, coming from someone called Caiden… anyway, on my way I suddenly stopped, awestruck by a sudden, awe-inspiring view that seemed to leap out through the ships windows towards me.
(The backdrop is illuminated, the stage having been cleared ready to be set up for the infirmary, to show outer space, with a couple of nearby planets glistening in red sunlight and millions of stars twinkling in the background of the worlds canvas. Caiden turns.)
Caiden: And for the first time, I saw it: outer space, overpowering, overwhelming, and overly massive. The dark void that it is seemed to suck the life out of me and in turn refill it with awe of just how wonderful our universe is, and just how beautiful too. It made a major impact: I stopped thinking about how I’d be stuck in a spaceship with only a couple of people for my own entertainment, and broadened my horizons to consider the planetary exploration we’d be doing and all the wonderful experiences we were destined to face. And suddenly I truly realised how lucky we all were, going on this exciting expedition. So I stood for a few minutes, staring out into wilderness that by now had truly grasped hold of my heart, until eventually I turned away, and found that I wasn’t alone.
(The lights brighten slightly, but not enough as to reveal the set for the infirmary. Stood right next to him, blocking his way, is Kathleen Lum, 48, a bulky, older woman in the red lined uniform of the ships security officer. She has somewhat severe features, a massive mop of mousy brown hair, and she looks surprisingly muscular. When she speaks, it sounds harsh and grating, almost masculine.)
Kathleen: (sharply) What are you doing away from your post?
Caiden: (surprised) I didn’t know that there was a mail service in space. Well, you learn something new every day.
Kathleen: (snarling) Don’t get cheeky with me, kid. Earth Control regulations clearly state that every worker should stick religiously to their captain‘s orders, and the captain has said that all crew should be in their work places. Unless your job is chief stargazer, chump, I suggest you get moving before I have to sanction you.
Caiden: (fighting back) Yeah, alright, King Kong. What are you doing away from your post then, if you have the authority to question me? In fact, what is your job?
Kathleen: Isn’t it obvious? I’m the ships security guard. (Caiden sniggers) Don’t laugh. I intend to carry out this role in the serious manner that it should be treated with.
Caiden: I’m sorry, but what is there for you to “secure“ us from? (melodramatic) It’s not like some alien is going to magically appear in the ship. And even if they did, I’d doubt they’d mindlessly slaughter us all unless they have a real hatred for plain black uniforms.
Kathleen: Well, you can never be sure. Now, get a move on!
Caiden: (walking off slowly, muttering) I’m going, I’m going.
(The lights dim once again as Kathleen, content, marches off. Caiden takes the spotlight once more.)
Caiden: That brief encounter only left me with more questions. First off, I was surprised that the ship needed human security. It made me query whether what we were doing was going to be a heck of a lot more dangerous than we‘d presumed. But then I cast my mind back to the beautiful dark ocean that we were drifting on through, and, happy once more, I found myself in the infirmary.
(Caiden exits. The lights come up in the infirmary, which is brightly lit and somewhat more cheery than the simple corridors. The room contains several shelves and drawers full of medical equipment and books, and at the back of the room is a tidy hospital bed. Sabrina Alden is busy searching through said books when Caiden knocks on the door.)
Sabrina: (without turning around) Come in.
(Caiden does so, closing the door loudly behind him and ruining the peace. He enters onto the stage.)
Sabrina: Now apologise to the door.
Caiden: What for?
Sabrina: For slamming it of course.
Caiden: (monotone) I’m sorry door. There, that better?
Sabrina: Very much so. (She finally turns around) Ah, Stupid, what can I do for you?
Caiden: Actually, it’s Caiden. Or Supervisor Morse. Or his royal highness, if you’d please.
Sabrina: (grinning) Ok then. Prince Stupid of Stupidia, how can I help you?
Caiden: (with a wry smile) Very witty. I was just popping by to say hi.
Sabrina: Right. Any reason in particular?
Caiden: Yes, because it’s my job, actually.
Sabrina: Well, I can’t argue with that.
(Sabrina turns and continues sorting out her books.)
Sabrina: Go on then, talk to me, Supervisor Morse.
Caiden: (a little overwhelmed) Ok. (he sits on the bed) What you doing exactly?
Sabrina: Searching through books. Come on, Stupid, at least try to use your eyes.
Caiden: Yeah, ok, I got that. But why?
Sabrina: I’m reorganising them into a pattern where I can remember the location of every document with accurate precision. It’s vitally important to my patient’s survival that I know where to look.
Caiden: They look like very complicated texts, doctor.
Sabrina: Yes, well, that’s because they are. In any human circumstance, a medic will have trained on what to do to help with all situations of illness and injury. But we’re not facing human circumstances. If anything does happen, then it’ll be something unfamiliar and probably quite complex. Therefore, these books go right to the core of fundamental medical science. This isn’t simply a remembrance job. This is live science.
Caiden: (it’s all gone over his head) I see. Well, actually, to be honest, I don’t. Most of that was far too detailed for a mere stupid supervisor like me, but there you go. But there’s no real rush, is there? I mean, you could have weeks, or months, before we even find a suitable planet to touch down on. So why don’t you take it slow, take life on the calm side of the road.
Sabrina: I don’t know. I guess I feel that it’s important to me to be organised.
Caiden: And that’s fair enough. I guess, even though you won’t get to do much, you probably have the most important job here on the Spycraft. Without you, we’d be falling like pigeons!
Sabrina: (turning away, smiling) That’s a tad bit of an exaggeration, but thanks all the same.
Caiden: (sensing the opportunity) The pleasure’s all mine. I’ll flatter you any day if you smile like that.
Sabrina: (weary) Right. Haven’t you got other things to be supervising, Mr Morse?
Caiden: Probably.
Sabrina: Then off you go! Goodbye!
(Caiden lounges around expectant for a second before a giggling Sabrina physically forces him from the room, his comedic complaints and laughter echoing into the darkness as he takes up his place in the spotlight.)
Caiden: For a moment, I waited by the door to see if she was gonna let me back in. When it was clear that she obviously wasn’t as interested in seeing me as I was in seeing her, I decided to make my next stop the laboratory, where I could talk more with a certain professor.
(The lights come up on a similar scene, with an operating table instead of a bed and a backdrop showing walls of scientific equipment. Neville Tanner stands in the centre of the room, trying to pour some kind of liquid from one test tube to another, in stereotypical scientist style. His face is a picture of strenuous concentration, as he tries to accurately carry out his investigation. But just at the wrong time, one of his arms spasms and ends up pouring the liquid all over the table. Cursing, he searches frantically for something to mop it up with, as the sound of the doors swishing open is heard and Caiden arrives.)
Caiden: Hey, Nev.
Neville: (briefly glancing up.) Ah. Supervisor Morse. (occupied.) To what reason do I owe the pleasure of your presence?
Caiden: (grinning) I’m just supervising, me. How goes the sciency stuff?
Neville: (he has found a set of scientific instructions, and is reading through them carefully) Not too well. You saw my arm earlier, yes?
Caiden: What, your map-dropping spasm?
Neville: Yes, yes, I call them “Ack Attacks“. I’ve had them all of my life, if I my memory isn‘t playing games with me, and they are a profuse pain in the posterior. There’s no biological explanation, apparently. So I’ve had to just go by with them. You see that mess on the work desk? The aftermath of an Ack Attack.
Caiden: I’m sorry to hear that. What kind of chemical is that on the desk?
Neville: (taking the instructions and using them as a mop) You wouldn’t recognise the name, but the purpose is to identify the ratio of gases in the air around us. Nothing too dangerous I’m afraid, so if you were looking for explosions then you’ve came to the wrong place.
Caiden: (watching with slight amusement) Yeah, I think you took the best approach there. Nice and simple, now that’s the kind of scientific explanation that I like.
Neville: (scanning the paper with some kind of device) Yes, well, I’m afraid it’s not very often that you come across a simple explanation in this profession. Often the true reasoning is too complicated for our simple human minds to comprehend. Sometimes there are things in life that we can’t even begin to explain. Here we are, thousands of miles away from Earth. Yet back home they still don’t know what causes the hiccups. All of these years, and still no explanation.
Caiden: Just like your Ack Attacks?
Neville: Aye. (smiling) Ahah!
Caiden: What is it?
Neville: Just as I suspected. They’ve managed to create air gas ratios very similar to the Earths. Now that is remarkable.
Caiden: (a little baffled) It is?
Neville: Yes, yes. Well, the carbon dioxide levels are a little higher, admittedly, and the nitrogen much lower, but that explains the breathing.
Caiden: (once again, he is out of his mental depth) Erm… the breathing?
Neville: Indeed. Have you noticed that since we’ve been active here, we have had to take far less breaths per minute? It’s because there’s a higher level of oxygen here, so we need not breath as often. Now, I wonder how they’ve made that work.
Caiden: Nev, you’ve lost me.
Neville: (finally paying attention to Caiden) Oh, bother, forgive me. I really have forgotten my manners. Off I go, talking about “sciency stuff” when you’re here to socialise! I’m very sorry that I confused you. It’s all in the job, you see.
Caiden: Oh please, there’s no need to go all melodramatic, Nev.
Neville: (withdrawing a little) Indeed, sorry.
Caiden: (changing the subject) So, I noticed that you and Sabrina know each other. Do you go far back, or…?
Neville: Well, yes, we used to work at the same laboratory.
Caiden: What did you do?
Neville: Well, a bit of everything, really. Physics, chemistry, biology, you name it, we did it.
Caiden: Geography? History? Home economics?
Neville: I’ll presume that that was a joke. But yes, we met there, at the laboratory. She was a facility medic, and a minor biologist. In fact we worked together a few times, yes, until the day…
(Neville suddenly blanks out.)
Caiden: The day…? The day the teddy bears have their picnic?
Neville: (more solemn) Nothing to do with teddy bears at all. I’m terribly sorry, I’d rather not talk about it.
Caiden: (still curious) Why not? Have you got some deep, dark secret? Has professor Tanner done something a little naughty?
(Caiden is ready to press on, when suddenly an announcement rings through the air.)
Talia: (speaking through a clear speaker system) Am I on? Hello? Ah ok… Hello! This is your pilot, erm, Talia Wren. Just a quick announcement to say that we, erm, it’s time for dinner! In case you didn’t realise, we were activated at … twelve? Erm… One! One o’clock ship time. So yeah, after dinner, we’re supposed to go back to our stations before further notice. Thanks! (quietly in the background) Phew, that was nerve racking. Was that ok, sir? (realising she’s still on) Oh, cripes!
(The message ends and Caiden grimaces.)
Caiden: Wow, talk about unprofessional.
Neville: (attempting to be funny) Well, it’s a fourteen lettered word beginning with the letter u.
Caiden: (after an awkward silence) Shall we catch a bite to eat?
Neville: (embarrassed) Indeed.
(They both exit as the lights dim to Caiden once more.)
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