In Thrall

The prologue kind-of-thing

Quote:
If you are to be my new medical officer. I expect you to have better sense than to waste my time.”
Comma instead of the first period? If not, then I suggest you take out the ;if’.

Quote:
After a few seconds of palpable tension, Captain Moncreif motioned smoothly and a burly, brown haired man, doubtless the first officer, stood.
Moncreif motioned and the guy stood? Only when Moncreif motioned? You have ‘smooth’ up there - a bit down there is ‘smoothly’. I know I’m picky here, but wouldn’t a synonym be better? -Just a suggestion, though. Also, the ‘he’ in the next sentence: it is not entirely clear who you are talking about, Moncreif or the officer.

Quote:
Even if this had not been the policy for the interstellar Navy, Lark had heard that Moncreif had an intense disdain for both aliens and women.
This sentence is bugging me… I don’t like the first part before the comma merged with the second on after it into one. Can’t say why, so you might just ignore me here, lol.

Quote:
Belatedly, he realized the captain had been trying to get his attention for the past several minutes.
Several minutes? Somehow I feel that that is much too long for Moncreif to stop at only ‘trying’

Quote:
Then he spoke in a language Lark did not know. The words were soft and almost slippery. It took Lark a moment to realize he was speaking to the Nagai.
These are terribly short sentences. I found few of them in the text as a whole, and this just kind of surprised me.

Quote:
Well, I’m sorry that I don’t speak your language but between Moncreif wanting to fry me (…)
Comma before the ‘but’?

Quote:
And then he left the room, leaving Lark alone with the Nagai.
I really don’t like sentences staring with ‘and’. I just don’t. Up there it’s not really necessary. -But that’s just a suggestion.



Okay, that’s my rather useless critique, seeing as everything has already been corrected. Loved the whole thing, by the ways!

-elein

>>You've waited long, you've waited hard, now at last, here it is!!!!<<


Danteel paced. Moncreif, in a rare act of leniency, had allowed him access to the entire suite tonight, and now the Nagai strode back and forth through the main room. The captain himself sat behind his desk, immobile, staring through his long fingers as if staring into eternity. Neither would get any sleep tonight.

“Damn it, Danteel, can’t you be still?” said Moncreif after a long silence. But there was more weariness than threat in the words.

The Nagai answered simply, “No.”

The long silence resumed. The faint and far-away noise of the great engines and the soft footfalls of Danteel’s boots on the carpet seemed, after a time, like the loudest sounds in the universe. Danteel had never had an especially active imagination, but now he fought against it as hard as he had ever fought a mortal enemy. Images of Mattira with Jonahn were crushed as soon as they began to form, but for every one Danteel destroyed there was another waiting to take its place.

Finally, speech became the only way to escape the monotonous imprisonment of his own mind. “What’s a Weaver?” he said.

Moncreif, who had been sitting perfectly motionless with his eyes closed, opened them slowly. “Why?”

“I asked.”

The terrifying green eyes started at nothing for a moment. “Weavers are holdovers from the days when humans believed in wizards and dragons and heroes and powers,” he said. “I know your people have some similar mythologies.”

“But do they truly wield any power?”

“Of a sort.”

“How?”

Those eyes swiveled to skewer Danteel in their angry gaze. “Why are you asking?” And why should I answer?” The Nagai had seen that expression before. But the Captain wouldn’t beat him tonight. Not after bargaining away Mattira to save his life.

He shrugged.

Moncreif scowled. “Most of their power resides simply in their legends.”

“But not all.” It wasn’t a question.

“I won’t deny that there have been Weavers who had…unusual abilities. But Jonahn and his kind—no. They may know a trick or two about manipulating the human psyche, but that’s all they are—tricks.”

Danteel knew his next question could get him in real trouble. He asked it anyway. “So why is he hiding from his own government?”

He had been hoping for a bigger reaction than Moncreif gave. The captain shrugged. “People talk,” he said.

“And what is it they talk about?”

But Moncreif had returned to his intense study of the middle distance. “Fairy tales,” he said, and closed his eyes.

* * *

At 0307 hours, there came a knock at the wooden doors. Moncreif’s eyes snapped open and Danteel moved stiffly to open the doors, half terrified of what he would see.

It was Alita. She was dressed in slacks and a plain black blouse, but her hair was tousled and there were bags of sleeplessness beneath her eyes. She smiled wanly at the Nagai. “I didn’t think you’d be able to sleep, either.” She glanced past him. “Good evening, captain.”

“Good morning,” he returned.

“May I come in?”

“If you must.”

She entered, Danteel closing the doors behind her. Alita looked around the room for a chair and sank gratefully into the one she found. The Nagai stood before her, hands clenching and unclenching with the force of what he couldn’t ask.

She looked up at him sadly. “I don’t know. He took her into his room and locked the door. I didn’t hear anything, but the walls are thick. I’m sorry.”

For a long time Danteel just stood there, staring down at his boots, his face impossible to read. The silver pulsed in his eyes for a few seconds, then died. “Thank you,” he said, and returned to pacing.

* * *

Alita was asleep by 0500 hours, curled in the chair she had claimed. Danteel had covered her with the thin blanket from his own bed while Moncreif watched.

Two hours later, the expected knock came. The Nagai opened the doors to see a large, armored ship’s soldier standing with Mattira in his arms. She was asleep, deeply so, and as Danteel took her he felt her thin body trembling. She was dressed in a thick bed robe, of a style Danteel didn’t recognize, so it must have been Jonahn’s. Alita woke as the door slammed shut and stood, the blanket falling unheeded to the floor. She came forward and took Mattira from Danteel, gently but firmly, and the Nagai didn’t resist.

Moncreif and Danteel watched her take the girl into Mattira’s tiny cell and close the door. They looked, briefly, at each other. Then, without a word, each went into his own quarters, shut their doors, and collapsed onto their beds, each asleep before they hit the blankets.

Only two chapters behind on this? Ah, that's a relief - I thought I'd be about five pages back and buried in the dust of the first posts. ^_^ But as there's not too much here that I've missed, I'll print out these two last chapters and get to work on them for you. It wouldn't do any good to leave the crazy bird hanging.

*hugs*

*gulps*

Why didn't I read this before? You don't make enough of Danteel in the Dialogue Game, Gyr. This is brilliant - as good as Gypsie Eyes, and possibly better! WUNNERFUL. No crit, cos I can see nix to correct.

Danteel isn't too pitiful, not too "look at me, I'm the brave and heroic slave", and with potential for serious bad-guy.

Fantastic.

Super-duper in a candy cane.

Fantasmagorical.

When's the next bit coming?

>>>right now, darling!<<<

When Danteel awoke, his highly accurate internal clock told him that it was nearly midday. He jolted upright, grabbing at the chrono that sat beside his bed. 1150 hours. Danteel cursed in his native language and dressed hurriedly. Then, fingers brushing his collar, he emerged silently from his cell.

The quarters were quiet. Not a sound from Moncreif’s master suite, nor the tiny cell next to Danteel which Mattira occupied. Mattira.

It was as if a knife twisted in Danteel’s heart. He went to her door and knocked gently, whispering her name. He could hear the rustling of blankets and a sleepy murmur, then nothing. The Nagai reluctantly keyed for the door to open, only half looking in should she be indecent. It was hard to tell whether she were or not, for all he could see of her under the mass of tangled sheet and blanket was her silky black hair, all awry.

As he stepped towards her, he felt his booted foot hit something that moaned. Startled, he stepped back, looking down. It was Alita. The young human woman had made up a thin mattress for herself out of cushions from the main room, assembling this makeshift bed in the small space between Mattira’s cot and the door.

With a groan, she rolled onto her back and blinked her eyes owlishly at him. “Whata ya doing here?” she demanded groggily, throwing an arm over her eyes to block the light that spilled in through the open door.

“I might ask you the same,” he replied.

“Couldn’t leave her alone,” Alita explained, her voice becoming clearer as she came fully awake. She was wearing her outfit of the night before, the fabric now creased and crumpled. Slowly, uncertainly, she levered herself to her feet, trying to straighten herself out as she did so. “Couldn’t leave her alone,” she repeated, “and you couldn’t stay with her.”

“Obviously,” he said. Then, in more somber tones, “How is she?”

Alita shrugged and gestured to the still-sleeping figure. “As you see.”

Danteel tenderly brushed a lock of Mattira’s hair back from her face. “What has he done?” he whispered.

“My master or yours?” asked Alita, only half sarcastically.

“Mine. Yours is no master in comparison.”

Alita shrugged, conceding at least that point. “Still, if a ‘he’ has done something to her recently, it would be Jonahn.”

“It was Moncreif who handed her over,” said Danteel. “Because of me,” he added softly.

Tentatively, Alita placed a hand on his arm. Much to her surprise, he didn’t shrug her off. For a long moment they stood that way, looking down on the sleeping Mattira like worried parents standing vigil over an ill child.

“Sheak verash alimonere,” murmured Danteel, and from the way he said it, Alita couldn’t be sure if he were blessing the sleeping slave or cursing her master.

She was about to say something when the sound of a door slamming echoed through the suite. Only two pairs of doors on the ship were on hinges, the door in from the anteroom, and the door to Moncreif’s chambers. Danteel darted out of Mattira’s cell fast as thought, Alita following him. It had been the door to Moncreif’s chambers that had been slammed, by none other than Moncreif himself.

The captain, always so elegantly self-composed, now stood in the middle of his quarters like a man only half sane. His uniform had obviously been slept in, his short dark hair was mussed, and his expression wavered between confusion and rage. “Danteel,” he snapped. “Is Mattira here?”

The Nagai gestured to the room he had just vacated.

Moncreif took a step towards it, and Danteel’s muscles tensed. But the captain stopped suddenly, and seemed to notice Alita for the first time. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, sounding a little more like himself.

“Nothing, sir, I was just leaving.” All of Alita’s resolve to stay and help melted in the glare of those eyes, and she hurried out of the room with only the briefest backward glance at Danteel.

Master and slave stood, regarding each other for a moment. “Jonahn,” said Moncreif at last, letting the word drip from his mouth like venom.

“Jonahn,” Danteel agreed. “She is still asleep. And unless you would like to start your day out flogging me, I suggest you not attempt to disturb her.”

“’Suggest,’” said the captain, half laughing the word. “You suggest.”

“I do.”

“At least you have learned not to demand.”

“At least.”

Moncreif’s sharpness returned suddenly. “You needn’t bother protecting her—she’s safe from me for the next few days.” Surprisingly, his disgust seemed not to be directed at Danteel, but the Nagai, never one to argue when handed good fortune, declined to ask at whom the disgust was aimed. “Come,” said Moncreif, “help dress me. What’s the time?”

Danteel told him.

The captain shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Come,” he said again.

Only after Moncreif was washed, shaved, and dressed did he enter Mattira’s room, standing over her much as Danteel had done. The Nagai stood in the doorway, again tense and ready. But the captain just looked for a moment, then swept out of the cell and towards the door out of his quarters. “Just go check on our guests would you,” he said before he left, the sentence phrased like a question but spoken like an order.

“Yes sir,” said Danteel.

As he opened the carved wooden doors that led to his anteroom, Moncreif glanced back over his shoulder. “We have a common enemy now,” he said.

“I know.”

“Do not expect that my behavior towards you shall change because of it.”

“Of course not.”

Moncreif nodded curtly. “Good,” he said, then swept out.

Thats BRILLIANT!!!

~ Shadowsun

Umm.....thank you. I'm glad you liked it!

Yeep!

Great; Gyr strikes back!

Just one thing that I really noticed:

gyr wrote: The Nagai reluctantly keyed for the door to open, only half looking in should she be indecent.

I know what you mean here, but it's worded a bit awkwardly. Perhaps, "lest she be indecent"? But the "indecent" bit makes it sound like Mattira's done something wrong. Is there another word to use? "Uncovered"?

Oh, and this that I'm not too sure about:

gyr wrote:“Come,” said Moncreif, “help dress me. What’s the time?”

Danteel told him.

The captain shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

Do you need to start that many paragraphs? The middle one - "Danteel told him" looks a bit lonely by itself. Should it be run onto the first para? I don't know, but check it out to see if it's right.



-Twit

Ooop, just saw this in the first chapter:

gyr wrote:The Nagai shrugged. “Isn’t that the way of your kind? A member is inconvenient, now he his dead, problem solved.”

His = is

Just re-reading this in appreciation, and to refresh my memory for Rainbow Eyes.

Okay, now I feel bad for not reading it before. I'm gonna try and crit but there wasn't really anything. First, shouldn't it be in fnafiction? Just a thought, anyway...

Lark is really cool but I don't think you described him. For other readers I only read the first page. He was kinda a mystery to me. First of all I think Moncrief is a b------. Uh...

I love danteel and feel really sorry for him. Unfortunatly thants it. Bye sis!

~Pol

Okay, this is after reading the second part. Again very good. Is it a flash back or are you gonna keep the story here? Only everyone else who's read it. Nevertheless. Um, one thing I completely hated. "His eyes were the stuff of nightmares."

EEEWWWWWWWW!!!! Sorry, but the wording was terrible. My edit would probably be something like, These eyes seemed to be made of nightmares. That was it. Its so unfair. You shouldn't be allowed to be this good of a writer. *Sniffles* Pass the Kleenex.

~Pol

Okay, now I've read the third part. It was good, like the rest. I think you should explain the shuttle bit a bit more. He could have tried to escape or something. Or at least planned it.

The Moncrieff smile thing creeped me out, a lot. Anyway, I thought the necklace thing was good. I would describe the pain way more. Everything else in this bit is really detialed so you should describe the pain on his neck n'stuff...

I would describe the necklace too. I imagine like a bid plain old thing with a fat red detonater on it. Sorry but... Uh, I found it pretty unlikly that only two guards could hold this dude. If he was as detirminded as I thought he was he wouldn't give up that easily. Okay, thats it!

~Pol

lol, I'm glad you like my story, Pol, but you need to read it a bit more carefully--I go into great detail about the collar, as well as the pain (both physical and mental, mostly mental).

O.O

I need to crit this. *hides*

Hello, Dreamy! *pounces* No pressure, love.