First Impressions

Here's the first part from the Google doc, so it's not too much at once.

He sits in the cockpit, slumping deeper into his seat, his space biker suit rustles on the faux, orange leather. His suit was painted, decaled, and reinforced with a hard black and red jacket, over a purple, azul, and black under vest. Masayoshi Takanaka’s Brasilian Skies is playing in the background.

Stars, the blackness drift passed as he gazes through the teal tint of the canopy. His eyes landing forward, his ship's front nose coated in stark whites, banana yellows, and rich azure shine under the subtle yet sure flares of the suns way, way yonder. He scans back, a dark blue purviews the rear, as a monochrome, steely silver tint rolls across the forward swept wings.  A soda can is holstered onto his chair. He yanks and chugs it. 

“Trevor, our battery is getting low.”

His eyes glances up to see the hud; six percent leaks off the screen

His voice is like a cello, deep, soft: “Oh?” before the tone sharpens in pitch, “oh. Sonuva.” 

He flips his back over the console, scrunched over at the map for any sort of thing nearby. The image then expands, blooms outwarding from the hud provided, where several red dotted lines hook onto Trevor’s visualized ship.

“Primarily, we’ve got a maintenance shop and a galvo convenience store, which are both approximately 300, 600 miles (482, 965 meters) away respectively.” 

“Wait, but we, or I guess I don’t need stuff at the minute?”

“Just thought it would be smart to collect some things in case.” 

“Mm, fair enough. 

“The other though is quite the locale. According to the site, it’s ‘the iconic Ni & Rahun’s Saloon, the one that stars in all your favorite Dreamsy Schwarmav films, with Red Scar, Red Scar 2, Red Scar 3, Red Scar: the fourth one, Sed Rcar, the Shameless Ripoff, Buggers the Wilkthor, Shrimp Salagavar the Coward! War Stars, Blancacasa. It is the cantina to rule them all!’ Have you heard of any of these?” 

Trevor stares at the speaker where the AI spoke with a longing confusion. A cough could be heard in space somehow. 

“I see.”

Trevor lasers his gaze deep into space, the stare intense enough to cut worlds in half. 

“Hm. Tourist trap, or a normal resupply. Hmmmm.” 

-- --

Trevor slurps an overpriced cocktail from an extremely ornate glass, while sitting in a beach chair. His suit’s off, hawaiian shirt and get up on, his helmet replaced with shades made from the glass of his visor. 

“Man, this is… not really worth the money, but you know what, this drink isn’t actually that bad. Never knew Choar fruit could work with berries, peaches, and tangpea tea like that.” He looks up. A yellow sun, not too dissimilar to the one from earth stares down at a neat, blue skied beach like resort, with folk of all species enjoying themselves. 

Some of them were surfing, some of them were making sand castles, some of them were bathing in the sun, some humans were teaching a few aliens how to play volleyball, while the aliens were teaching the humans some of their beach sports. 

Another loud slurp percusses the air. 

A live band plays to the right of him, people dance along to the beat. He notices one of the members, a crustaceous species was playing a seeming solo with claw fingers, while on the left, a human was beating all of the other species at a pull up contest. 

Trev giggles, “Wow, that is impressive. To the both of them. Yo, I am so curious though, that must’ve taken years for that to learn and work.” 

Meanwhile the name: “Ali!” was getting louder and louder each second, as the man continued to pull harder and harder.

“And that’s 200 pull ups. And my muscles hurt like s**t.” he forces a smile for the audience around him, before he winces fully. 

“No fair, don’t you guys get like, military grade steroids and like enhancements and s**t” an alien, cuttlefish octopus like creature replies,

“Yeah, and what do your supplements contain again?” a moose, elk, bear jeers

“Well, shut first off, those are natural steroids, and besides those are of recommended dosage, these guys are entirely off of, whatever dosage.”
“Hm. Sure they are. Hey, what are the ingredients for your ‘roids?”

The woman the alien was speaking to just sounded confused: “I dunno? How am I supposed to know? I’m just a part of their services.”

The alien pouts.

“Anyway, before you flex your f****n pharmacist-ness on me.”

Another woman responds along side the other “I don’t remember exactly, but the infantry uses a lot of Octacarine for the major strength enhancement.”

“Hah, and guess what it says on the box!” 

Somehow, the alien manages to pull the whole bottle out of her pocket, and points to the label. 

“I hate you.” 

“Although to be fair, the type of octa is a significantly stronger variant of the original.” 

“Hah, see, told you.” 

“Tsk. I hate you now.” 

Trevor shakes his head as he goes back to admiring the view on his beach chair, dipping his drink below a spigot, and his toes in the water. 

-- --

“Reserve battery has been fueled to 75%” 

Trevor does an ok gesture to the speaker, before he waits, finishing the fattest, sloppiest, greasiest, but also the most satisfyingly juicy and meaty burger anyone could ever see or taste.

“Christ, that’s definitely giving me a couple hundred pounds tomorrow. Oh man, I should’ve gotten a sponge from the shop there or something” 

“Holy s**t.” 

Trevor heard the speech directed in his direction, and checks behind. 

Three soldiers in near full armor approach him, helmets off. 

Their bodies and silhouettes were abrasively intimidating. Aggressive, focused, and sharp was their armor. Even their demonic helmets, of a combination gasmask, german style war helmets, and a set of eight glowing orange eyes, burned their presence through the dark void of space. Each of their shoulders rests an icon of a Spartan, yet they were all as relaxed as they were from the beach. 

“A factionless human. Now that’s the sight of a lifetime.” 

Trevor’s helmet somehow raises an eyebrow. 

“What, did you not see the other humans in there.”

“I mean sure, but who knows where they’re from, Titan faction or not. Still, it’s quite the sight to see a human be so natural with other sapiens.”

“Yeah, well take it in, because I got places to be, and time that’s flying.”

“Well.” the grunt sighs, leaning over to a colleague.

“Are we really doing this?” they whisper.

“I mean, it is a bonus. If you want.” the other grunt. 

“Look, I’m not joining your stupid f****n boy scout club, or whatever the f**k.”

“We’re just saying it’s a great opportunity. Look, you get to travel the universe!”

“Yeah…” Trevor looks down at his ship. “Like I can’t do that already.” 

“Nice V.” 

“Man, shut. I’m trying my best alright.”

“Look, okay I admit what I said earlier was rude, but like, my parents and family spent years trying to get away from this stupid nonsense that the human campaign is, and I’m not about to f*****g invalidate their entire life’s work.”

His own words halt his actions and movements. He hesitates to even finish what he’s doing. 

“Yeah. Not after… what I’ve done.” 

The soldier responds. 

“Okay, well we’re absolutely not the Fenrir or the Seraphim-”

“Oh yeah, like the wars you wager and the lands you have rampaged is all just fake news.” 

“Wars? What war? We haven’t had a major war in years.”

“Yuh, huh, like your armor is just cosplay, or f*****g show and tell or some s**t”

The soldier stares at the, frankly, terrifying designs of their armor before slumping their back forward with a face that says, “I get your point.” 

Another soldier picks up with: “I mean, it might as well be. We literally stand around all day and guard positions, while others just do chores. So yeah honestly we just look like this for looks.”

Trevor squints at them in a very unamused way. 

“Really?”

“Seriously! That’s like literally all we do, we stand around to look all tough while the others do chores.”

Trevor expresses the facial equivalent of the phrase “...” 

He continues, “Well! You are quite fantastic at convincing me to join, so much so that I’ve take it upon myself to just.” he presses a button, that lowers and vacuum seals the glass canopy with a satisfying sizzle. 

The vehicle starts to hum, before it crescendoes to a powerful whine with an aggressive clicking bassy purr that rips underneath, then a high pitched snare, then a roar, then a violently raw, yet elegant, symphonic chord of an almost beastly quality, that then finishes with a howling boom that shatters the sound barrier. 

The soldiers glances at each other, with their bones still rattling and quivering from Trevor’s ship. 

One of them hisses and sighs. 

“That was sick though.” 

“Yeah it was.” 

End Of Part

Author's Note

probably formatting errors that might be here, again, there's times where I don't know how to portray something in text.