I'm currently working on a YA scifi series and frankly am not sue if it is any good. It's a "space opera" I love those, they are just fun to me and I thought I'd post my first chapter, so that I can get some honest feedback. So please everybody, let me know what you think.
One
“Worlds are birthed in coldness, but die in blood and fire.”
-Old Maraudan Proverb.
Harcadia Colony, The Edge
United Republic of Planets
The ash from the burning Bargel colony was falling on the land like a dark, dry rainstorm. Tara was horrified by the images before her and while the sights around her were quickly becoming one horrific blur, she could not tune out the loud shrieks of the human and Bargel colonists who were falling under their attackers’ relentless assault. She tried to raise her body off the ground, but her head was pounding, and her legs no longer seemed to work. Tiny red rocks were grinding into her brown legs as she slowly crawled forward, and for the first time, the deep red sand that sprawled across the Bargel’s half of the planet held no beauty for her. Her braids were sticking to her forehead, but she didn’t seem to have the energy to push them back. She noticed large blotches of blood on her legs and fought back a surge of panic.
Was she hurt? Was the wound fatal?
She traced the path of the blood. Yes, her legs were scared, but the wounds did not seem deep enough to create this type of bleeding. She looked at the blood on her fingers.
Blue?
Human blood was not blue. She rolled over and nearly screamed at the sight of the dead Bargel lying beside her. Its rough, hairless gray skin was soaked in its blood and its legs were clearly broken. A tear escaped her eyes as she realized what had happened. Unlike her and the other humans in the colony, the Bargel were being slaughtered without mercy. She knew though, that he colony had not fallen without a fight. The Bargel were known for their toughness and had been one of the last races of Albys to fall in the Unification War.
The heat was starting to get to Tara as she continued to crawl. The orange sky seemed redder then it ever had, even as the usual afternoon rain shower began to fall. Tara knew at once that it was a sign that Yah was crying for her world.
She let out a disgusted laugh.
When the attacks began, her people fled to this side of the planet in hopes that the savages they mocked and isolated would be able to protect them, but Tara now knew that this part of the planet would hold no salvation for anyone. She was so tired, but she forced herself forward. She had to find a place to hide and some how wait out the attacks. She had only moved a few metrics when she heard a faint cry.
It was an old, human woman.
Her thick braids, more gray then black, were matted across her brown forehead. Tara crawled over to the woman. The old woman was bruised and battered, her clothes were torn and her face was full of terror. Tara wished she could do something, anything to ease the old woman’s suffering, but she knew all she could do was be there.
“Help me,” the old woman whispered, her terrified gaze intensifying with every word. The old woman pleaded for help again, but this time the plea was not to her. Tara looked behind her, frozen in fear, as one of her planet's conquerors advanced towards her. She could see the soldiers now. Their gold chest plates were glistening in the sun and the bare legs that hung out of their navy blue pleated skirts were a dark brown and their hair…Tara let out a loud gasp.
They were bald! They were humans. Maraudans. Her own people were trying to destroy her. The revelation shocked Tara. For some reason she expected these monsters to be Albys.
“Help me,” pleaded the woman again.
“I will,” promised Tara, squeezing her hand. “I’ll get help.”
But before she could move, a dark figure approached. Tara could tell by her strides that she was a woman. The dark figure was wearing the same type of military gear that the soldiers wore, but you could see her long braids coming out of her gold, fitted helmet. She walked like she owned the air, the ground, and the universe. She was the most beautiful thing that Tara had ever seen.
“It looks like we have another wounded animal,” said the Dark One.
“Help me please,” begged the old woman, her voice cracking with every sentence. “My daughter… I need to get to my daughter.”
“I don’t think you’ll have much luck finding your daughter in all this,” the Dark One sneered.
The old woman began to shake. “Please, Your Highness. Please have mercy on me. I have been loyal to my Maraudan heritage and to you. I fought with your father during the Great War. Please command this mighty army…tell them…they can find my daughter...help me.”
The Dark One’s brown eyes hardened. “Alright I’ll help. I always want to help a loyal citizen of the Empire.”
The Dark One moved to her side and produced a blast pistol. Tara couldn’t breathe.
“I’ll help put you out of your misery,” she laughed, firing a ray from her blast pistol into the old woman’s chest.
Tara did not have to look down at her to know that she was dead.
“I just hate to see animals suffer don’t you?” she asked, turning to Tara. “A loyal citizen of the Empire would be in Maraudan space.”
“She was just a poor injured woman,” said Tara, in a courageous tone she didn’t feel.
“She couldn’t have done anything to you.”
“I didn’t say she could.”
The Dark One’s smile chilled Tara’s very soul.
“I suppose you are going to kill me, too.”
“Maybe.”
Tara fought back her fear. She used all the strength inside of her to pull herself up. She was Tara from the House of Yaronn. If she was going to die she was going to meet her fate with dignity.
“Why are you doing this?”
It wasn’t a plea, just a simple question.
The Dark One leaned over Tara and she could feel her breathe in her ear. “I did this to send a message Little One.”
“What message is that?”
The Dark One’s words were slow and deliberate. “That we are back.”
Tara opened her mouth to protest but she felt a burning sensation in her chest. She felt herself drop to her knees and looked up as the Dark One, her queen, walked away from her. She didn’t see the look of small regret that flickered on the young queen’s face, nor did she hear the cries of the wailing baby whose mother had been shot just two metrics away from her. By then, Tara was already gone.
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