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Second Shot Pending
When General Sam Ridgemont rose from the dead for the second time in his existence, his first thought was that he must be getting old.
The first time he had died, the resurrection was quick, quiet, and painless. There weren't any messy memories of being shot, no bloody bandages to deal with, no residual pain or soreness of any sort. He had been shot, he had died, and then he had woken up in a bright, clean medical facility a week later, in perfect health other than a slight stiffness from being immobile so long.
So the throbbing pain his forehead, near-darkness surrounding him, and unmistakeable scent of blood in the air were really rather worrisome. The room was silent, too, and in the darkness no distractions presented themselves.
Clive Williams screams, the sort of scream Ridgemont's never heard come out of his quiet, composed young assistant before, but before he can react he's lying on the launch pad. Clive is still screaming, but his voice grows harder to hear. Ridgemont feels the boy's hands grabbing his torso, pulling at his uniform and turning him until he lays face-up.
Clive's face fills his vision, and even through the mounting pain Ridgemont's taken aback by the sheer terror in his eyes. He tries to tell the boy not to worry, that he's been assassinated before and survived, but Ridgemont doesn't remember assassination hurting this much, and then Clive and the other officers slowly fade and all is quiet.
Ridgemont scowled. Assassins. Inconsiderate and stubborn, the lot of them. Not content with killing him once, no. They just had to come back and interrupt him when he was trying to board a shuttle, of all things.
The command ship.
Ridgemont quickly brought his custom-engraved watch up to his eyes, only to be met with a bare wrist. When were they leaving?
The command ship would wait for him, surely.
Leaping into action, General Ridgemont rolled over and made to stand up, barely catching himself as he plummeted off a gurney. He pulled himself to his feet, swaying dangerously but still mobile. The world flashed white as motion-activated lights turned on.
A wrecked operating room came into focus, the exit on the Farr wall. Picking his way across biomat containers (scattered and emptied of all biological material), biological hazard containers (overflowing with emptied blood bags), and some sort of wiring (were the doctors really so busy with war trauma victims that they couldn't tidy after themselves?), he staggered into the hallway.
Someone here would know if the shuttle had departed yet. Someone here would know if he had been abandoned by his chain of command. Ridgemont resolved to aggressively fire Clive Williams if he was in any way involved with the General waking up in a forgotten operating room.
Williams would have to wait, because Death himself awaited General Ridgemont in the hospital lobby, casually arranged in a chair.
"You," Ridgemont hissed. The man merely grimaced, the expression distorting the familiar, grotesque scar marring his face.
"I'm getting tired of killing you," his assassin said.
"So you're who shot me the first time, too," Ridgemont stated, moving closer despite the pounding in his head.
The man nodded. "And I'll probably shoot you the third time, too. And the fourth. And so on, until my employer gets a damn clue and has me kill whoever's responsible for overseasoning the solar system with your warmongering ass."
Ridgemont frowned. "I'm right here."
"I see that, General," the man drawled. "And while that's a lovely opportunity I'll be capitalizing upon soon, my job would be much, much easier if you weren't also there." He nodded to the screens lining the wall.
Onscreen, a group of military officers were in the process of boarding the command shuttle. Ridgemont immediately noticed Clive William's ramrod-straight form amidst the uniformed bodies, trailing closely behind none other than General Sam Ridgemont.
He blinked, then looked down at himself. No, his uniform was still there—albeit bloodstained and devoid of accoutrements—but it was unmistakably him boarding the shuttle.
"I don't understand," Ridgemont whispered.
"I didn't either," his assassin agreed. "But I think I do now. My client wasn't lying when he said you were essential for the war efforts. They're really committed to keeping you around."
Ridgemont stared at the healthy, beaming version of himself waving at the cameras. "But I've died twice"
"That body's only been shot once, I think," the assassin corrected, reaching into his jacket. "But I'll fix that."
The first time he had died, the resurrection was quick, quiet, and painless. There weren't any messy memories of being shot, no bloody bandages to deal with, no residual pain or soreness of any sort. He had been shot, he had died, and then he had woken up in a bright, clean medical facility a week later, in perfect health other than a slight stiffness from being immobile so long.
So the throbbing pain his forehead, near-darkness surrounding him, and unmistakeable scent of blood in the air were really rather worrisome. The room was silent, too, and in the darkness no distractions presented themselves.
Clive Williams screams, the sort of scream Ridgemont's never heard come out of his quiet, composed young assistant before, but before he can react he's lying on the launch pad. Clive is still screaming, but his voice grows harder to hear. Ridgemont feels the boy's hands grabbing his torso, pulling at his uniform and turning him until he lays face-up.
Clive's face fills his vision, and even through the mounting pain Ridgemont's taken aback by the sheer terror in his eyes. He tries to tell the boy not to worry, that he's been assassinated before and survived, but Ridgemont doesn't remember assassination hurting this much, and then Clive and the other officers slowly fade and all is quiet.
Ridgemont scowled. Assassins. Inconsiderate and stubborn, the lot of them. Not content with killing him once, no. They just had to come back and interrupt him when he was trying to board a shuttle, of all things.
The command ship.
Ridgemont quickly brought his custom-engraved watch up to his eyes, only to be met with a bare wrist. When were they leaving?
The command ship would wait for him, surely.
Leaping into action, General Ridgemont rolled over and made to stand up, barely catching himself as he plummeted off a gurney. He pulled himself to his feet, swaying dangerously but still mobile. The world flashed white as motion-activated lights turned on.
A wrecked operating room came into focus, the exit on the Farr wall. Picking his way across biomat containers (scattered and emptied of all biological material), biological hazard containers (overflowing with emptied blood bags), and some sort of wiring (were the doctors really so busy with war trauma victims that they couldn't tidy after themselves?), he staggered into the hallway.
Someone here would know if the shuttle had departed yet. Someone here would know if he had been abandoned by his chain of command. Ridgemont resolved to aggressively fire Clive Williams if he was in any way involved with the General waking up in a forgotten operating room.
Williams would have to wait, because Death himself awaited General Ridgemont in the hospital lobby, casually arranged in a chair.
"You," Ridgemont hissed. The man merely grimaced, the expression distorting the familiar, grotesque scar marring his face.
"I'm getting tired of killing you," his assassin said.
"So you're who shot me the first time, too," Ridgemont stated, moving closer despite the pounding in his head.
The man nodded. "And I'll probably shoot you the third time, too. And the fourth. And so on, until my employer gets a damn clue and has me kill whoever's responsible for overseasoning the solar system with your warmongering ass."
Ridgemont frowned. "I'm right here."
"I see that, General," the man drawled. "And while that's a lovely opportunity I'll be capitalizing upon soon, my job would be much, much easier if you weren't also there." He nodded to the screens lining the wall.
Onscreen, a group of military officers were in the process of boarding the command shuttle. Ridgemont immediately noticed Clive William's ramrod-straight form amidst the uniformed bodies, trailing closely behind none other than General Sam Ridgemont.
He blinked, then looked down at himself. No, his uniform was still there—albeit bloodstained and devoid of accoutrements—but it was unmistakably him boarding the shuttle.
"I don't understand," Ridgemont whispered.
"I didn't either," his assassin agreed. "But I think I do now. My client wasn't lying when he said you were essential for the war efforts. They're really committed to keeping you around."
Ridgemont stared at the healthy, beaming version of himself waving at the cameras. "But I've died twice"
"That body's only been shot once, I think," the assassin corrected, reaching into his jacket. "But I'll fix that."
So this is in a fairly common genre for Writeoffs: "I thought of a cool sci-fi concept and wrote some worldbuild and a basic scenario around it." Overall par for the course in that genre: it has some flash, but lacks substance, and puts most of its eggs into the basket of how it lands its twist.
Unfortunately, the twist doesn't land well for me. So Ridgemont's a clone. So? I'm not surprised that a society with battlefield resurrection technology also has cloning technology. The two seem to go hand in hand, and cloning skilled personnel sounds like a very reasonable thing to do. Indeed, probably easier than resurrecting them! The only surprising thing here is the question of why Ridgemont wouldn't know that he's a clone.
And that question is impossible to answer, because we're in minis, and there's no room to give any real detail on the situation. We don't know what war's being fought, or which side (if any) we should root for. We don't know anything about the assassin or his employers.
Prose is fine. I'm not a fan of block italics, but they're relatively inoffensive here. No, the issues here are more with the initial outline rather than its execution. Medical resurrection followed up by a clone twist... just doesn't work for me, I'm trying to think of ways to land it but I'm not coming up with anything that's easily achievable within mini limits. Perhaps writing from the assassin's POV instead? Even in this version, I'm way more interested in him than I am in Ridgemont.
But such is life in mini rounds. There is a complete-ish narrative arc, fair execution of the basic worldbuilding, and some characterization. That's still pretty decent all told. These sorts of "technically achieved its goals, but needs better goals" entries are some of the hardest to place - probably roughly average? Thanks for writing!
Unfortunately, the twist doesn't land well for me. So Ridgemont's a clone. So? I'm not surprised that a society with battlefield resurrection technology also has cloning technology. The two seem to go hand in hand, and cloning skilled personnel sounds like a very reasonable thing to do. Indeed, probably easier than resurrecting them! The only surprising thing here is the question of why Ridgemont wouldn't know that he's a clone.
And that question is impossible to answer, because we're in minis, and there's no room to give any real detail on the situation. We don't know what war's being fought, or which side (if any) we should root for. We don't know anything about the assassin or his employers.
Prose is fine. I'm not a fan of block italics, but they're relatively inoffensive here. No, the issues here are more with the initial outline rather than its execution. Medical resurrection followed up by a clone twist... just doesn't work for me, I'm trying to think of ways to land it but I'm not coming up with anything that's easily achievable within mini limits. Perhaps writing from the assassin's POV instead? Even in this version, I'm way more interested in him than I am in Ridgemont.
But such is life in mini rounds. There is a complete-ish narrative arc, fair execution of the basic worldbuilding, and some characterization. That's still pretty decent all told. These sorts of "technically achieved its goals, but needs better goals" entries are some of the hardest to place - probably roughly average? Thanks for writing!
I thought the story was pretty good. It sets an even tone and works Ridgemont's perspective nicely given the limited amount of space there is to tell the story. Would additional details be helpful in a longer story? Sure. But as it stands a lot of those additional details aren't really necessary to this particular story at this time.
It's a story about a guy who has something happen to him wakes up and discovers that not only did that something happen to him but what he thought would happen wasn't the case. In fact one could argue that this particular version of Ridgemont had, "One shot," to get it right after he was put down and ... well it he didn't.
It's a story about a guy who has something happen to him wakes up and discovers that not only did that something happen to him but what he thought would happen wasn't the case. In fact one could argue that this particular version of Ridgemont had, "One shot," to get it right after he was put down and ... well it he didn't.
When General Sam Ridgemont rose from the dead for the second time in his existence, his first thought was that he must be getting old.
I love this as an opening line, but I think it's making a promise that the rest of the story doesn't keep. It's quick, catchy, clear. A lot of the rest of this is sort of meandering and vague. Where'd the punchiness of this first line wander off to and let's get it on a leash.
Leaping into action, General Ridgemont rolled over and made to stand up, barely catching himself as he plummeted off a gurney. He pulled himself to his feet, swaying dangerously but still mobile. The world flashed white as motion-activated lights turned on.
A wrecked operating room came into focus, the exit on the Farr wall. Picking his way across biomat containers (scattered and emptied of all biological material), biological hazard containers (overflowing with emptied blood bags), and some sort of wiring (were the doctors really so busy with war trauma victims that they couldn't tidy after themselves?), he staggered into the hallway.
Rereading the story, I still don't know quite where we are here or why. Sam takes on in the chest, doctors haul him over to a nearby ER. Then doctors give up on him and march Clone Sam out? Leaving Other Clone Sam bleeding but very much alive and capable of rocking and rolling? And completely abandon the ER? And the ER is floating in some vague word space with a view of the Very Important I swear Launch? And the assassin is here too? Wiggity what and wiggity what the hell are you talking about?
"I'm getting tired of killing you," his assassin said.
Aahh! There it is again! Everything that made that first line great suddenly somersaults back onto the page with this line. Punch me in the face a few more times, man. I can take it. I've been around the block a few times.
"I'm right here."
Goddammit, you sure are. Screw the frown. Give him a scowl. Give him a war cry. General Bloody Nose Rocket Ship is right damn here, Death, come and take him if you've got any balls. Death's standing between you and soup for supper. Get upset about it.
He blinked, then looked down at himself. No, his uniform was still there—albeit bloodstained and devoid of accoutrements—but it was unmistakably him boarding the shuttle.
I like this twist. It's surprising. It's fun. There's some decent lead up. I think more than anything, this story needs clarity. I need some who, when, where, what, and how, and why does it matter again?
I think there's many fascinating angles that this story could cover. The idea of human cloning itself, Death's job as a literal assassin, the logistics of a cruel war kept alive by cloned leadership, the emotions of realizing that you're only a clone when you thought you were an important man... However, this story seems to try and juggle all of it in tiny doses instead of focusing on one point, and that brings it down a bit. I still think this is a good story, the opening line is my favorite so far, but I agree with everyone else that it could use more focus.
Hm. This just didn't click right for me and I'm really hard pressed to state why. I think there isn't really a clean narrative arc, nor do we really get a great feel for Ridgemont. Basically, there just wasn't really a hook that really engaged me. The setup was neat (though I did have a small problem: in a setting with resurrection, assassination -is- a bit of a weird thing when we don't know the rules), but yeah, it just didn't really feel like it went anywhere with with it.
I think the block italics are fine, but should have been set off on both ends with a soft scene break.
I think the block italics are fine, but should have been set off on both ends with a soft scene break.