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Few works of mine for you. One is just for fun and one is for a class. Let's see if you can spot which one is which.
Death of a Squib


(Blue lights onstage. A single character, wearing a military uniform and blue face paint and prosthetic muzzle is standing CS. Behind her, several people are working seemingly retrofitting a coolant tank housing. The audience only sees their silhouettes.)

Casie: Good evening. My name is Casie, and I’m, well, dead. As you can see behind me, they’re trying to retrieve my body from underneath the coolant tank that killed me. Heh, I tried to tell them that those welds wouldn’t last. (Pause, then continues sarcastically) Then again, who’d ever listen to me? I’m three feet tall, I look like a weird cross between a rat, a badger, and a fox. Plus, I’m covered in blue fur. Think about it, would you listen to someone who looks like me? (Pause) I thought not. Anyway, let me fill you in on a few things. (Casie walks DSR, lights up on the action CS.) The tall guy wearing the blue shirt, well, that’s Captain Sinclair. You might say he’s my boss. He runs everything on the Hunter. See that bald guy there? That is my section chief, Lt. Thomas. He’s pretty cool, but he has a propensity to be, well, cranky. How did this all start? (Looks at watch) I don’t have enough time to tell you the full story, but I can hit on a few key points.

Sinclair: Easy now. I don’t want anyone else hurt.

Casie: Yeah, Captain Sinclair always did interrupt me when I had something important to say. Now where was I? Oh, how I died. A few weeks ago, don’t matter how long ago it was, we got into a bit of a donnybrook with another ship. Actually, another species entirely. Point is, we barely defeated them, but we took a lot of damage. Everything was repaired, except that cooling tank. I tried to tell them those welds wouldn’t hold. But no one listens to me. It just sucks that I happened to be under the cooling tank when it broke loose.

(Various grunts are heard as the men try to remove the tank.)

Casie: What is it like to die? Well, you only see a white light if two criteria are met. First, there has to be an explosion of some sort. Second, you have to be thick enough to stare at the explosion. Anyway, you really don’t feel anything. One minute you’re acting normal, next you’re staring at yourself. But there’s no pain, no nothing. It’s almost as if someone just turned the lights off without warning. Death is sudden, unexpected. Is there anything after life? I don’t know. I’m stuck in purgatory for now. Apparently there is a slight chance that I might still be alive. Part of me wants to live, but part of me loathes being stuck in a bacta bath for a year or better.

Thomas: I think we’ve got it. Pull her out carefully know.

Casie(delivered US): (gasps) Watch it, that hurts, you morons! (In between gasps of pain) I guess... I’m ... not dead... after all.

Sinclair: Watch it!

(A heavy thunk is heard.)

(Casie falls to the stage floor screaming as a shadowy figure slowly crosses behind her.)

(Blackout)


Night Terrors

“...To sleep, perchance to dream.”

Casie had been left alone in the briefing room, staring out at the vast expanses before her. The tower the room was located in gave her a spectacular view of the cosmos and the terrestrial body she was on. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bright flash of light and a wave swept through her field of vision, temporarily blinding her. She blinked, and cleared her vision...

...Only to find herself riding a train into what she could only assume was a densely populated city. Judging by the copious amounts of concerta wire strung across the fences, this had to be an important place. The train jarred to a halt, and an announcement made it clear that this was the end of the line. She got off, only to be blinded again by a flash of light. Her vision cleared rather quickly, and she realized that a holocam drone had been responsible for that event. She quickly moved off the platform, and was greeted by a giant forty metre by ten metre holoscreen bearing none other than the image of Admiral Fel. She turned to the person next to her to inquire as to what the Admiral was doing on a holoscreen, for she had never known him to like press conferences very much, only to be greeted by what appeared to be a octagonal pyramid with several projections from it’s side and conical head.

“Move along.” It said in a mechanical voice.

“But I...” She began.

“Move.” It said again, with more force behind it than a walking trashcan could ever hope to muster.

“I... of course.” She told it. “I’ll be going now.”

Casie hurried through the station and out onto the street, where she bumped into a woman. A very familiar woman.

“Corry?” She asked. “How did you get here?”

The woman turned on her heel and walked quickly away, always looking directly ahead of her, almost as if she was afraid if she looked to one side or the other someone would get her.

Puzzled, Casie followed her into an alleyway between two rather tall buildings. Without warning, a heavy bag was dropped over her head, and something hard struck her in the back of the head, dropping her into blackness.




Casie awoke to find herself tied to a chair with heavy rope, surrounded by a strange group of Tau’ri surrounding here. Two of them looked familiar, the one whom she had followed, and a younger male around eighteen, with rather spiky pink hair. Before she could speak, another Tau’ri, whom she didn’t recognise spoke in a raspy voice.

“Well, anyone got any ideas about what to do with this... thing?” He asked, his voice seething with anger.

“I say we swap it. One of ours for one of theirs.” Another said.

The man whom Casie sort of recognised lunged at her, whipping a knife out and placing it at her throat. With his other hand, he smacked her in a rather painful area.

“It’s female.” He snarled. “Tell me, spy,” He added, pressing in slightly with the knife, and at the same time, forcing her head back. “Why should I let you live? You’re obviously working for them.”

“Enough, Spiker. Do you really think they’d bother sending a spy in here? If they knew where we were, there’d be a Death Squad barging in here and laying waste to anyone and everyone in here.” An older male Tau’ri stepped in from the shadows, commanding respect just by his stature.

“I still say we kill her. She already knows too much.” Spiker’s voice carried with it a loathing Casie had heard only once before, from her former Master.

A woman off to Casie’s left butted in. “If we kill her, we’re no better than them.”

Spiker turned and snarled a response to the woman. “Shaddap, Gidget. We don’t make people suffer like they do. We’re better than them.”

“Are we? Are we really?” The older man asked.

Off to her left, the woman called Gidget spoke, her voice one of longing.

“Spiker, you of all people should know what happened to Sven. The cowards put twenty-four bullets into him, and he was just a poor defenseless child. Twenty-four bullets for an eight-year old. And yet you want to murder someone who’s bound to a chair, with no chance to fight for her life. How do you even have the balls to tell me that that’s not becoming like them?”

Spiker turned towards Gidget, his voice filled with sarcasm. “I know what they did to your brat. He would have had a chance if he hadn’t been caught stealing those parts.”

“Parts you told him to steal!”

“Enough!” Casie barked, finally free of the gag that had been so rudely shoved in her mouth. “This bickering is pointless. You blame him for your sons death, he wants to kill me. You don’t want him to kill me because you say that will make him no better then they are, whoever they are. It seems to me that you all need a lesson in manners. If one of you would just kindly untie me, I’ll be on my way.”

Spiker turned his angry glare towards Casie, before slapping her across the face, with enough force to blacken her eye. “Shut up, you little...”

Spiker never got a chance to finish his sentence, as Casie’s foot lashed out, catching him square in the groin, toppling him over. Unfortunately, his knife slipped just a little, gaining Casie a scratch on her throat, not enough to cause her great harm, but enough to cause her to bleed a little.

Quickly, it seemed as if every weapon in the room was brought to bear on her. The old man, however, stepped into the light. He looked every inch an older, more battle-scarred version of her captain. When he spoke, his voice carried with it a commanding tone that she knew only came with decades of experience. “Enough. Just because our prisoner lashed out at the man, and I use that term very loosely, who was torturing her is no reason to threaten to kill her. You all know our policies. We do not torture our captives, unlike the Alliance. You two,” He added, gesturing to two guards. “Untie her.”

As soon as she was untied, the old man grabbed her by her upper arm and proceeded to drag her into what appeared to be a garage office, and shut the door behind them.

“Listen, I don’t know who or what you are, but I have one question for you. Can I trust you?” The old man’s eyes burned into Casie’s as he stared at her, keeping her off-balance.

“I... I,” Casie wanted to tell him that he could trust her completely, but somehow she felt that she couldn’t honestly say that. “I’m sorry, that is the one question I cannot answer. That answer is not mine to give.”

“Fair enough. The fact that you didn’t answer speaks volumes. If you had answered rashly, you’d probably be laying dead right where you stand. My Name is Viappe.”

“Vialpelt?” Casie repeated, stumbling over the word.

The Man laughed. “Not Vialpelt, Viappe. Just call me V. And you are?”

Casie started to tell the man, V, her name, but caught herself. “Wait, how do I know I can trust you?” She asked, instantly suspicious of this man who called himself V.

“A good question. To answer it, if you couldn’t trust me, you’d have been dead even before you were brought here.”

“True.” Casie still was suspicious of this mans motives, but decided to play along for now. She still got the feeling that she had seen this man before, but couldn’t place him. “My name is Casie.”

“That’s not your real name, is it?”

“Yes. Why?”

“We never use real names. Every member of the Resistance has a codename, we just refer to it as their Name. I suppose I’ll have to come up with a Name for you.”

“Well, my friends call me Sparkie.”

“We already have someone Named Sparkie. How about Aislinn?”

“Sounds good, as long as it doesn’t mean anything stupid.”

“Nope. It doesn’t not not mean anything stupid.”

“Come again?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just trust me. What do you have experience in?”

“Well, I am a tech specialist.”

“Good. I have a feeling that your skills will come very much in handy.”

“Indeed. I can already see that alot of your systems need upgrades and repair.”

“The systems here are not the priority. Defeating the Alliance is.”

“Just who or what is this ‘Alliance’ you keep speaking of?”

“The Alliance? To give it its full and real name, it is the United Alliance of the Grand Order of Pegasus Minor. You could call it that, or you could call it the Alliance.”

“That tells me its name, but not its purpose. What does it do and why do some people oppose it?”

“The Alliance first started after the Seven Hour War. Director Fel headed up the negotiation team that convinced the Wraiths and the Daleks to sign a peace treaty with what was then called the New Earth Government. This all happened on Pegasus Minor. Basically, Director Fel was one of the two people behind the research facility known as Black Mesa. Something was found there that both the Wraiths and the Daleks wanted. Director Belfrey, who was the other person behind the Black Mesa project, unfortunately, was killed in the initial fighting. Point is, Director Fel was the one who convinced the Wraiths and the Daleks that using Earth as their battle-ground wasn’t the brightest idea. Naturally, both sides resented that statement and tried to kill him. He made an arrangement that ensured that he wouldn’t die, and that the human race would continue to exist. The Wraiths got whatever it was that was found at Black Mesa, and the Daleks got Earth.”

“What was found at Black Mesa?”

“No one really knows. The Daleks would have gotten the object, and the Wraiths would have gotten the planet, save for one thing. The Wraiths are...”

“Cannibals, I know.”

“How did you ...”

“Know that? My people encountered them once. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”

“Right. Anyway, the reason people are all pissed off about this whole arrangement and the Alliance thing is because humankind has been little better than slaves for the Alliance. We live in constant fear that if we say the wrong thing, a Death Squad will come bursting through the door, and kill us. At first, we tried to demonstrate peacefully, but, as you can imagine, that didn’t go over too well. The Daleks opened fire on the protesters, killing them all.”

“They pulled a Tarkin.”

“A What?”

“A Tarkin. Where I come from, we had an Empire as well. A group of protesters were demonstrating peacefully, and this guy named Tarkin dropped a ship on top of them. Anyone who was lucky enough to escape, well, lets just say they weren’t very lucky for long.”

“I see.”


The two of them began to talk at length, mostly comparing their two universes. The peace, however, did not last long.


“DEATH SQUAD! EVERYONE RUN!” Someone shouted from the other room.

Several shots rang out, along with a few screams.

“Quickly, follow me!” V shouted, grabbing Casie/Aislinn by the arm and half-dragging her to what appeared to be a bookcase. He tugged on one of the books and the case opened to reveal an escape route into what appeared to be, by the smell of things, the sewer system.

“Follow the directions until you reach the countryside. Whatever happens, one of us will find you. Now go. Quickly!”

Aislinn ran as if her life depended on it. It did, actually. Behind her, she could hear the mechanical voices of somethings chanting over and over again “Exterminate! Exterminate!”

Eventually, whatever they were stopped following her, or so she thought. She had just stopped to catch a breath when a set of strong arms grabbed her and pulled her into the forest.

“Don’t make a sound unless you want it to be your last.”

Aislinn recognised the harsh grate of the voice as belonging to Spiker. She practically sighed with relief at being rescued when he pressed a wet rag to her face. Chloroform. Slowly, she fell into darkness and went completely limp in his arms.

“All too easy.”

To be continued....