This is a W.I.P, and is one of my best projects. I'll be updating this regularly, and would love any opinions (whether it is praise, a literal flamethrower, or something a little more down to earth).
"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light,"
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953
“Listen well, Soren: you are not to venture beyond the Wall. It is simply far too dangerous for a boy to go playing around out there,” Garik said to his son. Lieutenant Garik Jade, Coalition officer - big, strong, protective military man.
“But Dad, what’s out there that-”
“Enough, Son! I told you. There are things out there that you are not to see - that no one is ever to see,” Garik interjected.
It had been at least a decade since the close of the First Contact War, and only five since the death of Soren’s mother, Nira; the boy was still silent on most days, and his rare words were often spat angrily at his father.
Garik sighed, and scratched his head. The weather out was nice. Few clouds had gathered in the atmosphere above them, and the warm weather had settled in days before.
“Tell you what,” Garik said, breaking the silence. His boy’s head rose. “How’s about you and I go to the hill and sit on the Wall?”
Soren smiled for what seemed like the first time since his mother had passed. Garik almost let a tear escape, but he kept his composure.
“Really, dad? Do you mean it?”
“Sure, Son. But you must stay with me the entire way, especially on the Wall,” Garik replied, knowing in his heart that Nira would have scolded them both for venturing so close to the Badlands.
Garik knelt low, and his son mounted his shoulders. The family homestead was a simple one; it was a standard 167 square-meter, Coalition-issued PTD (Portable Terrestrial Dwelling), with two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a single bathroom. It was nearly a kilometer away from the hill, which bordered the I-Sector of Makelo.
The terrain was unique to this planet; the soil was a grayish purple color, while the grasses and local foliage had a deep blue-green hue. They took the same old path that they took several years back, during the colonization years, to the Wall. Soren remembered everything about the route; he recalled a pond with orange water, a tree that grew in the shape of an ‘h,’ and he even knew that the hill had a bare patch of soil exposed because of a shadow cast down by one of the Wall’s many antennae.
Garik grabbed his son by his sides and lowered the boy to the foot of the hill. The incline was shallow, but high enough up their side of the Wall to allow Garik to lift Soren up, and subsequently hoist himself.
Helping Soren, Garik placed his child onto the white reflective lip of the construct. He climbed up as well, and sat beside his son.