A Science Fiction Novel - BETA trial

Set in a post apocalyptic, after-Earth science fiction world - with some notably steam punk undertones - this is a work I'm hoping to expand on in the future.

Chris lifted a gloved hand from the controls to adjust his breathing mask.  Comforted that it was still tightly pressed over his mouth and nose, he then tugged on the leather bag strap crossing his front, ensuring his luggage was still where he needed it to be.  Lord knew he couldn't afford to loose it - there were too many folk eager enough to see his head on a plate already.  His speeder darted through the desert, gliding only a few inches about the sea of dust that made up the majority of New Haven's surface.  

Through the wall of sand, a mountain began to come into view.  A massive orange rectangle on the skyline, worn down by millennial of sandstorms; it and places like it housed most of New Haven's population.  Apart from a few protruding vents and massive windows, it looked just like any old desert mountain.

A crack in the mountainside drew closer, he revved the engine, sending himself darting deep inside the mountain, leaving the storm behind.  Slowing down gradually, the orange rock transformed into metal plates and white lights began to shine down from all directions.  Sand became roads and Chris slowed the engine to a crawl.  Streets stretched out in front, with towering constructions on either side.  Eventually he began to pass pedestrians.  Women wrapped in corsetry, men decked-out in suits - this was the fancy part of town, no doubt.

He would need to move fast.  Meet the contact and keep moving.  He was already attracting too many inquisitive glances from the clowder of women lining the street.  Apparently a skinny bloke with dreadlocks wasn't something the upper-classes were accustomed to seeing in their neighborhood.  Chris couldn't afford to antagonize the local fauna, so he took to reading the street signs.

There - 'Primbrooke Lane'.  He banked a hard left and turned down another chasm of a street, one much thinner than the last.  The buildings here were a mismatched jigsaw of apartments, all built separately, one on top of the other.  He didn't much fancy living at the top.  Chris noted a particularly well-lit building at the end of the street.  A three-story, white-fronted monster of a home.  As he got closer he could see detail carved into the edges of windows and a pillar or two decorating the facade.  This was the place.

He pulled his speeder up to the other side of the street, glanced down into the monotone roads, and straightened his jacket, before approaching the house.  A path took him fifteen feet from the road to the door.  With this kind of real estate, he was definitely in the right spot.  Cautiously, Chris knocked on the polished front door.  He was admiring the wooden finish when the brass handle turned.  On the other side of the door was a tall, middle aged, redheaded woman.  She squinted at the leather-clad rider before offering him entrance.

Chris could barely believe he was standing in an entrance hall.  A real one, with a huge staircase and an old-world chandelier above his head.  The woman closed the heavy door behind him before speaking.  "You have it?"  The urgency in her voice caused Chris to stop straining his neck to admire the ceiling.  He glanced at the well-dressed woman as she kneaded her hands together.  Chris reached into his satchel and removed the package.

It was a book.  Yellowed pages.  Leather bound, blue, with notes reaching out at all angles.  It was tied together was string.  The woman had barely set eyes on it before she snatched it from Chris's hands.  "You haven't opened it?  Haven't read it?"  She pressed the book close to her chest.

Taken aback, Chris blinked at the woman a few times before shaking his head.  Slowly he zipped his bag back up, speaking gently to the nervous customer.  "Wouldn't be any good at my job if I made a habit of-"

"Out."  She had opened the door, one arm still curled around the book.  Straight-backed, the woman stared Chris down until he stepped towards the doorway.  "Your fee has been met.  Wired to your account.  As agreed."

It had been.  Information brokers never missed a payment.  It was the only thing that made it worth the risk.  What these people would pay for their precious books...  Chris nodded and left the woman with her product.  If he had been any slower, the door would literally have hit him on the way out.  The door slammed, the brass fittings shook.  Sighing heavily, he muttered "You're welcome" and walked back to his speeder.

Author's Note

I've been playing around with the idea of writing a short science fiction novel for a while now, and have taken to writing small splices of a possible plot.
While it's unpolished and imperfect, this piece gives some of the feel for what I'm going for.

Reviews

[Karleem Johnson]

I like it, a couple of spelling errors, but a great introduction story all in all. Good job.