[NP! It's actually my tag on the other thread anyway. It looks like you've got a lot of cool PSLs going here.]
Hester had first encountered the noise as a child. On Oak Island, that low rumble meant one thing: a predator city was coming. Turn out your lights, children come in. Don't get picked up by the townies, you won't be seen again. Above all, pay attention.
Later, as a teenager, this meant opportunity, one more step on the way to London and vengeance. Again, pay attention.
Here, it took only a moment for her to recognize it. Most people wouldn't hear it over the roar of engines in their fleet. But to her it was a profound bass note that cut through it. It was a pounding timpani, whereas the fleet was a roll of snare drums, military and quick. Again: pay attention. Hester did, narrowing her good eye, leaning out the window. It was between them and The Bullet Farm. Not good.
"Shit. That's what I think it is."
Four levels could be seen from the dust cloud, and great treads that dwarfed their truck. The jaws of the city, two enormous sheets of jagged steel, opened and close like those of some gargantuan insect, ready to devour the Farm and its precious contents. It left tracks in the sand. It was about a third the size of The Citadel, which was small by mobile city standards. People could be seen moving about on the decks, rough scavenger types not too different from what you might find in the Outback.
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sarken
(no subject)
Date: 2016-09-11 11:09 pm (UTC)Hester had first encountered the noise as a child. On Oak Island, that low rumble meant one thing: a predator city was coming. Turn out your lights, children come in. Don't get picked up by the townies, you won't be seen again. Above all, pay attention.
Later, as a teenager, this meant opportunity, one more step on the way to London and vengeance. Again, pay attention.
Here, it took only a moment for her to recognize it. Most people wouldn't hear it over the roar of engines in their fleet. But to her it was a profound bass note that cut through it. It was a pounding timpani, whereas the fleet was a roll of snare drums, military and quick. Again: pay attention. Hester did, narrowing her good eye, leaning out the window. It was between them and The Bullet Farm. Not good.
"Shit. That's what I think it is."
Four levels could be seen from the dust cloud, and great treads that dwarfed their truck. The jaws of the city, two enormous sheets of jagged steel, opened and close like those of some gargantuan insect, ready to devour the Farm and its precious contents. It left tracks in the sand. It was about a third the size of The Citadel, which was small by mobile city standards. People could be seen moving about on the decks, rough scavenger types not too different from what you might find in the Outback.