Even before the editing phase begins ‘officially’, sometimes material is cut from a draft. The following text is an entire scene which I have decided not to include in Whom Gods Shall Fear. This is because the intentions for the scene are either fulfilled elsewhere or have become irrelevant, and the manuscript is getting very long. As fun as the premise of the scene is, there’s no need for these 1000+ words to be in the story.
This is a scene from the midpoint of the book, which takes place during a very eventful military engagement between the protagonists and the antagonist of the current series. It was originally intended to develop the aspect of strain in the relationship between Euryce Eilentes and convicted murderer Maber Castigon, as well as reinforcing the idea that the giant-like Tanker soldiers still view Castigon as scum.
The Eilentes–Castigon plot line is now handled elsewhere, and highlighting the issues between Castigon and the Tankers has become unnecessary due to changes in the way all those characters are used.
So while this scene was fun to write, and has a threat mechanic which would have created some interesting situations for the characters, it no longer moves the plot forwards.
Whom Gods Shall Fear is now expected to weigh in at just over 200,000 words, making it longer than Dune, any single entry in the Helliconia trilogy, and potentially even A Fire Upon the Deep. So any fat has to be trimmed.
This scene is one of the first to be removed in whole.
I have starred out the name of a certain character to avoid spoilers.
Castigon’s bones creaked in protest at the forces travelling through them, and he swore under his breath. For the briefest of seconds an angry shout paused at his lips, ready to launch itself at Eilentes, but he swallowed it back down. It was not her fault. They had only managed to return safely to Night’s Shadow because of her skill.
With a final jolt, the boarding shuttle settled in place and the piercing screech of metal on metal ended at last.
“Anyone injured?”
He recognised Feior’s voice, coming from somewhere in the dark interior of the wrecked craft. A light flashed erratically in a console on the bulkhead separating the passenger compartment from the cockpit, and Castigon saw the silhouettes of hulking shapes begin to move around. Someone reached for him from the gloom and a heavy hand slapped against his armour, dragged across it, sought out his harness.
“Who’s that?”
“Bear.”
“Thanks… I can manage.”
Castigon heard the giant move away to help someone else. He twisted the release for his safety straps then slid from his seat to the deck.
“Guys… I need everyone off the shuttle, now.” Eilentes’ voice crackled over the damaged comm. “Smells like burning in what’s left of this boat.”
“Somebody help me with ******,” said Castigon. “I think he’s concussed. Like, at least.”
Castigon leaned against the bulkhead, raising ******’s head from beneath his chin and shining a torch into his eyes. ******’s eyes rolled in their sockets, his mouth twisted from side to side, and a fresh trickle of blood oozed from one nostril.
Someone banged against him heavily and began tugging at ******’s body, despite his locked harness. Castigon unbuckled the clasp quickly, grabbed an arm for himself, and pulled.
****** shouted as he came free from the seat, an incoherent stream of words.
“Shoulda left this traitorous fuck over there,” said Castigon’s helper. Ragnar Otkellsson, by the sound of his voice.
Between them they lifted ****** away from his seat, then manoeuvred his limp body through the passenger compartment towards the aft hatch.
“Oh… shit. Well this is different.”
Castigon stared out of the rear of the shuttle, surveying the wrecked upper starboard hangar bay of the Shadow.
“Okay,” said Otkellsson. “Gonna get real fucking interesting in here.”
Broken craft filled the air space above the flight deck. Landers, shuttles, fighters, and gunships tumbled slowly but gracelessly through the cavernous space, colliding occasionally and sending out debris in curving arcs. Here and there the debris crashed without warning to the deck, in other areas it was accelerated towards the overhead or off on a completely random trajectory, joined by freight containers and cargo lifters. Clouds of jagged shrapnel streamed their way along erratic currents that wound unseen through the hangar’s immense volume. Plasteel and metal fragments collided and rebounded in a constantly refreshing cascade, pelting and battering everything in their path, slamming into metal bulkheads with enough force to leave bright, silvery scars in the paint.
“What in the shitting Deep is going on?”
“Gravity plating is damaged,” said Eilentes. “Looks like the whole flight deck is all kinds of messed up. Different directions in different areas, creating an interplay effect. Like currents.”
Castigon craned his neck to look past Otkellsson. Eilentes had stolen cautiously around to the rear of the shuttle from the cockpit, and now stood at the base of the aft ramp. She pointed out across the flight deck.
“As you can see it’s throwing our boats around like confetti,” she said. “If you wondered why that was such a rough landing, now you know.”
“I thought it was up to your usual standard,” said Bear.
Castigon tried not to smirk. “Are we about to join all that flying junk?”
“Don’t think so,” Eilentes said. “I put us down on one of the few segments where the plates are still working right. Whatever knocked out the others, looks like it’s done with for now.”
“We gotta get out of this damned mincer,” Otkellsson said. “We’re going to get pulverised.”
“Isn’t this exactly your kind of scene, Ragnar?” Castigon asked.
Otkellsson tilted his head towards Castigon and paused before replying. “It’s been a really long day, all right?”
Castigon smiled thinly to himself. So even Tankers had their limits.
“What you fuckers waiting for?”
Someone pushed forwards, and Otkellsson was shoved out of the mouth of the shuttle’s rear hatch. He landed on the deck plates below with a thump, and jumped back towards the shuttle in a low crouch.
“Fuck, Bear,” he said. “Throw me out the ship why don’t you?”
Bear grabbed the arm Otkellsson had abandoned, and Castigon felt virtually all of ******’s weight being taken from him.
“What’s that boy-faced cunt whining about? … Oh.”
“The whole flight deck is a death trap,” said Castigon. “Any ideas?”
“Use the Bruiser method.”
“What?”
“He used a Kodiak escape hatch as a shield, on Guathelia. Shield-punched fucking Rasas with it.”
“Euryce,” said Castigon. “How quickly can we strip the interior bulkheads in this bucket?”
Eilentes clambered into the relative safety of the hatchway and pulled herself to her feet.
“Not long. Not long at all, in fact. The lining panels are just bolted on.”
“Then we’d best get started, before this thing catches fire.”
Castigon released the arm he was holding and ******’s body sagged towards Bear. He hesitated before following Eilentes back into the main compartment, wondering why he had even bothered to hold on. Bear was a mountain with legs, he didn’t need any help keeping ****** on his feet.
He started. The Tanker was staring down at him.
“Watch yourself.”
Castigon followed after Eilentes quickly.
“Will these panels actually protect us?”
She retrieved two impact wrenches from the maintenance locker, handed one over to him, and started to work on a panel.
“Eilentes?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. They’re plasteel, but they’re not terribly thick. And I’m not sure about the composition ratio.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Could always test one,” she said. “One of the smaller panels, one we won’t be able to use as a shield.”
“What, like… throw it out there and see what happens to it?”
“Why not? It’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Right then. I’ll get that little one in the corner, chuck it out the back, and we’ll see what occurs.”
“I can’t wait,” she said, and went to work on the next panel.
The Outdoors Author 