This is the opening piece of a (probably) short story. I didn't really want to put it up yet but my polishing couldn't keep up with my posting 
So I'm not terribly happy with it yet.
I do have some specific concerns:
1. Too much exposition/narration? Not enough action/dialogue?
2. Have I broken the Captain's speech up too much with background?
3. Does it need more description?
4. And this is the biggest, I'm not convinced that it is any good as an opening scene or could easily be made so. Yet it is a logical place to start. I could start earlier as they begin the journey home but, whilst that might be okay for a book, I feel it would make too long an introduction for a short story. Alternatively I could maybe make it a flash back as they are coming land on the new planet.
Anyway here it is:
The mess was the only room large enough to hold the entire ship’s complement. Just. And, arriving late, Sam Jennings had to do a bit of squeezing and shoving to establish a space for himself. Such meetings were rare in the course of a survey tour and, in the buzz of conversation around him, he could hear the ship’s rumour mill overflowing with speculation.
The arrival of Captain Jim Bell and Paul Burton, his First Officer, brought an abrupt hush. The Captain eased his large frame through the press of bodies and stood with his back to the bar; Burton to his side. His steady gaze took in all twelve members of the crew. He did not appear happy.
“I am aware that for some this should be your sleep period and I do apologise.”
Sam grunted. That was exactly why he had been late and his mind had not yet fully caught up with his body.
“Although we are headed for home,” the Captain continued, “we are still under Operational Command. I am waving that for this matter; a rapid decision is required and it is more appropriate to a shareholder vote than a command decision.”
A renewed speculative murmur arose at this. Everyone present had shares in the Searcher, however few -- it had always been a requirement for joining the crew -- and, when not operational, major decisions were always made by shareholder vote. However, until they reached Earth, another couple of weeks away, they should still be operating under the strict hierarchical Operational Command.
“It’s been a long, hard tour and I know you’re all looking forward to getting home.”
That should have come with a smile, but no, and that worried Sam. He saw the same concern mirrored in the faces around him. At six months this tour had been double the usual length and, without a single hospitable planetfall, they had all spent altogether too long breathing canned air, packed like so many sardines into a space barely big enough to maintain sanity. Sam waited for the other boot to fall.
“I’m sure rumours have been flying around about the remote courier waiting for us as we came out of hyper yesterday.” A few wry chuckles ran through the assembly. “Well, Interstellar Survey has asked us to do a little detour.”
The voice of the Engineer’s Mate, Dave Smith rose above the predictable grumble of protest. “No way, Captain. Six months out and they want us to do more. That might be all well and good on one of those luxury liners they call IS survey ships, but the Searcher just isn’t big enough for such an extended tour.”
“Dave, I sympathise and feel much the same. However, they have only asked, they cannot command. That is what we must decide now.” He glanced around; every eye in the room was fixed on him.
“The IS astronomers have found an interesting new planet and they want us to take a look.”
“Excuse me, Captain,” Sam put in over the renewed babble of complaints, “we used the last of our remote survey probes at WK2263, our hold has no space for any more samples and we have no remote couriers left. Exactly what kind of survey do they expect us to achieve?”
“Yes, I know, Sam, and to be fair so do IS. They only want a preliminary survey, to establish exactly what will be needed for a full one. I know you can do wonderful things with just the shipboard sensors and the shuttle can be adapted. IS are sending a couple of remote couriers to the system that’ll arrive shortly after ourselves. We’ll just have to make do.
“The system is in this sector and there are no more ships scheduled out this way for a couple of years but it seems the astronomers are in something of a hurry.” He paused before bringing that other boot down. “Their analysis suggests that this could be a fertile planet. A very fertile planet. From their observations it is conceivable that it may hold more life than Earth itself.”
This extraordinary announcement elicited another buzz of conversation and the Captain waited it out. In the fifty years since the advent of interstellar travel, life had only been found on a dozen planets. In most cases nothing more complex than single celled microbes. On just five of those planets multicellular life had been found and of those only two had anything that could be described as higher order life; sparse flora and fauna eking out an existence in what were, compared to Earth, hopelessly hostile environments. If they really had found a planet as fertile as Earth, Sam could well understand the excitement.
“We estimate it will take an extra two months, more or less,” he glanced at Burton who nodded, “and IS are prepared to pay triple rates right up to the moment we are docked back in Earth orbit. In addition, assuming the boffins have got it right, there should be ample opportunities for discovery bonuses.”
As the Captain invited questions, Sam’s sleep fuddled brain tuned out. It didn’t matter; he knew his shipmates well enough and he knew what the decision would be. He began mentally composing a message of apology to his family back home.
Later, as he wandered down the short corridors back to his cabin and bed, he considered the implications of that decision for him. The Searcher carried only two scientists: Joe Simkins, the exoplanetologist, and Ruth Farmer, the astronomer. Exolife was sufficiently uncommon that few survey ships carried any kind of life scientist and Searcher was no exception. Sam, as usual, would be expected to fill that gap. Responsible for IT, his duties covered everything from Nety, the main ship’s computer, to all the sensors, probes and recording systems used by the scientists, as well as all the acquisition, analysis and modelling of the planetary data. And he was also expected to fill in on any science areas not covered by those two. He began planning a study schedule for himself. For Sam, at least, it was going to be a busy trip to this planet.
So I'm not terribly happy with it yet.I do have some specific concerns:
1. Too much exposition/narration? Not enough action/dialogue?
2. Have I broken the Captain's speech up too much with background?
3. Does it need more description?
4. And this is the biggest, I'm not convinced that it is any good as an opening scene or could easily be made so. Yet it is a logical place to start. I could start earlier as they begin the journey home but, whilst that might be okay for a book, I feel it would make too long an introduction for a short story. Alternatively I could maybe make it a flash back as they are coming land on the new planet.
Anyway here it is:
The mess was the only room large enough to hold the entire ship’s complement. Just. And, arriving late, Sam Jennings had to do a bit of squeezing and shoving to establish a space for himself. Such meetings were rare in the course of a survey tour and, in the buzz of conversation around him, he could hear the ship’s rumour mill overflowing with speculation.
The arrival of Captain Jim Bell and Paul Burton, his First Officer, brought an abrupt hush. The Captain eased his large frame through the press of bodies and stood with his back to the bar; Burton to his side. His steady gaze took in all twelve members of the crew. He did not appear happy.
“I am aware that for some this should be your sleep period and I do apologise.”
Sam grunted. That was exactly why he had been late and his mind had not yet fully caught up with his body.
“Although we are headed for home,” the Captain continued, “we are still under Operational Command. I am waving that for this matter; a rapid decision is required and it is more appropriate to a shareholder vote than a command decision.”
A renewed speculative murmur arose at this. Everyone present had shares in the Searcher, however few -- it had always been a requirement for joining the crew -- and, when not operational, major decisions were always made by shareholder vote. However, until they reached Earth, another couple of weeks away, they should still be operating under the strict hierarchical Operational Command.
“It’s been a long, hard tour and I know you’re all looking forward to getting home.”
That should have come with a smile, but no, and that worried Sam. He saw the same concern mirrored in the faces around him. At six months this tour had been double the usual length and, without a single hospitable planetfall, they had all spent altogether too long breathing canned air, packed like so many sardines into a space barely big enough to maintain sanity. Sam waited for the other boot to fall.
“I’m sure rumours have been flying around about the remote courier waiting for us as we came out of hyper yesterday.” A few wry chuckles ran through the assembly. “Well, Interstellar Survey has asked us to do a little detour.”
The voice of the Engineer’s Mate, Dave Smith rose above the predictable grumble of protest. “No way, Captain. Six months out and they want us to do more. That might be all well and good on one of those luxury liners they call IS survey ships, but the Searcher just isn’t big enough for such an extended tour.”
“Dave, I sympathise and feel much the same. However, they have only asked, they cannot command. That is what we must decide now.” He glanced around; every eye in the room was fixed on him.
“The IS astronomers have found an interesting new planet and they want us to take a look.”
“Excuse me, Captain,” Sam put in over the renewed babble of complaints, “we used the last of our remote survey probes at WK2263, our hold has no space for any more samples and we have no remote couriers left. Exactly what kind of survey do they expect us to achieve?”
“Yes, I know, Sam, and to be fair so do IS. They only want a preliminary survey, to establish exactly what will be needed for a full one. I know you can do wonderful things with just the shipboard sensors and the shuttle can be adapted. IS are sending a couple of remote couriers to the system that’ll arrive shortly after ourselves. We’ll just have to make do.
“The system is in this sector and there are no more ships scheduled out this way for a couple of years but it seems the astronomers are in something of a hurry.” He paused before bringing that other boot down. “Their analysis suggests that this could be a fertile planet. A very fertile planet. From their observations it is conceivable that it may hold more life than Earth itself.”
This extraordinary announcement elicited another buzz of conversation and the Captain waited it out. In the fifty years since the advent of interstellar travel, life had only been found on a dozen planets. In most cases nothing more complex than single celled microbes. On just five of those planets multicellular life had been found and of those only two had anything that could be described as higher order life; sparse flora and fauna eking out an existence in what were, compared to Earth, hopelessly hostile environments. If they really had found a planet as fertile as Earth, Sam could well understand the excitement.
“We estimate it will take an extra two months, more or less,” he glanced at Burton who nodded, “and IS are prepared to pay triple rates right up to the moment we are docked back in Earth orbit. In addition, assuming the boffins have got it right, there should be ample opportunities for discovery bonuses.”
As the Captain invited questions, Sam’s sleep fuddled brain tuned out. It didn’t matter; he knew his shipmates well enough and he knew what the decision would be. He began mentally composing a message of apology to his family back home.
Later, as he wandered down the short corridors back to his cabin and bed, he considered the implications of that decision for him. The Searcher carried only two scientists: Joe Simkins, the exoplanetologist, and Ruth Farmer, the astronomer. Exolife was sufficiently uncommon that few survey ships carried any kind of life scientist and Searcher was no exception. Sam, as usual, would be expected to fill that gap. Responsible for IT, his duties covered everything from Nety, the main ship’s computer, to all the sensors, probes and recording systems used by the scientists, as well as all the acquisition, analysis and modelling of the planetary data. And he was also expected to fill in on any science areas not covered by those two. He began planning a study schedule for himself. For Sam, at least, it was going to be a busy trip to this planet.
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