Sorry, guys. First time I've serially abused the board in a while.
There are character thoughts and what not included in this scene not shown below, so don't worry about the lack of exposition. It's also made the first section a little staccato.
What I'm wondering about is the landing itself -- within the realms of space opera possibility? The freighters refer to the ship the pov character is on and the flanking ones. The pov character is in the co-pilot's seat and, although a reasonably competent pilot, isn't skilled enough to undertake this sort of landing.
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The planet grew bigger, taking on its familiar orange-tinge, much faster than he’d have liked. Three flanking ships pulled away, each focused on their section of the great desert. An alarm sounded as the planet’s Space Control tried to make contact, but was flipped it to silent. The communicator flashed an angry red.
He leant forward, watching; already, ships would be mobilising in the port, to be joined by those based in the desert compound.
The ship’s engines screamed in protest at the speed of descent. His stomach dropped as the grav-regulator tried to adjust but couldn’t keep up. He swallowed nausea and kept his focus on the skies ahead, growing lighter as they streaked through the upper atmosphere. New alarms sounded, insistent and loud. They plummeted down, the ship shaking, his teeth rattling. Level out. Now.
The first ships emerged from the port; a small fleet of fighters, splitting into four, two targeted on each freighter. He pointed, the pilot nodded and pulled out of the descent to streak across the blurred desert beneath. The ship dropped lower, the speed it carried from space letting it outpace the fighters, but it wouldn’t be long until the distance closed.
“Salyn, Tarn, cover me.” The pilot's voice carried just the edge of worry.
“Coming round.”
Two of the freighters broke from their flight path, picking up the pursuing fighters. Laser-bolts flashed against the freighters’ shields, allowing their ship to pull away, leaving the dog-fight behind. The ship banked and slowed, but the planet was still coming at them much, much too fast.
“Brace. Touchdown in ten.”
He pulled the brace restraints across his body and crossed his arms, letting his seat pull him against it. His mouth was dry as the ship passed over the desert, churning up the sand. The pilot leaned forward, watching, watching.
“Nine.” The countdown started from the control panel. They were seventy feet above the desert at best. “Eight, seven, six…” Forty feet; oh, gods, get this over. “Five.”
He put his head down, and concentrated on his boots, but they weren’t much of a distraction in the midst of the alarms and the roaring noise from the engines.
“Four. Three. Two.”
Farran hit the landing command and thrust himself back in his seat, into the brace position, his brow beaded with sweat. “Hang on!”
The ship hit the ground, hard and shuddering. Reverse thrusters kicked in at full power, screaming in protest. More alarms sounded, lights flashed and blared; the ship may be equipped for space-to-ground landings, it didn’t have to like them. Finally, the ship came to a halt.
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There are character thoughts and what not included in this scene not shown below, so don't worry about the lack of exposition. It's also made the first section a little staccato.
What I'm wondering about is the landing itself -- within the realms of space opera possibility? The freighters refer to the ship the pov character is on and the flanking ones. The pov character is in the co-pilot's seat and, although a reasonably competent pilot, isn't skilled enough to undertake this sort of landing.
------------
The planet grew bigger, taking on its familiar orange-tinge, much faster than he’d have liked. Three flanking ships pulled away, each focused on their section of the great desert. An alarm sounded as the planet’s Space Control tried to make contact, but was flipped it to silent. The communicator flashed an angry red.
He leant forward, watching; already, ships would be mobilising in the port, to be joined by those based in the desert compound.
The ship’s engines screamed in protest at the speed of descent. His stomach dropped as the grav-regulator tried to adjust but couldn’t keep up. He swallowed nausea and kept his focus on the skies ahead, growing lighter as they streaked through the upper atmosphere. New alarms sounded, insistent and loud. They plummeted down, the ship shaking, his teeth rattling. Level out. Now.
The first ships emerged from the port; a small fleet of fighters, splitting into four, two targeted on each freighter. He pointed, the pilot nodded and pulled out of the descent to streak across the blurred desert beneath. The ship dropped lower, the speed it carried from space letting it outpace the fighters, but it wouldn’t be long until the distance closed.
“Salyn, Tarn, cover me.” The pilot's voice carried just the edge of worry.
“Coming round.”
Two of the freighters broke from their flight path, picking up the pursuing fighters. Laser-bolts flashed against the freighters’ shields, allowing their ship to pull away, leaving the dog-fight behind. The ship banked and slowed, but the planet was still coming at them much, much too fast.
“Brace. Touchdown in ten.”
He pulled the brace restraints across his body and crossed his arms, letting his seat pull him against it. His mouth was dry as the ship passed over the desert, churning up the sand. The pilot leaned forward, watching, watching.
“Nine.” The countdown started from the control panel. They were seventy feet above the desert at best. “Eight, seven, six…” Forty feet; oh, gods, get this over. “Five.”
He put his head down, and concentrated on his boots, but they weren’t much of a distraction in the midst of the alarms and the roaring noise from the engines.
“Four. Three. Two.”
Farran hit the landing command and thrust himself back in his seat, into the brace position, his brow beaded with sweat. “Hang on!”
The ship hit the ground, hard and shuddering. Reverse thrusters kicked in at full power, screaming in protest. More alarms sounded, lights flashed and blared; the ship may be equipped for space-to-ground landings, it didn’t have to like them. Finally, the ship came to a halt.
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