Deke
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Sep 7, 2021
- Messages
- 82
Here is the opening for the novel I am writing (working title). While I would of course appreciate a general critique, I am very interested in-
-Does the main character, Captain Alexander, feel well established and relatable?
-How is the pacing and worldbuilding? Am I throwing too much exposition at the reader too early? Too little?
-Do you find the opening compelling and feel yourself wanting to read more, or is the "hook" not there for you? (if you are not a fan of military s/f or space opera, then do not feel pressure to answer the question)
Elizabeth stared down at the gleaming blue and green marble that was Earth as her dropship skimmed the massive gun towers and service depots of the Luna Dockyards. The squat, powerful looking dropship cut silently through the inky black void, suspended over the rows of mighty Terran battleships in their docking cradles, massive, deadly looking sentinels sleeping peacefully in their births. Somewhere out here in this steel and graphene jungle of cranes, docks, and service depots was the culmination of decades of ceaseless devotion to a single goal, a ship of her own.
The two marine crew chiefs, imposing in their armored matte black and olive drab flight suits, looked down without comment from behind their wicked looking triple-barreled door guns as they passed over the seemingly endless fleet servicing facility in utter silence. To Elizabeth, they seemed to be carved from stone, like gargoyles one might find on some ancient building. She looked down at her lap, studying her gloved hands and thinking of her own unarmored naval flight suit that seemed flimsy by comparison.
The crew chiefs had, as was their odd tradition, left the cargo doors on either side of the cabin open, exposing them to the vacuum of space. One could ask them to close the doors and pressurize the cabin, but every time she had seen the subject broached on countless flights with different ships, pilots, and crews, like some deviant hive mind they would simply cite some mechanical issue or safety concern and politely but firmly refuse. So they flew on, sealed up in their flight suits, no one bothering to comment on sights they had all seen time and time again on their silent trip across the station.
Elizabeth did her best to temper the nervous energy that coursed through her veins but to no avail. She tapped her foot on the dropships scuffed, matte black steel deck plates, the nervous habit silent in the vacuum. She was lost in thought for a time as she reflected on her journey thus far. Her earliest memories were of reaching up to the sky, trying to take the stars into her hands and pull the ancient secrets from their icy grasp. Her mind was filled with the infinite possibilities of what could or might be. Humanity sat poised on the edge of a razor, ready to take their first trembling steps outside their home solar system. The great mass driver they had launched over two decades prior was less than a year from reaching Alpha Centauri, Earth’s closest neighboring star system, and once the great bridge gates were assembled and activated they would allow instant travel from one system to the next. The human race would then, for the first time, reach out and colonize planets surrounding a foreign star.
All of this flashed through her mind as the dropship’s pilot flew on towards the far edges of Luna Station. While the massive capital ships were clustered around the center of the station, the smaller destroyers and frigates were docked near the edges of the circular fleet servicing facility. Elizabeth was still lost in thought when she felt a hand lightly touch her shoulder. She glanced over to the crew chief that had tapped her, his expression unreadable beneath his helmet’s black, mirrored visor. He cleared his throat over the comm and pointed down.
"There she is ma'am." He pointed down at the hull of the frigate as it slid into view. Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat as she looked down like an adoring mother at her child. Her gaze traveled over the dark blue hull and the golden lettering that stamped out "TRS Horatius" on its bow. The sleek, angular frame gently sloped from the armored bow until it leveled off and flowed gracefully back to the engineering section and its four massive engines. Those technological marvels could provide enough thrust and acceleration to outrun anything the Terran Republic or its rival, the Martian Federation with their loose alliance of pirate city-states spread throughout the various moons of Sol’s outer planets, had ever put to space.
The pilot dipped the dropship to fly down and over the frigate, Elizabeth taking in every glorious detail. There were the rows of point defense cannons, perfectly spaced to provide a three hundred and sixty degree field of fire. The single railgun in its squat, hexagonal turret mounted on the top of the ship. The dozens of neatly arranged missile bay doors, their hatches closed and sealed. As the dropship dipped once more and flew towards the massive hangar bay door, they flew over pair of marine Raiders in their rugged, mechanized combat suits sprinting down the spine of the ship. Elizabeth watched, fascinated, as they nimbly lept over point defense cannons and raced down the length of the frigate.
She drank it all in, unable to tear her eyes away as they banked around the aft of the ship and glided silently towards the hangar bay. The massive bay door slid vertically open, revealing perfect lines of squat, ugly, marine dropships and the nimble, angular navy fighters secured on the deck below. Inside there were sailors and maintenance crews in their blue utility pressure suits working at a frenzied pace in the vacuum securing spacecraft, checking weapon systems, loading ordinance, and performing last minute insections.
The pilots expertly sat the craft down without so much as a bump before cycling the engines down to idle. The crew chief’s disconnected their gunner’s belts and hopped out, snapping to attention and saluting as Elizabeth stepped down. She returned the salute and paused to watch as the massive bay doors slid closed and large armored blast doors iris shut behind them before a great rush of air filled hangar. While in the vacuum the dropships antigrav engines had been a muffle background noise that warranted little thought, but now their piercing wail threatened to overwhelm her helmet's audio dampeners before the pilots completed their post flight checks and cycled them down.
edit: I have thick skin from too many years of abuse in the military, so feel free to let me know how you -really- feel
-Does the main character, Captain Alexander, feel well established and relatable?
-How is the pacing and worldbuilding? Am I throwing too much exposition at the reader too early? Too little?
-Do you find the opening compelling and feel yourself wanting to read more, or is the "hook" not there for you? (if you are not a fan of military s/f or space opera, then do not feel pressure to answer the question)
Chapter 1
Elizabeth stared down at the gleaming blue and green marble that was Earth as her dropship skimmed the massive gun towers and service depots of the Luna Dockyards. The squat, powerful looking dropship cut silently through the inky black void, suspended over the rows of mighty Terran battleships in their docking cradles, massive, deadly looking sentinels sleeping peacefully in their births. Somewhere out here in this steel and graphene jungle of cranes, docks, and service depots was the culmination of decades of ceaseless devotion to a single goal, a ship of her own.
The two marine crew chiefs, imposing in their armored matte black and olive drab flight suits, looked down without comment from behind their wicked looking triple-barreled door guns as they passed over the seemingly endless fleet servicing facility in utter silence. To Elizabeth, they seemed to be carved from stone, like gargoyles one might find on some ancient building. She looked down at her lap, studying her gloved hands and thinking of her own unarmored naval flight suit that seemed flimsy by comparison.
The crew chiefs had, as was their odd tradition, left the cargo doors on either side of the cabin open, exposing them to the vacuum of space. One could ask them to close the doors and pressurize the cabin, but every time she had seen the subject broached on countless flights with different ships, pilots, and crews, like some deviant hive mind they would simply cite some mechanical issue or safety concern and politely but firmly refuse. So they flew on, sealed up in their flight suits, no one bothering to comment on sights they had all seen time and time again on their silent trip across the station.
Elizabeth did her best to temper the nervous energy that coursed through her veins but to no avail. She tapped her foot on the dropships scuffed, matte black steel deck plates, the nervous habit silent in the vacuum. She was lost in thought for a time as she reflected on her journey thus far. Her earliest memories were of reaching up to the sky, trying to take the stars into her hands and pull the ancient secrets from their icy grasp. Her mind was filled with the infinite possibilities of what could or might be. Humanity sat poised on the edge of a razor, ready to take their first trembling steps outside their home solar system. The great mass driver they had launched over two decades prior was less than a year from reaching Alpha Centauri, Earth’s closest neighboring star system, and once the great bridge gates were assembled and activated they would allow instant travel from one system to the next. The human race would then, for the first time, reach out and colonize planets surrounding a foreign star.
All of this flashed through her mind as the dropship’s pilot flew on towards the far edges of Luna Station. While the massive capital ships were clustered around the center of the station, the smaller destroyers and frigates were docked near the edges of the circular fleet servicing facility. Elizabeth was still lost in thought when she felt a hand lightly touch her shoulder. She glanced over to the crew chief that had tapped her, his expression unreadable beneath his helmet’s black, mirrored visor. He cleared his throat over the comm and pointed down.
"There she is ma'am." He pointed down at the hull of the frigate as it slid into view. Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat as she looked down like an adoring mother at her child. Her gaze traveled over the dark blue hull and the golden lettering that stamped out "TRS Horatius" on its bow. The sleek, angular frame gently sloped from the armored bow until it leveled off and flowed gracefully back to the engineering section and its four massive engines. Those technological marvels could provide enough thrust and acceleration to outrun anything the Terran Republic or its rival, the Martian Federation with their loose alliance of pirate city-states spread throughout the various moons of Sol’s outer planets, had ever put to space.
The pilot dipped the dropship to fly down and over the frigate, Elizabeth taking in every glorious detail. There were the rows of point defense cannons, perfectly spaced to provide a three hundred and sixty degree field of fire. The single railgun in its squat, hexagonal turret mounted on the top of the ship. The dozens of neatly arranged missile bay doors, their hatches closed and sealed. As the dropship dipped once more and flew towards the massive hangar bay door, they flew over pair of marine Raiders in their rugged, mechanized combat suits sprinting down the spine of the ship. Elizabeth watched, fascinated, as they nimbly lept over point defense cannons and raced down the length of the frigate.
She drank it all in, unable to tear her eyes away as they banked around the aft of the ship and glided silently towards the hangar bay. The massive bay door slid vertically open, revealing perfect lines of squat, ugly, marine dropships and the nimble, angular navy fighters secured on the deck below. Inside there were sailors and maintenance crews in their blue utility pressure suits working at a frenzied pace in the vacuum securing spacecraft, checking weapon systems, loading ordinance, and performing last minute insections.
The pilots expertly sat the craft down without so much as a bump before cycling the engines down to idle. The crew chief’s disconnected their gunner’s belts and hopped out, snapping to attention and saluting as Elizabeth stepped down. She returned the salute and paused to watch as the massive bay doors slid closed and large armored blast doors iris shut behind them before a great rush of air filled hangar. While in the vacuum the dropships antigrav engines had been a muffle background noise that warranted little thought, but now their piercing wail threatened to overwhelm her helmet's audio dampeners before the pilots completed their post flight checks and cycled them down.
edit: I have thick skin from too many years of abuse in the military, so feel free to let me know how you -really- feel
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