Welcome to weekend writing warriors. Many fine authors, and me, contribute short snippets for your delectation.
I was getting a bit stuck with Regency fiction, and decided to try hard SF. Swords and spaceships, no rayguns (yet), but plenty of action and as long as I’m logically consistent I don’t have to worry about historical accuracy (which is problematic as even the authorities disagree about what it was really like).
It seems to be working, the words are (so far) flying off my fingers (I crossed 40k last night) and into the book.
In any case, here’s the start – a new midshipman is having her first session of weapons training on her first ship. Her instructor is not exactly impressed. Last week’s snippet skips ahead a few paragraphs from the one before. It’s after she’s finished her training for the day. The discussion of Scotland from last week is replaced by the ceremonies for the first jump of the mission.
“Be upstanding!” The main hall echoed from the sounds of chairs scratching on the floor.
The captain, Mister Campbell despite her gender, experienced enough to have a lined face and gray short hair, strode to the front of the assembled crew.
“Serapis,” She shouted, “We’ve nearly cleared Sol’s mass.”
Terry remembered her navigation, engines full-blast for a week, vectored out of the ecliptic plane, away from the sun’s proper motion in the galaxy.
“And,” Mr Campbell continued, “It’s time for our first jump.”
Terry stiffened; then noticed the other middy’s and a few of the crew looking
“But first,” the captain raised her glass, “A toast.”
Everyone picked up their glass. “Over the water, Mr Mullins,” one of the crew reminded Terry, “Swing it over the water.”
Terry set her glass down, and picked it up as she suggested.
Still remembering the rightful King after all these years. How an interplanetary, for that matter interstellar, civilization would govern itself is something of a problem. One, fortunately, that I don’t have to solve for this story. Given the difficulties in communication – where a mail packet would be the fastest method to send instructions – some sort of Federal system, possibly with appointed governors would be the answer.
Of course, that would require an enlightened central government, which didn’t work out so well for Great Britain in the 1770’s (or did, depending on your viewpoint). Hints for a sequel?
Dealing with gender is also an issue. I decided that Fleet, taking naval traditions seriously, calls everyone Mister.
Most SF writers forget that we, our entire solar system, is flying through space with a proper galactic velocity. The Terrans, having relatively primitive spacecraft, launch down stream and land upstream as it were.
I’ve put up a couple of things on instafreebie. The first is a short story, To Court a Dragon.