Dear Chrons,
Please find my submission for critique.
Some of the themes I have considered are asked specifically at:
Temporarily child protagonists?
For reference, this is an opening chapter.
Regarding the critique, I am interested in any and whatever feedback people feel appropriate!
My apologies if I have missed a critique rule.
****
Collectively ruthless and individually ambitious the Solar System Trading Company had quickly spread throughout the stars. Diplomats, soldiers and merchants alike championed what would become human interests. For when the political power commanded by the organization outweighed that of sovereign planets, both the independence of those planets and the difference between the two ceased to be.
For the billions of citizens living in the new order, ambition was not fulfilled or stifled by nepotism unlike their alien democratic neighbors. Whilst the careers of most were tempered by natural ability, personality or life chances, in the absence of democracy the only limit to a citizens place in the universe was their natural ability and their education.
Tamara’s father: a professor in theoretical physics had taken over a decades’ paternity leave to prepare her for the thirteen plus selection exams. An ever popular mascot of the University corridors, the toddler and then child was gently spoiled by the many professors and technicians who came to know her. A quiet child; she would sit in the back of classes, sometimes to listen to her mother teach, but always to learn. She wouldn’t say much, but her work ethic and that of her father earned the respect of much of the physics faculty who in turn offered to teach the young student whatever they could.
As the day grew closer, the corridors grew quieter. Some staff wished her luck, others fretted that it was too much pressure at a young age grimacing at the memory of their own 13 plus. The Dean, with a child of his own a few years younger, clapped her on the shoulder and sent them on their way. If Tamara herself was concerned she didn’t show it. When staff spoke to her about it she just smiled and asked them again what they thought of whatever subject. The exams themselves were conducted off world, hosted by the Navy. As the day came, parents across the small colonial world made the pilgrimage to the continental spaceport where great shuttles awaited to ferry them into space.
Few children looked confident, some cried, others sat in nervous trepidation. By their nature quiet individuals, Tamara and her father sat calmly in a corner. If some children were repeating formula parrot fashion, desperately cramming in the last moments before the exam, such exercises were beyond her. She would either know it, or she wouldn’t. Instead, they cheerily discussed which theories to use as a basis or example in certain expected questions. The exercise itself wasn’t much more helpful than that of repeating facts. They knew which models she was most familiar with, but the exercise in physics was one they were both comfortable with and it helped the nerves.
Upon arrival the queue was long but fast moving, as students and parents lined up to enter. The Navy dressed in ceremonial sky blue escorted the students through to their desks. Tamara studied the setting with interest before speaking up.
“If these exams are for me, why are the Navy making such a fuss?”
“I don’t know darling.”
In truth he didn’t want to have a conversation, but he agreed that the Navy had pulled out all the stops. From the fighter craft flying escort to the shuttles to the gleaming ceremonial parade dress, the whole experience was meant to impress. At the front of the queue the Warrant Officer asked her name, took their form and ordered an awaiting Corporal to show her through. Despite having had over a decade to think about it he couldn’t think of what to say, words stuck in his throat as his only child slipped her hand from his, smiled up at him and followed the Corporal out of sight. He thought to message his wife and then the Dean before remembering that phones were prohibited on board, people had gone to prison for attempting to cheat the thirteen plus. He joined the other parents, remarking how nowhere else had he seen such a mix of people. Rich and poor, mining families and socialites alike rubbed shoulders united in that they were all parents. The opportunities they had had given their children notwithstanding, now it had all been said and done, the regional governor holding court in a corner with other anxious parents was as powerless as he was.
The Admiralty wasn’t going to waste this opportunity at a captive audience however, and as soon as the last child had taken his seat they were separated into groups and taken on a guided tour. The Warrant Officer spoke enthusiastically, expertly fielding questions and by and large the parents were distracted. The tour wasn’t just designed to distract however, it was to instill a sense of stability and protection. Everything was comparative, from human interceptors racing against confederation models to anecdotes from skirmishes, everything impressed human superiority. They may have been at peace, but you got the feeling someone had forgotten to tell the Navy.
Finally, his ‘class’ of forty were sat in a spacious hall where he could concentrate on the task of fretting unabated. The exam finished at 18:00 hours and sure enough by 18:05 students began milling in. Instead of his daughter however, he was greeted by a Major. “Professor Baum?”
“Yes Sir?”
“Professor, there is nothing to worry about, your daughter is perfectly safe. She has been selected for a viva secondary examination. Whilst I am not at liberty to discuss the specifics of the exam, I can state generally that you must be very proud.”
“No father isn’t Major” he replied nondescriptly.
“I always look forward to this day, I suppose that’s cruel of me, do you think?”
“In a way, I’ve looked forward to it for a very long time.”
“And that’s the point isn’t it. You can’t argue against money, but there are decent parents and there are those that arn’t. Every year I see parents from the poorest fields of life who have scraped and saved, clawed together every penny they’ve had, all to prepare their kid for the thirteen plus.”
“I thought you said you looked forward to today?” He replied dryly.
“I… have a respect for the process then.”
The Major led him through a different set of corridors, keeping the conversation flowing, trying to look nonchalant. “I hope I don’t sound sycophantic, but I read your book, many years ago. I had to check that you were the right author.”
“You must get to speak to a great deal of interesting people.” He replied neutrally, not missing the careful flattery.
“You’d be surprised” the Major remarked cheerfully, “there are a very many people who don’t live up to your expectations. It’s like I was saying, I think actions speak louder than words, don’t you? I fear that far too many don’t bother, once they’ve won the whatever award.”
“Well, I haven’t produced anything in thirteen years."
“Apart from that kid currently sitting in the Captain’s Office?”
“Well yes.”
If the first tour had been designed to give an impression of power and security, the second was more personal. The Major made it look impulsive, as if he had just thought to show him this state of the art gymnasium or that library but each room seemed chosen because it might make a parent feel more enthusiastically about their child joining the Navy.
“She’s done well hasn’t she?” He asked.
“I’ve been with you since she went in.”
He began to feel better, recognising the Major’s playful evasion for what it was. “In your experience then, how does she compare?”
“Between you and me, the way the Captain was raving about her, he’d have already given her, her own frigate if he could.”
“She’d like that.”
“I’ll speak to procurement, you can tell her.” He smiled.
The professor hestitated, truth be told he’d worried for the possible viva. He’d hoped that she wouldn’t need to take it, but for all his preparation he hadn’t known how the quiet mascot of the University would cope quizzed by stern officials. Nor had he known how enthusiastic the Navy’s public relation campaign could be.
The Major interrupted his musings, “I suppose you’d like to speak to her?”
He wondered if the man had been paged, or rather if the whole conversation was scripted.
“Yes of course.”
Please find my submission for critique.
Some of the themes I have considered are asked specifically at:
Temporarily child protagonists?
For reference, this is an opening chapter.
Regarding the critique, I am interested in any and whatever feedback people feel appropriate!
My apologies if I have missed a critique rule.
****
Collectively ruthless and individually ambitious the Solar System Trading Company had quickly spread throughout the stars. Diplomats, soldiers and merchants alike championed what would become human interests. For when the political power commanded by the organization outweighed that of sovereign planets, both the independence of those planets and the difference between the two ceased to be.
For the billions of citizens living in the new order, ambition was not fulfilled or stifled by nepotism unlike their alien democratic neighbors. Whilst the careers of most were tempered by natural ability, personality or life chances, in the absence of democracy the only limit to a citizens place in the universe was their natural ability and their education.
Tamara’s father: a professor in theoretical physics had taken over a decades’ paternity leave to prepare her for the thirteen plus selection exams. An ever popular mascot of the University corridors, the toddler and then child was gently spoiled by the many professors and technicians who came to know her. A quiet child; she would sit in the back of classes, sometimes to listen to her mother teach, but always to learn. She wouldn’t say much, but her work ethic and that of her father earned the respect of much of the physics faculty who in turn offered to teach the young student whatever they could.
As the day grew closer, the corridors grew quieter. Some staff wished her luck, others fretted that it was too much pressure at a young age grimacing at the memory of their own 13 plus. The Dean, with a child of his own a few years younger, clapped her on the shoulder and sent them on their way. If Tamara herself was concerned she didn’t show it. When staff spoke to her about it she just smiled and asked them again what they thought of whatever subject. The exams themselves were conducted off world, hosted by the Navy. As the day came, parents across the small colonial world made the pilgrimage to the continental spaceport where great shuttles awaited to ferry them into space.
Few children looked confident, some cried, others sat in nervous trepidation. By their nature quiet individuals, Tamara and her father sat calmly in a corner. If some children were repeating formula parrot fashion, desperately cramming in the last moments before the exam, such exercises were beyond her. She would either know it, or she wouldn’t. Instead, they cheerily discussed which theories to use as a basis or example in certain expected questions. The exercise itself wasn’t much more helpful than that of repeating facts. They knew which models she was most familiar with, but the exercise in physics was one they were both comfortable with and it helped the nerves.
Upon arrival the queue was long but fast moving, as students and parents lined up to enter. The Navy dressed in ceremonial sky blue escorted the students through to their desks. Tamara studied the setting with interest before speaking up.
“If these exams are for me, why are the Navy making such a fuss?”
“I don’t know darling.”
In truth he didn’t want to have a conversation, but he agreed that the Navy had pulled out all the stops. From the fighter craft flying escort to the shuttles to the gleaming ceremonial parade dress, the whole experience was meant to impress. At the front of the queue the Warrant Officer asked her name, took their form and ordered an awaiting Corporal to show her through. Despite having had over a decade to think about it he couldn’t think of what to say, words stuck in his throat as his only child slipped her hand from his, smiled up at him and followed the Corporal out of sight. He thought to message his wife and then the Dean before remembering that phones were prohibited on board, people had gone to prison for attempting to cheat the thirteen plus. He joined the other parents, remarking how nowhere else had he seen such a mix of people. Rich and poor, mining families and socialites alike rubbed shoulders united in that they were all parents. The opportunities they had had given their children notwithstanding, now it had all been said and done, the regional governor holding court in a corner with other anxious parents was as powerless as he was.
The Admiralty wasn’t going to waste this opportunity at a captive audience however, and as soon as the last child had taken his seat they were separated into groups and taken on a guided tour. The Warrant Officer spoke enthusiastically, expertly fielding questions and by and large the parents were distracted. The tour wasn’t just designed to distract however, it was to instill a sense of stability and protection. Everything was comparative, from human interceptors racing against confederation models to anecdotes from skirmishes, everything impressed human superiority. They may have been at peace, but you got the feeling someone had forgotten to tell the Navy.
Finally, his ‘class’ of forty were sat in a spacious hall where he could concentrate on the task of fretting unabated. The exam finished at 18:00 hours and sure enough by 18:05 students began milling in. Instead of his daughter however, he was greeted by a Major. “Professor Baum?”
“Yes Sir?”
“Professor, there is nothing to worry about, your daughter is perfectly safe. She has been selected for a viva secondary examination. Whilst I am not at liberty to discuss the specifics of the exam, I can state generally that you must be very proud.”
“No father isn’t Major” he replied nondescriptly.
“I always look forward to this day, I suppose that’s cruel of me, do you think?”
“In a way, I’ve looked forward to it for a very long time.”
“And that’s the point isn’t it. You can’t argue against money, but there are decent parents and there are those that arn’t. Every year I see parents from the poorest fields of life who have scraped and saved, clawed together every penny they’ve had, all to prepare their kid for the thirteen plus.”
“I thought you said you looked forward to today?” He replied dryly.
“I… have a respect for the process then.”
The Major led him through a different set of corridors, keeping the conversation flowing, trying to look nonchalant. “I hope I don’t sound sycophantic, but I read your book, many years ago. I had to check that you were the right author.”
“You must get to speak to a great deal of interesting people.” He replied neutrally, not missing the careful flattery.
“You’d be surprised” the Major remarked cheerfully, “there are a very many people who don’t live up to your expectations. It’s like I was saying, I think actions speak louder than words, don’t you? I fear that far too many don’t bother, once they’ve won the whatever award.”
“Well, I haven’t produced anything in thirteen years."
“Apart from that kid currently sitting in the Captain’s Office?”
“Well yes.”
If the first tour had been designed to give an impression of power and security, the second was more personal. The Major made it look impulsive, as if he had just thought to show him this state of the art gymnasium or that library but each room seemed chosen because it might make a parent feel more enthusiastically about their child joining the Navy.
“She’s done well hasn’t she?” He asked.
“I’ve been with you since she went in.”
He began to feel better, recognising the Major’s playful evasion for what it was. “In your experience then, how does she compare?”
“Between you and me, the way the Captain was raving about her, he’d have already given her, her own frigate if he could.”
“She’d like that.”
“I’ll speak to procurement, you can tell her.” He smiled.
The professor hestitated, truth be told he’d worried for the possible viva. He’d hoped that she wouldn’t need to take it, but for all his preparation he hadn’t known how the quiet mascot of the University would cope quizzed by stern officials. Nor had he known how enthusiastic the Navy’s public relation campaign could be.
The Major interrupted his musings, “I suppose you’d like to speak to her?”
He wondered if the man had been paged, or rather if the whole conversation was scripted.
“Yes of course.”
