NbDawn
Well-Known Member
I'm trying to write in deep-third point of view. However, most of my beta readers are demanding more detail. Does this pull it off? Does it grab your attention? Other critiques?
Chapter 1
All systems were normal—normal to the point of insipidness. Commander J.D. Hapker fought the urge to yawn. The warm beige of the starship’s bridge warped into a fuzzy canvas as his eyes lost focus. The stats and figures displayed on the broad viewscreen blurred into a monotonous haze. His heavy eyelids closed of their own volition.
He snapped rigidly straight in his chair and blinked rapidly. The room sharpened. Heat spread across his face as he glanced around.
Good. No one seemed to notice his lapse. Straight-backed officers sat at each of the six stations arrayed in a crescent at the front of the bridge—engrossed in their work, just as before. Their hands moved diligently along their consoles with the precision of industrial bots, though with an intelligence that even today’s technology couldn’t mimic. Only the best applicants were commissioned into the Prontaean Alliance fleet.
He sucked in a deep breath, letting his lungs expand his chest and stretch his back. He was their new chief commander and if he expected his career with the Prontaean Aliance to last much longer, he’d best not fall asleep on the job.
“Sir,” The communications officer’s tone struck through the lull. “We’re getting a distress signal from outside the Hellana system.”
J.D.’s reverie cleared away like a ship coming out of the gloominess of a dense nebula. Finally, something to break this endless traipse. He moved to rub his eyes but raked his fingers through his short hair instead. Best not make a bad impression.
“From who?” His voice came out louder than intended and with an edge of eagerness to it.
Lt. Brenson pressed the side of his half-bald head into the earpiece designed specifically for the unique inner and outer shape of his pointed ears. “It’s coming from a Tredon ship, Sir.”
J.D.’s skin prickled. Weeks of no activity along this border, and now I’m finally going to meet the infamous warriors I’d read so much about.
He tapped the comm on his console. “Captain, you’re needed on the bridge.” Again. “Lt. Commander Bracht, to the bridge.”
Lt. Brenson turned to him with a tilted head and wrinkled forehead. “Sir, the signal translation says they’re being pursued by the Grapnes.”
What the heck? This had to be the first. The galaxy’s fiercest warriors being chased by the vultures of the galaxy. Though his father had always said never judge a wolf by the actions of its pack, every Grapne he’d ever met was pretty much the same—sneaky and dishonest, yet fortunately not smart enough to be of any real threat.
So how’d they manage to get the Tredons running? “Locate the signal source and put it on the screen.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He’d never met a Tredon and hoped he never would. Tredon, from the word Tredahn, meaning to tread upon, his textbook had read. It started out as a nickname, but as the ancient Genshi culture grew through subjugation so did the name.
He shook his head. Mankind never seems to change. Despite being given a fresh start on hundreds of terraformed planets, the history of ancient Earth was destined to keep repeating itself with those bent on violent conquest. Only this time, instead of continents it was planets.
Don’t they get that violence creates more woes than it resolves? They were all human, after all. If only the Tredon culture was as enlightened as his own.
Captain Robert Arden entered the bridge with a solid and solemn gait. He stepped onto the upper platform and settled in the chair beside him.
“Report.” The captain’s dark beard covered most of his face, giving him a rough look despite being well groomed. Gray striped his temples like bars of iron and his eyes were like the bladed crystals of kyanite.
The captain’s rough tone made J.D.’s stomach do a flip. He’d served under harsh leaders before, but Captain Arden gripped his career by its heart. “A Tredon ship reports they’re being pursued by Grapnes.”
Captain Arden’s dark bushy brows twitched downward and a frown appeared through his full beard.
“I’ve called Lt. Commander Bracht to the bridge,” he added. His stomach did another somersault. The tension of dealing with a race of brutal warriors combined with the fear of failing his new captain was almost too much.
The captain acknowledged him with a slight head movement. “Do your scanners pick up a Grapne ship?” he asked Lt. Brenson.
The lieutenant reviewed the information on his console. “I do detect another ship, Sir.”
“Forward the coordinates to the helm.” Captain Arden’s tone was even and calm. “Jensin, set a course to intercept.”
Helm. Should I have told Brenson to send it to both the viewscreen and to Jensin? Every captain demanded a different level of initiative from his commanding officer and after three months with Captain Arden, he still had no idea what the man expected of him.
The ship jolted, indicating the Odyssey’s change of direction and speed. J.D. reflexively gripped the armrest of his chair. It didn’t matter how well the Odyssey crew maintained their inertial dampeners. He’d never be completely at ease with certain aspects of space travel.
The hulking form of the chief of security bombarded onto the bridge. Lt. Commander Bracht’s heavy boots clopped like those of a huge draft horse as he made his way to the tactical station on the captain’s other side. He landed in his chair with a thump. His face held an uncompromising expression.
J.D.’s stomach hardened. He’d encountered Rabnoshks on a number of occasions but only Lt. Commander Bracht seemed to embody every unpleasant stereotype he’d ever heard—loud and abrasive, limbs like tree trunks, and, most unsettling, front teeth filed to reveal a carnivorous snarl. His unruly blonde hair made him look wild. And his mustache hung like daggers on the side of his mouth.
Warrior or not, Bracht certainly wouldn’t have been his first choice as security chief. Or his second, third, or even last. But Captain Arden had a reputation for commissioning officers no one else wanted.
His gut twisted. He was one of those undesirables. Had he been given any other choice other than to resign, he never would have accepted Captain Arden’s offer to be his chief commander.
It could be worse. At least that’s what his father had said.
The front viewscreen switched from the displayed data to a single digitized image. Two dots moved rapidly towards a planet with the dot of their own ship still outside the solar system.
"Something isn’t right." It was a dumb thing to say, but something had to fill the silence of his thoughts.
The captain didn’t respond, not in sound or gesture. The man seemed as cool as ever.
J.D. suppressed another urge to fidget. Yep. Dumb. He thinks I’m an idiot. A year ago, he had the confidence to deal with anyone and any situation. He’d been the fleet’s most promising officer, moving up rapidly in the ranks and even receiving a medal. But ever since Kimpke…
He pushed his worries aside. He had more important things to deal with right now than the state of his career and whether or not he was making a bad impression on his new captain.
Chapter 1
All systems were normal—normal to the point of insipidness. Commander J.D. Hapker fought the urge to yawn. The warm beige of the starship’s bridge warped into a fuzzy canvas as his eyes lost focus. The stats and figures displayed on the broad viewscreen blurred into a monotonous haze. His heavy eyelids closed of their own volition.
He snapped rigidly straight in his chair and blinked rapidly. The room sharpened. Heat spread across his face as he glanced around.
Good. No one seemed to notice his lapse. Straight-backed officers sat at each of the six stations arrayed in a crescent at the front of the bridge—engrossed in their work, just as before. Their hands moved diligently along their consoles with the precision of industrial bots, though with an intelligence that even today’s technology couldn’t mimic. Only the best applicants were commissioned into the Prontaean Alliance fleet.
He sucked in a deep breath, letting his lungs expand his chest and stretch his back. He was their new chief commander and if he expected his career with the Prontaean Aliance to last much longer, he’d best not fall asleep on the job.
“Sir,” The communications officer’s tone struck through the lull. “We’re getting a distress signal from outside the Hellana system.”
J.D.’s reverie cleared away like a ship coming out of the gloominess of a dense nebula. Finally, something to break this endless traipse. He moved to rub his eyes but raked his fingers through his short hair instead. Best not make a bad impression.
“From who?” His voice came out louder than intended and with an edge of eagerness to it.
Lt. Brenson pressed the side of his half-bald head into the earpiece designed specifically for the unique inner and outer shape of his pointed ears. “It’s coming from a Tredon ship, Sir.”
J.D.’s skin prickled. Weeks of no activity along this border, and now I’m finally going to meet the infamous warriors I’d read so much about.
He tapped the comm on his console. “Captain, you’re needed on the bridge.” Again. “Lt. Commander Bracht, to the bridge.”
Lt. Brenson turned to him with a tilted head and wrinkled forehead. “Sir, the signal translation says they’re being pursued by the Grapnes.”
What the heck? This had to be the first. The galaxy’s fiercest warriors being chased by the vultures of the galaxy. Though his father had always said never judge a wolf by the actions of its pack, every Grapne he’d ever met was pretty much the same—sneaky and dishonest, yet fortunately not smart enough to be of any real threat.
So how’d they manage to get the Tredons running? “Locate the signal source and put it on the screen.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He’d never met a Tredon and hoped he never would. Tredon, from the word Tredahn, meaning to tread upon, his textbook had read. It started out as a nickname, but as the ancient Genshi culture grew through subjugation so did the name.
He shook his head. Mankind never seems to change. Despite being given a fresh start on hundreds of terraformed planets, the history of ancient Earth was destined to keep repeating itself with those bent on violent conquest. Only this time, instead of continents it was planets.
Don’t they get that violence creates more woes than it resolves? They were all human, after all. If only the Tredon culture was as enlightened as his own.
Captain Robert Arden entered the bridge with a solid and solemn gait. He stepped onto the upper platform and settled in the chair beside him.
“Report.” The captain’s dark beard covered most of his face, giving him a rough look despite being well groomed. Gray striped his temples like bars of iron and his eyes were like the bladed crystals of kyanite.
The captain’s rough tone made J.D.’s stomach do a flip. He’d served under harsh leaders before, but Captain Arden gripped his career by its heart. “A Tredon ship reports they’re being pursued by Grapnes.”
Captain Arden’s dark bushy brows twitched downward and a frown appeared through his full beard.
“I’ve called Lt. Commander Bracht to the bridge,” he added. His stomach did another somersault. The tension of dealing with a race of brutal warriors combined with the fear of failing his new captain was almost too much.
The captain acknowledged him with a slight head movement. “Do your scanners pick up a Grapne ship?” he asked Lt. Brenson.
The lieutenant reviewed the information on his console. “I do detect another ship, Sir.”
“Forward the coordinates to the helm.” Captain Arden’s tone was even and calm. “Jensin, set a course to intercept.”
Helm. Should I have told Brenson to send it to both the viewscreen and to Jensin? Every captain demanded a different level of initiative from his commanding officer and after three months with Captain Arden, he still had no idea what the man expected of him.
The ship jolted, indicating the Odyssey’s change of direction and speed. J.D. reflexively gripped the armrest of his chair. It didn’t matter how well the Odyssey crew maintained their inertial dampeners. He’d never be completely at ease with certain aspects of space travel.
The hulking form of the chief of security bombarded onto the bridge. Lt. Commander Bracht’s heavy boots clopped like those of a huge draft horse as he made his way to the tactical station on the captain’s other side. He landed in his chair with a thump. His face held an uncompromising expression.
J.D.’s stomach hardened. He’d encountered Rabnoshks on a number of occasions but only Lt. Commander Bracht seemed to embody every unpleasant stereotype he’d ever heard—loud and abrasive, limbs like tree trunks, and, most unsettling, front teeth filed to reveal a carnivorous snarl. His unruly blonde hair made him look wild. And his mustache hung like daggers on the side of his mouth.
Warrior or not, Bracht certainly wouldn’t have been his first choice as security chief. Or his second, third, or even last. But Captain Arden had a reputation for commissioning officers no one else wanted.
His gut twisted. He was one of those undesirables. Had he been given any other choice other than to resign, he never would have accepted Captain Arden’s offer to be his chief commander.
It could be worse. At least that’s what his father had said.
The front viewscreen switched from the displayed data to a single digitized image. Two dots moved rapidly towards a planet with the dot of their own ship still outside the solar system.
"Something isn’t right." It was a dumb thing to say, but something had to fill the silence of his thoughts.
The captain didn’t respond, not in sound or gesture. The man seemed as cool as ever.
J.D. suppressed another urge to fidget. Yep. Dumb. He thinks I’m an idiot. A year ago, he had the confidence to deal with anyone and any situation. He’d been the fleet’s most promising officer, moving up rapidly in the ranks and even receiving a medal. But ever since Kimpke…
He pushed his worries aside. He had more important things to deal with right now than the state of his career and whether or not he was making a bad impression on his new captain.
