The Bright And Hollow Sky

[reiver33]

This is part three of a long-term background project, and please see the related thread in the Workshop on 'Rotating PoV'.

One

Hanging in space, waiting to die.

Not that I would have been so pessimistic in front of the crew, of course, but we’d lost every encounter with the Dream to date, and it spoke volumes as to our depleted strength that the Admiralty could only spare four ships to cover yet another hurried evacuation. Four ships; my light cruiser (the Pandora), a destroyer (the Solstice) and two so-called ‘fleet auxiliaries’ – commercial towing vehicles hauling one-shot multiple missile batteries. I’d been given the grandiose of ‘acting Commodore’ and had to chew out three crew members before it was quietly dropped in favour of plain old ‘Captain Lane’.

Four ships, hiding out in the rings of the gas giant nearest to Magdalene Station, waiting to ambush an anticipated Dream attack force which numbered in the hundreds. We hung there, minimum power, silent as the grave, and waited.

“Thirteen-hundred comms check, Captain.”

Jenkins, his nasal Aussie inflections flattened by the cheap headphones in my helmet.

“Anything new?”

“The evac is going, quote, as planned, unquote, but from the civilian chatter its complete chaos down there. There are still a couple of unidentified freighters in high orbit, ignoring all comms. Probably waiting until the last moment so they can really jack the price up for a place on board.”

I sighed and changed position, my suit creaking against the seat harness, the sterile taste of filtered air in my throat.

“That’s a local problem. Maintain radio silence, no acknowledgement.”

We were all suited up and the ship depressurised in expectation of taking through-and-through hits, as the standard Dream strike craft carried some form of needle-point mass-driver, a smaller version of the spinal mount aboard the Solstice. The Pandora was a missile cruiser, supposedly a ‘ship killer’, although there should have been three or four of us plus a battlewagon on hand to keep the bad guys occupied.

Bridge illumination was cut to a minimum, the other crew members anonymous behind opaque faceplates, just bulky shapes of light and shadow in the warm glow of electronics. We’d been like this for almost seventeen hours, tethered to the ship by umbilicals which kept the suit environment systems fully charged, eating and sleeping where we sat. I knew it couldn’t go on like this much longer; despite the ‘imminent’ threat as assessed by Fleet Intel I’d have to stand-down the crew by watches, bring some of the systems on-line and let them out, let them stretch, let them bitch in the galley over hot, proper food – a last taste of what it meant to be human.

I took another stimulant to stay frosty and brought up the system schematic on my helmet display, looking for any way to improve our tactical situation. Four ships plus a scattering of surveillance drones; a couple of not-too-obvious gaps in the sensor net laced with the paltry number of proximity mines available. Magdalene Station itself only had a few point-defence batteries and three Customs cutters, which I hadn’t bothered to place under my command. I didn’t envy the station authorities though; it would soon become apparent to the civilian population that there simply wasn’t enough carrying capacity on the rag-tag assembly of merchantmen drafted in at short notice. They’d asked for a Marine detachment to bolster local law enforcement but I’d declined, knowing it would be well-nigh impossible to evacuate my men once the shooting started – plus Sergeant Squires and his lads weren’t exactly cut out for crowd control at the best of times.

“Possible jump point detected, sector seven-fifteen-three, system relative.”

The voice startled me; despite being too wired to rest I’d sunk into some kind of contemplative doze. I cleared my throat and returned to the here-and-now.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Miss Hughes, ‘possible’ won’t cut it, I’m afraid.”

I could almost hear her blushing and experienced a twinge of regret at having to play the ‘hard bastard’ card at every opportunity since we shipped out, but there were too many unfamiliar faces for me to spend time establishing an air of authority.

“Sorry sir, awaiting confirmation and triangulation from station sensors and source Alpha.”

Tick-tock.

When she spoke again there was an obvious nervous excitement in her voice.

“Confirmation received, Captain. The distortion effect indicates a Dream warship, assault carrier class.”

Pretty much what I’d expected, but it would be nice to be wrong sometimes.

“Comms – alert the squadron; micro-burst, tight-band. XO?”

“Sir”

Vought, who always sounded like he found everything slightly amusing, even this.

“Prepare for a main engine restart.”

“Reactor to standby, aye sir.”

I cut the link and took a few deep breaths before continuing.

“Mr Vought, arm and load all nuclear weapons.”

“I concur, Captain. Nuclear protocol is in effect.”

And after that brief flurry of activity…we waited.

Not that long, though, indicating that the artificial wormhole created by their carrier was linked to a relatively near-by system.

Close, but no cigar. Still no hint as to their base of operations and this mythical ‘command carrier’ Fleet Intel was so desperate to find.

“Distortion wave detected. Long-range telemetry from Magdalene Station estimates two-hundred-plus enemy ships have emerged from the wormhole. Estimated time to optimal firing point…seventeen minutes.”

“Helm, take us up above the rings. Slowly now. “

Not, strictly speaking, necessary, as we’d be able to track the enemy via remote sensors until one side or the other was destroyed, but I wanted to see them, get a visual on this near anonymous foe who wiped out every human being they encountered.

I wanted to look Death in the face, and laugh.

[pyan]

A couple of things, on a first read-through, reiver:

the sterile taste of filtered air in my nostrils.

either taste - mouth or smell - nostrils?

And I prefer ship's names in italics (...my light cruiser (the Pandora), a destroyer (the Solstice...)

Good hook, though - four against two hundred plus. and told in the first person, too...

[gary compton]

I loved this Reiver, it was descriptive and well written. I've been messing around with 1st person myself and I think it works well here. Well done!!

I'm not really that qualified to nit-pick, I'll leave that to others but I enjoyed it.

[reiver33]

Two

The swarm of Dream strike craft were back-lit by the other gas giant in the Magdalene system, the two planets locked in a game of orbital tag and occasionally coming close enough to bleed ring debris from our current hiding place.

A great cloud of dark-grey ships, constantly changing formation as they surged towards the station, like a swirl of ink thrown into still water.

“Sir! Captain Foy is requesting authorisation to fire roundshot at the enemy carrier.”

I smiled, despite the trickle of sweat down my back and the hard knot of apprehension in the pit of my stomach. The Solstice was primarily a flak ship, designed to keep the ‘high value units’ viable for as long as possible by intercepting enemy fire. So as not to be seen as entirely passive, if only by her crew, she also carried a large calibre rail-gun, really only suited for close range engagements. Despite its tactical limitations I knew that Foy was keen to strike at the Dream, having lost family and friends when New France was overrun, and if nothing else it might draw some enemy defensive fire.

“Inform Captain Foy that the Solstice will have the honour of opening the engagement, on my command. Mr Vought?”

“Sir.”

“Remote control check with our two civilians?”

“Confirmed, sir. Launch and guidance are slaved to our fire control.”

“Very well, have them detach from the towing platforms and withdraw. Give them our thanks and wish them God’s speed.”

I shifted in my chair, trying to find a marginally less uncomfortable position even though it was probably the combination of fatigue and stimulants which made my very bones ache.

Showtime.

“Bring main power on-line. Active sensors, Miss Hughes, I want our own confirmation of that carrier’s position. Jenkins?”

“Sir.”

“Inform Captain Foy he may fire at will. Mr Vought, commence missile launch as soon as the platforms complete their reorientation.”

I flicked to ship-wide transmission.

“All hands, this is the Captain. We have engaged the enemy and can expect some close attention in the near future. Secure all stations and set condition one throughout the ship. This is no drill. Captain out.”

I called up an external visual in time to see a blue flash from the bow of the Solstice as it launched a projectile the size of a small shuttle in the direction of the distant Dream carrier. The chance of success was akin to throwing a bowling ball down a kilometre-long alley, but I knew the effort would lift their spirits, if only in the short term.

“Platform launch sequence underway, Captain.”

“Thank you, Mr Vought. Ready single ship-to-ship missile for firing.”

Immediately a small light started blinking in my peripheral vision, indicating a secure comms request. I opened the channel, knowing it would be Vought.

“Yes?”

“A single missile? What other priority targets do we have apart from the assault carrier?”

“None, but I’ve received word from the Admiralty not to expect any further resupply from fleet tenders. Local resources will have to do from now on.”

He said nothing but I could hear the unspoken ‘And why are you telling me this only now?’, backed up with a blank-faceplate of reproach.

“Sorry Jon, sealed orders, ‘Captain’s eyes only’ and all that crap. Look, if the first missile doesn’t get through then I very much doubt a second or third would either, and we have to plan ahead.”

The channel went dead and our public exchange resumed.

“Confirmed, sir. Single ship-to-ship missile ready for firing.”

“I want a ten second gap between the last platform launch and ours. I want our missile tucked in close behind the shoal, as neat as you can manage. Do-“

“Sir! Telemetry indicates that some ninety enemy craft have broken formation and are heading in our direction.”

Damn, but that was quick. I’d counted on sensor backwash from the gas giant to hide our firing until the missiles cleared the rings, at least. Still, it wasn’t their entire force and I hoped a fair proportion would double back to protect the carrier when the real target became apparent.

“Captain, there’s a lot of activity around the station. Multiple ships are un-docking and it appears the two large unidentified freighters have broken orbit.”

“One less thing for us to worry about, Miss Hughes. Continue monitoring the situation but I only need an update if it affects our tactical situation.”

It would be Hellish down there, aboard Magdalene Station, as the access doors closed and the remaining civilians saw their salvation backed away from the docking ring. If truth be told there was never any realistic chance of saving them all; this was just another attempt to make the Dream pay so dearly that they would give pause, maybe even respond to our attempts at communication.

“Aye, sir, but those two freighters are now heading towards the enemy and they’ve launched several small craft in that direction as well.”

I sighed and swore under my breath. Bloody civilians, they’ll be the death of me yet.

“Thank you, Miss Hughes. Mr Jenkins, try and raise them and if that fails send a transponder signal ‘You are standing into danger’. Other than that they’re on their own. Mr Vought!”

“Sir! The shoal missiles are in Deadfall mode, ETA with the target is eleven minutes twenty seconds. Telemetry signal strength is strong and we have achieved a ninety-three percent launch rate. Our ship-to-ship missile is in stealth mode and the chance of detection is minimal.”

“Ah, Captain?”

“Yes, Mr Jenkins?”

“I’m picking up a transmission from those small craft heading towards the main enemy formation.”

“Well, what are they saying?”

“Ah, well, it’s not so much speech as, ah, singing.”

“Singing?”

“Singing, from each craft, in harmony.”

I really didn’t need this but there was something at the back of my mind, something from an old Admiralty intelligence briefing that gave me pause.

“Patch it through.”

There was a whisper of electronics and a garble of voices, clearing.

“…the final conflict. Let each stand in his place. The international soviet. Shall be the human race. ‘Tis…”

I groaned, inwardly; it was the bloody Anarchist League, and suddenly life was a lot more complicated.

[fkatona]

There's really not much for me to critique, as this is pretty good, so strong work! The concept in the other POV threat is intriguing, and I'm curious to see what you do with it in this story. And I love the title for some reason.

Keep it up!

[HareBrain]

Ah, this takes me back to the many happy days I wasted playing Homeworld.

I agree this is very good, and wholly convincing. I think a lot of its success comes from the use of first-person, which you do very well. In particular, it gives you a great benefit in introducing a complex situation, because the narrator doesn't have to relate the events in "real-time"; he can reflect on them from his later perspective (though he shouldn't do it to the extent of slowing down the pace). Trying to rewrite the same introduction in third-person would bring in quite difficult POV issues - either you'd need a god-like narrator to introduce all the background and technical details, or, if you have a close-in third-person POV, you'd have difficulty balancing the amount of info given (and justification for the character "thinking about" it at that time) with the pace of the story. Your first-person avoids all that.

And I really liked the two-word paragraph "Tick tock" to indicate the passing of time (and it also tells us something about the narrator). Anything written in 3rd person to get across the same information could only seem overwordy and dull by comparison.

I don't think I've ever read a space-battle told from 1st-person POV (though I don't read much SF) - I think it works very well. Keep it up!

[Nik]

This is good.

FWIW, you've just hulled my faltering attempt to resume the Convention space-war...
{Weep.}

[reiver33]

I find it slightly strange that first person would be uncommon in this type of narrative - I would have thought that the 'claustrophobia of combat' suited a personal perspective, but there you go!


Three

The Human Anarchist League, as they now called themselves since the Dream appeared in known space, and they were a right royal pain in the a***. They’d been top of the Admiralty hit-list for years; stirring up trouble on those worlds which required strict government, supporting secessionist sentiment amongst the richer colonies and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

These rag-tag revolutionaries were based on a handful of pirated freighters and obsolete support craft, although their continued ability to evade a military confrontation indicated some degree of covert support from those corporations opposed to Heimat regulation, although the irony was probably lost on them.

They had declared themselves ‘co-belligerents’ in the war against the Dream, although their haphazard assistance to date had ranged from the vaguely useful to outright annoying, and I didn’t have time to mollycoddle them in the face of a major attack.

“Shut off that babble, Mr Jenkins, and ignore all further transmissions from those vessels. It’s the HAL, ladies and gentlemen, so count your blessings we’re not depending on them. Miss Hughes, any change in the enemy deployments?”

“Still tracking ninety-four closing on our location and one hundred plus heading towards Magdalene Station. That, ah, choir, sir, is right on top of the main enemy formation and shows no sign of…wait, just a moment. I’m detecting FTL signatures from all seven HAL scouts, although I wouldn’t expect ships that small to be jump-capable. Surely they can’t carry enough shielding to protect the crew?”

I’d thought the HAL had simply planned to ram an equal number of Dream strike craft, as they’d developed a taste for suicide bombings prior to the war, but this was altogether more inventive. An unshielded FTL drive would kill the crew, just as surely as a high-impact collision, but attempting to jump in close proximity to a large mass was really going to spread the grief around.

“Sir, the enemy are firing on the HAL but I detect four, no, five jump events.”

“What effect has this had? Quickly now!”

“Sorry sir, just waiting for the distortion wave to clear…I estimate forty to fifty enemy craft have been destroyed or disabled. The remainder are still closing with the station. There’s no sign of the HAL scouts amongst the debris field.”

Mad bastards, but I’d raise a glass to them the next chance I got. Although that wouldn’t necessarily be in this lifetime the way things were looking.

“Mr Vought, status?”

“Unchanged from a few moments ago, Captain. Still no sign the enemy have detected our missiles, either that or they simply don’t-“

“Enemy movement, sir! Fifty to sixty strike craft from the formation headed our way have broken off and are vectoring towards our missiles.”

Vought laughed, although there was little humour in his voice.

“Me and my big mouth! Based on the estimated position, course and speed of our ordinance I’d say the Dream will intercept in approximately four minutes ten seconds. Still way outside the effective range of a strike on the carrier. Orders?”

I badly wanted to drum my fingers on the arm of my seat but the armoured gauntlets made that too laboured and awkward. Instead I took a deep breath and scanned the tactical overlay.

“What’s the enemy approach aspect?”

Vought paused, obviously running a scenario projection through tactical analysis.

“They’ll approach our missiles from dead astern, Captain, as what secondary armament their strike craft carry is forward-firing, clustered round the nose. The prediction is for an initial concentrated attack followed by dispersal to avoid damage from our warhead detonations, then a series of standard strike-and-withdraw manoeuvres by squadron. I estimate less than fifteen percent of our missiles will reach the enemy carrier. However, of a more immediate concern is the remaining enemy force, which will be within firing range in under two minutes.”

“Sir, the Solstice is signalling ‘Time to put up the umbrella’. Do you wish me to acknowledge?”

Right on cue.

“No need, Mr Jenkins. Helm, make sure we keep the Solstice between us and the enemy. That’s the shield in place, Mr Vought, now, how’s our sword?”

“All batteries stand ready, sir. I estimate the Solstice can maintain its flak barrage for no more than six minutes at maximum rate.”

“Very well, open fire once it’s fully formed. I don’t know how long we can depend upon telemetry from other sources and without it we’ll be as blind as the enemy.”

It would look good though; a wall of continuous detonations from explosive rounds designed to frag incoming missiles and blind sensors. About as much use as a wet paper bag against the hyper-velocity kinetic crap the Dream favoured but at least they wouldn’t see us coming.

An old friend in Fleet Logistics had secured me a half-load of cluster munitions, which were about the only effective counter to a swarm attack and as such about as rare as hen’s teeth. Given that we were now facing only some thirty-odd enemy I started to feel cautiously optimistic about surviving their initial attack, as long as they didn’t get a clean shot at us.

The universe drew breath.

“All batteries firing, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr Vought. Miss Hughes, an update if you please.”

“Yes sir. I’m reading a massive energy build-up from the larger of the two HAL freighters, but it doesn’t have an FTL signature, nor is it like a reactor over-load. Sorry sir, but I can’t – what the f*** was that?”

I let the outburst go.

“Miss Hughes, if you please?”

“Ah, ah, sorry sir. Won’t happen again. There was an energy discharge, I mean an energy weapon, a coherent beam. From the freighter and directed at the enemy formation nearest to Magdalene Station. I mean, I’ve never seen anything like it, the sheer power of it was off the effing scale!”

“Casualties?”

“Ah, yes sir, just a moment. It looks like-“

A section of bulkhead behind her vanished, as did her head, and a section on the far side of the bridge.

There was light.

There was dark.

[fkatona]

Very nice. The POV is uncommon because people tend to describe the action directly. You are undertaking a difficult task by describing the action through dialogue, and pulling it off pretty well. We'll have to see where it goes from here...


Poor Miss Hughes. And she had only started showing her fiesty side.

[reiver33]

I'll be off until early January (so wishing you a Happy New Year! in advance) and might not get a chance for any writing until then, so I've come up with another segment...


Four

It only lasted a moment as far as I was concerned but when I blinked and refocused it was not a sight to gladden the heart. Vought was, from my perspective, walking on the ceiling, checking critical systems; ship first, crew second – even its captain. I realised I was floating free of my seat, still tethered by the umbilical although my suit was telling me it had switched to internal power. There was a small constellation of frozen blood floating about, so I didn’t bother checking on Miss Hughes and concentrated on pulling myself down the umbilical until my boots clamped to the decking.

“Mr Vought, status!”

No reply, indicating that the internal comms were out and I’d have to rely on suit-to-suit systems.

“Mr Vought?”

“Captain, I’m afraid the situation is offically sh*t. The reactor scrammed but the core is stable, although we’re venting coolant, and oxygen from the port tank. We’ve lost attitude control, radar, probably the aft dorsal battery in its entirety, plus the forward targeting array.”

He paused and drew breath.

“Internal comms are down but I’ve been able to daisy-chain from suit to suit and contact engineering; the port sub-light engine is ‘history’ according to Konev but FTL is operational. Restoring main power shouldn’t be a problem but I suggest we play dead for now until the damage reports are in. Things may look bad in here but I’m betting they look a damn sight worst from outside, and that’s why the Dream called off the attack. At present I can’t even tell how many we took out.”

It didn’t really register at first, but I could see from the number of warning lights that the ship was barely hanging together in places, and I was thankful there were no accompanying audio alarms.

“What hit us? Did they ram?”

“No sir, it was just three rounds; two through-and-through and a third lodged in the reactor casing. About the size of a football, according to Konev, who’s decidedly chatty at present. Manic, almost.”

“Konev? What happened to Chief Verner?”

“MIA pending formal identification of remaining body parts.”

I did a quick 360 turn, checking on the other bridge crew, although being able to look straight out into space did give me pause, and other than the unfortunate Miss Hughes everyone was at their post. I blinked and flexed my fingers, seized by the sudden desire for a strawberry milkshake to take away the taste of bile in my mouth.

“Weapons status?”

Vought shook his head, although his bulky helmet rendered the gesture barely noticeable.

“We’re down to passive infra-red and visual tracking only, so unless they fly right past us, preferably with running lights, it’s a no-go.”

I clumped over to the master display workstation where Vought joined me.

“Can the Solstice render any assistance?”

“We’re picking up her emergency distress beacon, Captain, but there’s been no other contact.”

“Scratch that idea. Status of our missile strike?”

“Hard to tell. Best guess is the Dream interception force will catch up sooner rather than later. We’re still tracking them but the telemetry from Magdalene Station is spasmodic at best, and we’ve lost input from source Alpha, whatever it was.”

There was blood in my mouth but I resisted the temptation to spit in case the suit couldn’t aspirate it. I felt cold and tired, the backs of my eyes itchy, my back slick with sweat.

I straightened up.

“Mr Vought, set the in-flight ship-to-ship missile to proximity detonation, maximum sensitivity.”

And stand well back.

He hesitated for a moment, but then I think he realised what I was trying and didn’t demure.

“Confirmed.”

I really, really wanted to rub my eyes and down a double espresso in lieu of sleep, but reality has this unpleasant habit of running things to its own timetable. I frowned, if only for my own benefit.

“What happened to the HAL ships and their wonder weapon?”

“No longer on our screen, so I guessed they’ve jumped clear of the system. Whatever they used it tore the a*** out of the Dream formation, to use a colloquial expression, but there’s still about twenty left – more than enough to pound the station into scrap in short order.

A warning light pulsed on the console in front of us.

“Nuclear detonation confirmed, Captain. Analysis of the blast indicates it’s in the anticipated four hundred megaton range.“

It probably didn’t take out that many directly, but the accompanying electro-magnetic pulse should have fried a fair number, while hopefully leaving our inert ordinance unscathed.

“Prepare to launch a second…”

“Sir?”

If Hughes had still been at her console it would probably have gone unnoticed in the heat of battle, but I now had line of sight to a flashing alert that would normally have been obscured by her head. Vought turned and followed my gaze.

“It’s a stellar event notification, sir, from one of the in-system surveillance drones. We couldn’t secure a full complement of intelligence hardware and had to make do with some generic survey kit, so I placed them in less sensitive areas. Probably just a solar flare. Nothing to worry about and in any event its stopped now.”

Probably just a solar flare, but I could feel the apprehension crawling up my spine.

“Mr Vought, be so kind as to indicate the positions of our probes on the main display.”

The Magdalene system sprang into 3-D view, with small pulsing green dots indicating the network of drones scattered in a rough sphere centred on the station.

“Look, the two, three, nearest the sun have gone black, indicating a loss of signal.”

“Well, it could be some form of enemy attack on our intelligence grid, I suppose. It’s too widespread to be the result of a solar flare…”

But I could hear the doubt in his voice, even through the tinny helmet speakers.

Four, five.

“Mr Vought, prepare to jump the ship! Helm! Bring us about, heading, heading zero-zero-zero, relative.”

I could almost feel the ripple of hesitation run round the bridge and Vought tried to keep his voice low.

“Captain, we’re far too close! Too deep in the gravity well, we don’t stand a chance-“

“HELM!”

“Helm answering, sir. Course laid in.”

Still Vought hesitated, indecision plain in his body language, even under the vac suit.

“MR VOUGHT!”

“FTL hardspin, aye, sir! Single jump, Sol system.”

Six, seven, eight.

“Now, Mr Vought!”

The distortion wave washed over us and reality side-slipped, revealing a universe of mass and magic; the gas giant a yawning pit beneath us, the stars black coals in a sea of shimmering light.

We jumped.

We flew.

We soared across a bright and hollow sky.

We twisted.

We tumbled.

We fell.

[HareBrain]

Originally Posted by reiver33

I find it slightly strange that first person would be uncommon in this type of narrative - I would have thought that the 'claustrophobia of combat' suited a personal perspective, but there you go!

First-person is uncommon in this type of narrative for the same reason it's uncommon in the SFF genre as a whole: a lot of readers seem to feel uncomfortable with it.

Couple of random nitpicks:

supporting secessionist sentiment amongst

A slight surplus of sibillance, I submit ...

These rag-tag revolutionaries were based on a handful of pirated freighters and obsolete support craft, although their continued ability to evade a military confrontation indicated some degree of covert support from those corporations opposed to Heimat regulation, although the irony was probably lost on them.

They had declared themselves ‘co-belligerents’ in the war against the Dream, although their haphazard assistance to date had ranged from the vaguely useful to outright annoying

[reiver33]

No need to nitpick, I've been doing it myself! Both these segments suffered from lack of time - sometimes I 'have' to advance the narrative to a given point as that focus is so clear in my head. Part 3 didn't even get a cursory once-over before posting and part 4 was really rushed as I was getting towards the end of my shift and have early am duties before the handover.

Both were also truncated a bit - part 4 especially, which should have featured a longer combat sequence and would have been probably been twice the length given time. So no description of the Solstice going down in flames, no description of using the 'Hellhound' ship-to-ship missile (why they only have 3 nukes not 4), and no 'Firestorm' activation of the missile barrage.

Sorry, but I was just too knackered!

When I have time (yeah, right) I'll redo part 4 as 4 & 5 to get the kinks out.

I'd never considered a first person narrative as being potentially uncomfortable to read, I wonder why? I always write that way and would struggle otherwise (well, more than usual).

Cheers and thanks again for the feedback.

Martin

[HareBrain]

Originally Posted by reiver33

Part 3 didn't even get a cursory once-over before posting and part 4 was really rushed

Yeah yeah, stop sickening me and get published.

I'd never considered a first person narrative as being potentially uncomfortable to read, I wonder why?

I didn't mean uncomfortable to read, so much as they're uncomfortable with reading something they're not used to (literary fiction is often written in first-person, so maybe they were put off by having to study an example in school). Other reasons I've heard for not liking first-person: "too restrictive viewpoint" and "you know the main character will survive so where's the tension?" (arrrgh).

[reiver33]

I didn't mean to boast about my 'output' or anything like that - sometimes its frustrating when I can't get the words out fast enough and othertimes there's just nothing there (if that makes sense). I simply couldn't keep to a daily word count, that whole process seems counter-intuative to me.

For me first person is just natural, but I suspect that's a side-effect of my own personal psychology (egocentric world view, lacks empathy with others, indifferent to the suffering of others en masse but moved to the point of tears by individual tradegy, etc.)

In terms of not killing off the main character I always remember a film noir (can't be bothered Googling this) in which the dead William Holdren? recounts the events leading up to him being found floating face down in the swimming pool. I think its the film with the line "I'm ready for my close-up now, Mr de Mille".

[HareBrain]

Originally Posted by reiver33

I didn't mean to boast about my 'output' or anything like that

I know, I was joking (note to self: don't be afraid of emoticons just because they look like masks evil spirits might use).

For me first person is just natural, but I suspect that's a side-effect of my own personal psychology (egocentric world view, lacks empathy with others, indifferent to the suffering of others en masse but moved to the point of tears by individual tradegy, etc.)

Whatever the reason (and I suspect it's not that one) you clearly have a flair for it. I hope this particular story has legs because so far you've given us an excellent opening.