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Below is an excerpt from a novel I'm working on, Horizon Shift, about a group of survivors on a starship thrown into a far-off corner
of the universe.
Science fiction has long been
something I've enjoyed, particularly the human side. I grew up immersed in Heinlein and
Tolkien, and found fulfillment in faraway worlds like those revealed in the Dune Chronicles.
I've been a fan of both Star Wars and Star Trek, generally in agreement that going boldly
into whatever awaits you is the right approach to life. There's even a bit of fiction based in
the Next Generation world written by me. I'll share it when the time comes, but for now,
you'll just have to wait. Is Picard a better Captain than Kirk? You’d better believe it.
So that was it. They were dead in space.
Themes Rogers came to full consciousness as the alarms blared, systems hitting critical status around him, acrid smoke choking the six-seater bridge of his midsize vessel Doubtful in the black emptiness of the void... somewhere. He didn’t know where. Not yet.
With muttered expletive, Rogers used the captain’s chair, its black leather scored, to pull his stocky frame to a standing position so he could see what was left of his bridge. His seat was in the center. Two were in front of his, lower than the rest; the other three were on a slightly raised level that circled completely around the center, some facing forward, others facing back. The gray utilitarian carpet was littered with dust and broken chips off the consoles. The equipment wasn’t as damaged as he’d feared.
The greatest loss was personnel. Four of his officers were down, unmoving, with visible, severe injuries. Probably that last power burst as the Ancients’ device had overloaded the system. The fifth, his executive officer, had been a loyal Confederation man. Once he’d realized the Doubtful intended to rebel against orders, he’d drawn first and Rogers had killed him with one quick shot. We couldn’t let him stop us...
Lights faded on some of the boards. The captain clicked into emergency protocol mode. First, secure the ship. Then secure the crew. He knew gravitational control and life support would take the last power, so he had to use any other functions before that happened. Rogers ignored the torn muscles aching in his back and scrambled over the debris of blown panels and ceiling tiles to slap the intercom.
“All decks report!” The smoke sent him into a coughing fit, and he kicked the console that held the ventilation controls. To his satisfaction, it rattled to life, obviously damaged, but the air began to clear. That’s right, you jump when the captain calls. His ironic amusement faded as there was no answering beep from the intercom. Do I have a crew? He hit the button again. “Anyone hearing this message respond to the bridge immediately!”
When there was still no answer, he sent the message again deck by deck. There had been 32 souls on deck when they’d left base at Gilada. Could I have lost them all? With a flash of hope, he received a crackle of static on middeck but he couldn’t get anything vocal. “Engineering? Report!” Frustrated, he grabbed his portable communit and stumped out to see for himself.
So tell me what you think about this opening -- want to read more?