I'd like some help writing a space battle
Posted: 2008-09-29 01:10pm
I'm writing a science fiction short story. The space battle is at the very beginning, and inconsequential in the context of the rest of the plot, but everyone's who's read the first draft has said that the battle is confusing. If anyone with more experience could help, I'd appreciate it. It's never been a strong suit of mine.
***
It's beautiful, a flower in bloom, Admiral Derek Evans reflected sardonically as the USS Basilisk erupted in space, great gouts of oxygen burn-off flaring hundreds of feet out of the gouge in her port side.
"Lieutenant," Evans addressed his communications officer, "instruct the Bennington to assume Basilisk's position." An identical warship cruised past Evans's line of sight, plunging itself uncaringly into the gauntlet of the RSS Argyll's firing arc. Energy and matter clashed violently, spidering luminescently off of the invisible shield protecting Bennington. She lurched, and shuddered, but still she closed the gap, and at the very moment it seemed the shields would finally cave, USS Bennington fired. And she did what Basilisk could not: she made contact. Not just any contact, but contact with a critical engine juncture.
And, as Evans knew from years of blood-soaked experience, the ship would be completely out of control for a few precious moments before auxiliary systems ignited. Sure enough, the Argyll's engines sputtered and flared, completely independently of one another, each sporadic engine burn ejecting white glittering crystals of insulation into the void. The mighty ship lumbered randomly and uselessly, completely unaware of the danger approaching. The crew, however, was not. Gun turrets strained against the bolts holding them to the hull, desperately trying to decrease their inadequate angles.
The designers of the Argyll had never intended to lose their engines. By themselves, the many guns could only cover a small fraction of the space around the ship, leaving tremendous blind spots that the ship needed to be able to turn to shoot into. Too God-damned many people died before we figured that out, Evans raged to himself, biting his knuckles. But they, and the crew of the Argyll, definitely knew it now. Without an order even given, smaller warships crept into the blind spot and rained all hell upon Argyll. Armor flash-melted, bulkheads twisted. The whole ship began to twist, and then the tension upon the structure became too great. A great split began to form from the spot that the rockets were pouring, and then the great craft wretched completely in two. Internal fires were extinguished immediately as precious air was siphoned from the ship, venting into space. Not a few bodies followed it. Evans remembered that he used to grimace at the sight of it. Escape pods began to billow from the dead warship. Evans remembered, too, that in his fits of rage he used to be frustrated that they'd left people alive. Both feelings were long since gone. Most feelings, for that matter, were gone. He'd learned that everyone in this war died. Everyone. It became impossible to cry for the faceless dead who he'd never known and had only met the fate that was inevitable in this brutal campaign. He didn't hate them anymore, either: he had, after all, come to realize that they wanted as little to do with this as he did. That they hated Admiral Derek Evans only as much as Admiral Derek Evans hated Admiral Derek Evans. It was only a job.
With the demise of Argyll, the Republic began to withdraw. They scattered to the stars, each one leaving on a different vector. They were all going to the same place, the scattering was only designed to make pursuit futile. It worked, of course. The scatter-flight might as well have been a formality. They could have left at minimum speeds and Evans would not have chased. The Republic had baited him with Argyll as part of their duties, and Evans destroyed her as part of his. It was only a job. Nevertheless, he was somewhat disappointed. He had been expecting...
"Admiral," one of the deckhands said from a console, "they've launched a personal craft. He claims to be Admiral Jenner. He wants to discuss the terms of his surrender."
...precisely that.
"Bring him aboard. I'll be in my quarters."
***
So that's it. The rest of the story follows thereafter, but that's the combat scene. I apologize if I didn't italicize a ship name, it probably does have it in the actual .rtf, it just obviously won't preserve format when it's copied over.
My chief concern is trying to strike a balance. The fight is not an integral part of the story, it just serves to set the backdrop for the meeting between Jenner and Evans. Therefore, I don't want to get to wordy with the technical details, but I also want to avoid confusion, as I've apparently done.
If the rest of the story would make anyone's job easier, I'd be glad to include it.
Thanks in advance.
***
It's beautiful, a flower in bloom, Admiral Derek Evans reflected sardonically as the USS Basilisk erupted in space, great gouts of oxygen burn-off flaring hundreds of feet out of the gouge in her port side.
"Lieutenant," Evans addressed his communications officer, "instruct the Bennington to assume Basilisk's position." An identical warship cruised past Evans's line of sight, plunging itself uncaringly into the gauntlet of the RSS Argyll's firing arc. Energy and matter clashed violently, spidering luminescently off of the invisible shield protecting Bennington. She lurched, and shuddered, but still she closed the gap, and at the very moment it seemed the shields would finally cave, USS Bennington fired. And she did what Basilisk could not: she made contact. Not just any contact, but contact with a critical engine juncture.
And, as Evans knew from years of blood-soaked experience, the ship would be completely out of control for a few precious moments before auxiliary systems ignited. Sure enough, the Argyll's engines sputtered and flared, completely independently of one another, each sporadic engine burn ejecting white glittering crystals of insulation into the void. The mighty ship lumbered randomly and uselessly, completely unaware of the danger approaching. The crew, however, was not. Gun turrets strained against the bolts holding them to the hull, desperately trying to decrease their inadequate angles.
The designers of the Argyll had never intended to lose their engines. By themselves, the many guns could only cover a small fraction of the space around the ship, leaving tremendous blind spots that the ship needed to be able to turn to shoot into. Too God-damned many people died before we figured that out, Evans raged to himself, biting his knuckles. But they, and the crew of the Argyll, definitely knew it now. Without an order even given, smaller warships crept into the blind spot and rained all hell upon Argyll. Armor flash-melted, bulkheads twisted. The whole ship began to twist, and then the tension upon the structure became too great. A great split began to form from the spot that the rockets were pouring, and then the great craft wretched completely in two. Internal fires were extinguished immediately as precious air was siphoned from the ship, venting into space. Not a few bodies followed it. Evans remembered that he used to grimace at the sight of it. Escape pods began to billow from the dead warship. Evans remembered, too, that in his fits of rage he used to be frustrated that they'd left people alive. Both feelings were long since gone. Most feelings, for that matter, were gone. He'd learned that everyone in this war died. Everyone. It became impossible to cry for the faceless dead who he'd never known and had only met the fate that was inevitable in this brutal campaign. He didn't hate them anymore, either: he had, after all, come to realize that they wanted as little to do with this as he did. That they hated Admiral Derek Evans only as much as Admiral Derek Evans hated Admiral Derek Evans. It was only a job.
With the demise of Argyll, the Republic began to withdraw. They scattered to the stars, each one leaving on a different vector. They were all going to the same place, the scattering was only designed to make pursuit futile. It worked, of course. The scatter-flight might as well have been a formality. They could have left at minimum speeds and Evans would not have chased. The Republic had baited him with Argyll as part of their duties, and Evans destroyed her as part of his. It was only a job. Nevertheless, he was somewhat disappointed. He had been expecting...
"Admiral," one of the deckhands said from a console, "they've launched a personal craft. He claims to be Admiral Jenner. He wants to discuss the terms of his surrender."
...precisely that.
"Bring him aboard. I'll be in my quarters."
***
So that's it. The rest of the story follows thereafter, but that's the combat scene. I apologize if I didn't italicize a ship name, it probably does have it in the actual .rtf, it just obviously won't preserve format when it's copied over.
My chief concern is trying to strike a balance. The fight is not an integral part of the story, it just serves to set the backdrop for the meeting between Jenner and Evans. Therefore, I don't want to get to wordy with the technical details, but I also want to avoid confusion, as I've apparently done.
If the rest of the story would make anyone's job easier, I'd be glad to include it.
Thanks in advance.
.