Spaceresearcher
SOC-12
After the first novel which ached to be a stellar read but alas was admittedly not really worthy of the Traveller association(but you'll have stacks of fun picking out all the errors(especially if your a hard core fan) if nothing else), I present the promo promotion blurb to the next novel, due out in September.
I'll wait till I've read the whole novel before putting in a review. In the meantime, here's the blurb and I hope it might bring back tears of joy to fellow Traveller fans as opposed to tears of pain and anger like the first novel seems to have evoked in some Travellers.
An Excerpt from
TRAVELLER
Shadow of the Storm
Martin J. Dougherty
Pavel System: 132-1099
“Signal from task force flagship sir,” said the calm, crisp voice of CSS Maestrale’s central computer. “Task force commander’s compliments, your attention is called to a hostile vessel in the indicated quadrant. Request screening as Atami recovers her craft and prepares to Jump.”
Commander Alex Finchley, captain of the Solomani Confederation strike destroyer Maestrale, nodded. “Acknowledge signal; my compliments et cetera. Will comply. Request updated Jump coordinates if rendezvous is altered.”
“Acknowledged, Captain,” Maestrale replied, but Finchley’s attention was already on the three-dimensional battle plot in front of him. The upper half, set for a “big picture” view, showed the battle as a whole, and it wasn’t going well at all. The lower half showed the local situation … and that was worse.
“All hands, this is the Captain,” Finchley said into his headset mike. “We are ordered to screen Atami during her recovery operations. She’s picking up hundreds of our support crews and groundside personnel; some of them we know personally. We have hostile vessels incoming. They obviously intend to attack the transports. We will not permit that to happen. Prepare to engage.”
Finchley’s bridge crew exchanged glances as they checked glove seals and locked helmets in place. Their faceplates stayed open for now, breathing the ship’s air unless a holed compartment made using their suits’ reserves necessary. The bridge crew were veterans, long-time comrades. Most of them, anyway.
Sublieutenant Simon Crowe was anything but a veteran, a newcomer to the tight-knit world of CSS Maestrale and still an outsider. His gaze wandered nervously around the bridge as his hands ran through the tap-drill: boot seals, belt life-support, sidearm, glove seals, helmet. Everything in place, just as it had been a few minutes ago when he’d last checked. The ritual was reassuring in its way, although it was also a reminder that his ship was going into a place where a sealed suit might be necessary.
Crowe glanced across to the captain, trying to read his expression. It was blank, professionally calm, until Finchley realized Crowe was looking at him and gave a tight little smile. “BEO,” he said conversationally. “An update if you please?”
Crowe’s station was Bridge Engineering Officer—BEO—which most of the time meant acting as a manual repeater for updates from the engineering and technical divisions and advising the captain on technical matters as they arose. If things got bad, the BEO was also in charge of damage control. By the looks of the battle plot, he’d be busy soon.
“Engineering and Technical report all green, Captain,” Crowe reported. “Damage control parties standing ready.”
The captain nodded, swaying slightly as Maestrale lunged forward under high acceleration. He preferred to stand in action, rather than strapping himself into his seat as regulations required. He said it allowed him to walk around the holographic battle plot—or into it—rather than manipulating it from the seat’s control panel, but in reality it was more to do with the stress of battle. Humans were not meant to go to war sitting down.
Crowe watched the fight unfold on the repeater plot at the side of his display. Maestrale and her sister Aquila were racing to intercept a Laputan vessel, along with the two other Jump-capable warships of the task force escort. Those were corvettes with negligible combat power, but they might keep some missiles off the two destroyers.
Their target was a light cruiser. The plot pegged her as an older vessel of the Varanzich class, but she still outgunned the entire force moving to intercept her. In a gunnery or missile duel she could shoot her attackers to pieces in minutes. The only chance was not to give her those minutes, which was why Commander Finchley was going in so very hot. Normally an escort vessel would not be permitted to rush away from her charges like this, but since Atami intended to Jump out as soon as her shuttles docked, Maestrale could join her at their fallback position in the Elsinore system.
Assuming, of course, she survived…
September 2013
I'll wait till I've read the whole novel before putting in a review. In the meantime, here's the blurb and I hope it might bring back tears of joy to fellow Traveller fans as opposed to tears of pain and anger like the first novel seems to have evoked in some Travellers.
An Excerpt from
TRAVELLER
Shadow of the Storm
Martin J. Dougherty
Pavel System: 132-1099
“Signal from task force flagship sir,” said the calm, crisp voice of CSS Maestrale’s central computer. “Task force commander’s compliments, your attention is called to a hostile vessel in the indicated quadrant. Request screening as Atami recovers her craft and prepares to Jump.”
Commander Alex Finchley, captain of the Solomani Confederation strike destroyer Maestrale, nodded. “Acknowledge signal; my compliments et cetera. Will comply. Request updated Jump coordinates if rendezvous is altered.”
“Acknowledged, Captain,” Maestrale replied, but Finchley’s attention was already on the three-dimensional battle plot in front of him. The upper half, set for a “big picture” view, showed the battle as a whole, and it wasn’t going well at all. The lower half showed the local situation … and that was worse.
“All hands, this is the Captain,” Finchley said into his headset mike. “We are ordered to screen Atami during her recovery operations. She’s picking up hundreds of our support crews and groundside personnel; some of them we know personally. We have hostile vessels incoming. They obviously intend to attack the transports. We will not permit that to happen. Prepare to engage.”
Finchley’s bridge crew exchanged glances as they checked glove seals and locked helmets in place. Their faceplates stayed open for now, breathing the ship’s air unless a holed compartment made using their suits’ reserves necessary. The bridge crew were veterans, long-time comrades. Most of them, anyway.
Sublieutenant Simon Crowe was anything but a veteran, a newcomer to the tight-knit world of CSS Maestrale and still an outsider. His gaze wandered nervously around the bridge as his hands ran through the tap-drill: boot seals, belt life-support, sidearm, glove seals, helmet. Everything in place, just as it had been a few minutes ago when he’d last checked. The ritual was reassuring in its way, although it was also a reminder that his ship was going into a place where a sealed suit might be necessary.
Crowe glanced across to the captain, trying to read his expression. It was blank, professionally calm, until Finchley realized Crowe was looking at him and gave a tight little smile. “BEO,” he said conversationally. “An update if you please?”
Crowe’s station was Bridge Engineering Officer—BEO—which most of the time meant acting as a manual repeater for updates from the engineering and technical divisions and advising the captain on technical matters as they arose. If things got bad, the BEO was also in charge of damage control. By the looks of the battle plot, he’d be busy soon.
“Engineering and Technical report all green, Captain,” Crowe reported. “Damage control parties standing ready.”
The captain nodded, swaying slightly as Maestrale lunged forward under high acceleration. He preferred to stand in action, rather than strapping himself into his seat as regulations required. He said it allowed him to walk around the holographic battle plot—or into it—rather than manipulating it from the seat’s control panel, but in reality it was more to do with the stress of battle. Humans were not meant to go to war sitting down.
Crowe watched the fight unfold on the repeater plot at the side of his display. Maestrale and her sister Aquila were racing to intercept a Laputan vessel, along with the two other Jump-capable warships of the task force escort. Those were corvettes with negligible combat power, but they might keep some missiles off the two destroyers.
Their target was a light cruiser. The plot pegged her as an older vessel of the Varanzich class, but she still outgunned the entire force moving to intercept her. In a gunnery or missile duel she could shoot her attackers to pieces in minutes. The only chance was not to give her those minutes, which was why Commander Finchley was going in so very hot. Normally an escort vessel would not be permitted to rush away from her charges like this, but since Atami intended to Jump out as soon as her shuttles docked, Maestrale could join her at their fallback position in the Elsinore system.
Assuming, of course, she survived…
September 2013
