R.’s Comments (group member since Aug 08, 2016)

R.’s comments from the ScribIntel for Unsung Authors group.

I think this is a great idea, thanks.

Here are a couple from my SF novels. From "Run from the Stars", the scene where Jane has gone to sleep at the controls of the spaceship after being awake for sixty-six hours:

Hours later she began to wander into a bleary, partial wakefulness. She'd tried to sleep in an acceleration seat—something almost impossible to do comfortably. She winced as she realised what had happened—she'd tried to turn over in her sleep, in a seat designed to hold the occupant firmly in one position with their back to the thrust line—and the seat, with its harness, had won.
She stretched, trying to ease the stiffness, and her left hand caught the stick, deflecting it fully forwards.
The lurch as the gyros kicked in, pitching the ship nose down in response to her unplanned command, jerked her rudely and fully awake.
As the ship slowly turned, the entire span of the galaxy came into view, filling the glass from edge to edge, but now she was fifteen thousand light years above the great disk, and seeing the spiral arms laid out in their majesty as a vast diamond tapestry in front of her.
The endless curving arches of stars burned on, ageless and silent in the darkness, returning to the unwinking glory of the complex, terrible core. Somewhere, out there, in that stark, cold beauty was a region whose diameter was barely one hundredth of the whole galaxy, which was everything that every human had known. Out there, in a space that she could blot out with her thumb, on five hundred worlds, every man, woman and child, save her, lived and died, and rejoiced and mourned, and fought and made peace. And still the awful majesty of the stars burned on, tearing her soul apart with their unchanging loveliness, in the depths of their silence speaking the truths she couldn't bear to hear.
She'd been running, running from herself. She'd lost her temper with Alan, Alan was dead, and there was nobody else to blame. Life wasn't a game any more.
That—and nothing else—was what she'd to learn to live with, the knowledge she'd take to bed every night, the truth that she'd wake up with each morning.
She could run if she chose, she could try to hide—but the stars would always be there to remind her. Or she could turn back and, one day at a time, learn to live again.

And from the sequel, "Turn to the Stars":

As Lieutenant Jane Gould settled the eighty-footer into the long approach to New California's only spaceport her piercing blue eyes scanned the chronometer for the twentieth time.
Thirty miles to run to the runway threshold. Ten minutes until the spaceship's wheels touched down, then another twenty to a complete disaster. By the time she'd landed, parked, sprinted back to the terminal, and crossed the sprawl of Sacramento the one man who had the power to destroy the planet would be free.
She needed to find another five minutes, ten at the most.
Jane opened a starline connection. ‘Sacramento approach, this is Space Fleet, I will need to use a stand at the passenger terminal.’
There was a pause before the controller replied. ‘Space Fleet, persons on board please.’
‘Single crewed, captain's name is First Lieutenant Jane Gould, Space Fleet Planetary Operations.’
‘There is no stand available for a single crewed ship, you are directed to the transit park.’
‘Sacramento. I require a stand.’
‘Space Feet, there is no, I say again no stand available.’
‘Sacramento, I still require a stand. There is no need to refer this to Deep Space Control.’
‘Space Fleet, I am referring this to DSC.’
A faint smile came to Jane's lips. Give the poor man fifteen seconds to get through to Deep Space controller Spence on Homeworld, thirty to have his ears chewed off, then-
‘Space Fleet, this is Sacramento. Take stand three.’
‘Sacramento, taking stand three, thank you for your assistance.’
The eighty-footer bumped down on the composition surface, then Jane was braking and reversing thrust, swinging off the runway and rolling the spaceship to a halt.
Grabbing her weapon belt she charged out of the airlock and into the terminal building. For a moment the official on the immigration desk tried to stop her, then he recognised the Arcturian Confederate Space Fleet uniform and leaped out of her way.