Opening scene of my new story

[WickedPenguin]

Hi all. I've got some new writing projects in the works and kind of felt like sharing one of them.

The following is the opening scene of one of the three new novellas I'm working on currently. It's a vengeance tale set in a world where certain cultural and political changes around the mid-1800s forged an alternate timeline resulting in a somewhat different arrangement of global empires. Also, airships are much more rudimentary than they were historically, bearing a greater resemblance to classic sailing ships than actual Zeppelins.

I hope you enjoy the scene!

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   Blue skies and fair winds did little to drown the hurricane flaring to life within Captain Morena’s chest.
    “Come starboard!” she shouted over the creaking of airbag lines stretching taut, her fingers locked on the forward lookout post’s reinforced plating. “Engines to the stops.”
   The helmsman grinned forty feet below, his teeth splitting a Maoi tattoo that sheathed his face from brow to chin. “Aye, ma’am!” He gripped a rail with his left hand and gave the wheel a spin with the other.
   The black hull swung hard to port with centrifugal force as the rudder slapped air and wrenched her nose north.  Rigging groaned. The stench of oil and charred wood penetrated the deck. Her engines were nearly shrieking now, driving the single screw into a blurred frenzy. The airbrig’s armored shades clattered with the slipstream.
   Morena  dropped to the teak deck with  a clatter of cutlass and pistol. The gunners glanced up as she strode past, almost cowering behind their breech-loading artillery mounts. She was weathered like her ship, years of the sun and wind lining her face and hands. Like tarnished silver, beauty still lived underneath the grime. An ankle-length leather duster hid a shapely form whose natural secrets were learned at the cost of an eye to the last man who had stolen a glimpse into her quarters. She was a woman straight from many of their dreams - and all of their nightmares.
   She stopped next to the helmsman, angular features contorted in thought. Her attention remained affixed on the starboard quarter. Their prey was only a quarter mile away, half tucked within a few vaporous clouds drifting past a Himalayan peak. The aviajunco’s exaggerated curves and battened airbags faded in and out of view. Everest splintered the horizon beyond.
   “This is it,” she said quietly, to no one.
   Her weapons master lowered his teleglass. “Target in range!”
   “Gunners,” she called out, “let ‘em know we’re here.” 
   The three turrets rotated on their mounts. The rough casting of their steel barrels sparkled in the sunlight. One. Two. Three shots. The airbrig rocked from the undampened recoil. Shells sailed across the open expanse trailing ringlets of smoke.
   She fell silent, gazing at the other ship. The shock of each cannon report stirred rage deep within a heart where there had once been love, a love that lingered within memories triggered by the most commonplace of things. The swaying of her ship became the lazy sway of a carriage ride en route to a lovers’ retreat. The sweet smell of a flowery field passing beneath the keel became an exquisite bouquet presented in courting. The pounding of turbulence became a bout of vigorous lovemaking during a thunderstorm. 
   But all love inevitably becomes hate, she reminded herself. And all hate must be acted upon, before it consumes the bearer. She watched the rounds bracket the silent ship, scattering the fragile clouds. The tempest within her sighed. Release was drawing near.
   “Bring us close enough to smell them,” she said to the helmsman.
   “Yes, ma’am.” His left hand slid to the wheel, his grasp steady. The fingers of his right hand now entwined around the engine telegraph handle and drew it back slowly.  Bells rang below and she felt the deck shift.
   Frigid mountain vapor swirled through the rigging in milky tendrils. She pulled her duster tight, willing off the urge to shiver, and watched her breath become visible. The cold ran deep, reminding her how long it had been since she had truly felt warm. So many years had come and gone, and still her heart had yet to thaw.


--- END SCENE ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[WickedPenguin]

Incidentally, this is the opening scene of my NaNoWriMo novel. I didn't count this nor the full chapter directly following it against the 50,000.

[SteampunkPagan]

Interesting
Seems to foreshadow some sort of Romance is abound,am I correct in this?

Very good story telling. Though I got lost about the the time they fire in to the ship.

[WickedPenguin]

Interesting
Seems to foreshadow some sort of Romance is abound,am I correct in this?

In a way...  It's not a romance story, although there is a little bit of that. It's more action and adventure.

That scene above is merely a brief prologue to the novel. It gives you a taste of how the main character is in the present (the present being an alternate late 19th century). It's a teaser. But right from the first chapter, we drop back seven years into the past to see how her character grows to become the vengeful captain.

In other words, that scene above is "T" in the novel's timeline. The first two acts of the book are "A" through "S", and Act 3 picks up where teasing "T" left off.

[patron_vectras]

   She fell silent, gazing at the other ship. The shock of each cannon report stirred rage deep within a heart where there had once been love, a love that lingered within memories triggered by the most commonplace of things. The swaying of her ship became the lazy sway of a carriage ride en route to a lovers’ retreat. The sweet smell of a flowery field passing beneath the keel became an exquisite bouquet presented in courting. The pounding of turbulence became a bout of vigorous lovemaking during a thunderstorm. 
   But all love inevitably becomes hate, she reminded herself. And all hate must be acted upon, before it consumes the bearer. She watched the rounds bracket the silent ship, scattering the fragile clouds. The tempest within her sighed. Release was drawing near.

Thank you for drawing a wonderful picture of a character. The possibilities of past and future for her are lively and running rampant through my human mind.

The way you slipped into this exposition, and then back out, are crafty and fit well. The pace keeps up like it should.