Remember that original sci-fi work I wanted to take a crack at? Here is a portion of the first chapter, to see what people think (or rather, the right people):
The coolant system hummed softly, running the freon, which had been outlawed decades ago, through the fifty-two small, flexible tubes which were glued to the one piece latex bodysuit. This was the interface layer, Dennis reminded himself. It gave a skin-tight cushion against the carbon-carbon armor exoskeleton, and served as an insulating material to prevent electrical shock. However, it poorly insulated him from the frigid effects of the thermal camouflage system, which cooled the armor to the external environment's temperature. Even on a summer's night like this, with the temperature displayed on the inner lining of the carbon-carbon helmet as a comfortable 17 degrees Centigrade, Dennis was starting to shake from the cold.
But the M-407D, the sniper variant of the 400 series stealth special-infantry suits, was the burden of an expert marksman such as him. Creature comforts such as heaters, water stored in canteens, rations, or even medical gear were discarded for the purpose of complete secrecy. For a mission like this, Dennis tried to persuade himself, it was worth it. The two hours of standing in the cramped body mold as the liquid latex was poured in, followed by another four hours for coolant system attachment, armor fitting, diagnostic checks, and mission briefing in the M-407 were the costs for being, quite literally, a hole in three dimensional space. Since their introduction, the M-407 proved the manufacturer's claim of giving off no radar profiles, no temperature variations, and with the improved phase-shifting audio equipment, no sound.
At least he only had to spend two hours after the installation aboard the SRC-106 "Infiltrator" Stealth Deployment Vehicle. But his missions, since they were classified, meant he had to piggyback on the less glamorous cargo drops, sending anything from weapons, food, to even toilet paper to the sealed Eastern Bloc nations. Sometimes, he even had to hide his presence on the space plane from the crew, penetrating the air base defenses, crossing the landing strip, and boarding without detection. Such "dine and dash" operations were becoming more prevalent as the news reporters continued prying into the military's counterinsurgency operations in nations that "deserved their freedom to choose socialism."
The Cold War had ended nearly a century ago, but as Russia continued to collapse, militant dictators from the Arab nations along with representatives from SouthEast Asia began to influence the politics of the fallen country. The United Soviet States of Asia was only a slight name change, but had far greater consequences. Except for some fringe nations like the United Kingdom, Spain, and Italy, the rest of Europe and Asia was entirely Red. Africa was taking a turn for the worse, the build-up of ICBMs extending from Morocco to the Ivory Coast, with South Africa trying to hold against the various warring nations in between. Meanwhile, the United States had to amputate Central America and Mexico in the Mass Thermonuclear Strike of 2076, the greatest fireworks display to celebrate the third century of democracy. Canada was always leaning towards socialism, and still complained about the excessive force used to prevent radical insurgents from getting through the border, but they sided with capitalism simply because they didn't want to become the next Berlin.
Dennis was lying between the damp, long blades of grass on the eastern coast of Cuba, the only sector felt safe enough from residual fallout for civilian life to continue. The sandy beach cushioned his pose, and would soften the anticipated recoil, as the bipod legs of the .338 Lapua rifle were buried an inch under the soft, grainy soil. This was perfect, he thought. He could have taken the .50 caliber Parker-Hale to ensure he had anti-material capabilities, but that would have weighed him down. The .300 Win Mag, the only .30 caliber round still in NATO's standardized arsenal, however, would not provide enough penetration, not if a few armored patrol cars were in the vicinity. No, Dennis chose the Christmas present he received from his father.
The rifle was a gift that had been planned for years, Dennis' father painstakingly restoring it for the hunting trip after he left the service. That was meant to be held in Africa, to hunt medium game, but the Second Cold War changed that. It changed everything, including Dennis' plans. Hardly anyone was a civilian in the United States anymore, at least, anyone below retirement age. The only one he knew on his block that didn't even serve as a private contractor was the neighbor girl, Laura. Dennis thought back to the girl's scowling look of disappointment when he told her he was going back in, possibly making it his career. She had planned to share an apartment with him while they attended college. It was Christmas Day, the same day he received the rifle, the day the war began. It was supposed to be cleaner than the First Cold War; the war that didn't need soldiers, that didn't involve bullets.
Dennis fed the first round into the chamber, easing the bolt silently forward in preparation for the bullet he would not fire, for the descendant of Castro the U.S. was not responsible for assassinating.
Re: "The Pursuer"
Okay, I'm already facing a dilemma. Obviously I've established the character of Dennis, but I'd like an opinion (there are two different ways I could go on this). Should this mission Dennis is on be a surprise exam to promote him for the next rank of "Pursuer", or should this be a mission after he's already well experienced?
Re: "The Pursuer"
I havent read it yet. But I damn sure will get to it. AND I will try to answer your question.
Re: "The Pursuer"
I like what's there I want more actually. I think it should be an exam because I don't believe that being he was going to be a college student he should have a lot of experience and as such I think this part would best be suited as a test to see what he can do.