/lit/ - Literature

>>4123705

Well, it's supposed to be hard SF, so maybe an archaic style isn't very appropriate. Let me try to rewrite it in a less archaic style:

“s’been two hours. We’re nearly there.” Ambrose seemed paralyzed by this realization, and Elyse remarked again on the paradox of his motivation – that nothing galvanized him like the possibility of imminent action, yet fear of failures already committed damped his fire. Could it be that in these moments, he didn’t even admit the possibility of defeat before it happened? The kind of reserve one must have to act that way – it made anything less seem criminal in its presence.

Elyse pulled herself into a crouch and went to Ambrose’s knife on her hands and knees. Retrieving it, she handed it up to him.

“The ceiling, remember?”

Ambrose took the knife and pulled her up, but his face was unmoved. “The pirate’s probably already alerted SDO Group to the ship’s presence by now. Even if we take him down, that infernal microwave gun will fry us like two eggs in an omelet before we ever reach the Station.”