The first actually isn't one of mine, but comes from a published book. However, I read it just after reading the Workshop post, and it seemed to be a little masterclass in how to give characters distinctive voices, so I figured it was worth sharing.
This extract come from Starfighters of Adumar, book 9 in the 'X-wing series', written by Aaron Allston.
* * *
Wedge said, “This is Red Leader. Understood. We launch at arrival plus five seconds. Red Flight, are you good to go?”
“Red Two, ready.” That was Tycho, as economical of words as he was of motion.
“Red Three, four lit and ready to burn.” Janson’s inimitable voice and enthusiasm were evident even across the standard X-wing comm distortion.
“Red Four, nothing’s gone wrong yet.” There was almost a hopeful note to Hobbie’s dour tone.
* * *
It's not perfect - sometimes Tycho simply has a lot to say, and Janson tends to get more serious and brief when they're in combat, but you can usually take a good guess at who is speaking, without having to rely on their names/callsigns. And you can pretty much always tell whenever Hobbie is speaking.
The next one is just a random piece of mine. I've had the Captain's first words in my head for quite some time now, as an intro / establishing character moment, and just built the scene around that. I don't have a story for this character yet, but when I do, some variation of this scene will probably play out pretty early on.
* * *
The corporate headquarters of Zanex rarely hosted such unrefined guests, but when the need arose one of the smaller and less well furnished meeting rooms was used.
Five corporate employees, their suits perfectly tailored and spotlessly clean, sat opposite the two men in rough spacers’ clothes. Five was far more than would be needed for the negotiation, in fact, the senior policy maker had the authority to handle the matter himself. But he could hardly be expected to talk with people of such low status. The suited men to his immediate left and right were mid-level executives; it was they that would take care of the actual communication. The final two were junior executives, present merely to observe the proceedings.
At a gesture from the policymaker, the man on his right began speaking. “Welcome, Captain Ivaken, Master Jacus, to our prosperous business. It is our hope that together, we can work…”
Jacus wished that he could share a look with his captain, to see if he had started to tune out the man’s obsequious speech, but to do so risked insulting their prospective client. Instead, he waited patiently, nodding occasionally at the man’s words to give the impression of attentiveness.
The voice faded into the background, droning on for long enough that Jacus’ thoughts drifted further than he’d intended. With a start, he suddenly realised that the room was silent, and that expectant faces were watching him from across the table. Either the Captain wanted him to take the lead, or he’d been bored enough to lose concentration altogether.
Jacus stepped forward, till he was level with the Captain in his seat. “Thank you for the welcome, and for the opportunity of doing business with you.”
The central suit whispered something into the ear of the speaker, and Jacus inwardly braced himself for the next monologue.
“Forgive me for asking but, while we have dealt with Drenai before, and you come highly recommended by him, your ship and crew are an unknown quantity for us. How do we know that we can trust you?”
Sweet merciful gods, he’s actually being brief. “A perfectly reasonable concern. Please allow us to offer you some reassurances-”
The sound of snapping fingers, reverberating in the small room thanks to its lack of soft furnishings, cut him off exactly where he expected it to. He stepped back, resuming his place just behind and to the right of his Captain.
“My loyalty is a commodity like any other – it’s available to the highest bidder. If you’re not the highest bidder in these parts, then you probably don’t want to be doing business with me. And I certainly don’t want to be doing business with you.”
“You mean that you’d break our agreement if someone offered you more money?”
“Of course not.” The tone of the words carried an unspoken ‘don’t be an idiot’. “If one of your rivals were to try and buy me out while I was carrying your cargo, I would immediately contact you, so that you’d have the opportunity to put in a counteroffer.”
“And how do we know that you won’t say you have received such an offer from one of our rivals, even if no such offer were actually made, in order to drive your price up?”
“You get what you pay for, and I’m very good at what I do. My price structure reflects that. I think you’ll find that they’re high enough already.”
This time there was a whole whispered discussion, rather than just simple instructions being passed down.
“And what would your price be for this job?”
“Five hundred thousand.”
“What!? We could buy our own ship for that!” The executive’s calm demeanour had been shattered, and his face flushed with embarrassment. The harsh whispers directed at him carried a hint of reprimand.
“Yeah, you could buy a ship. But not my ship. And Zanex can count several ships on its roster, all of which cost more, and none of which are suitable. If they were, you wouldn’t have asked us here.”
There was silence for a while, as the suits digested the fact that their guests were not the simple-minded space-juicers they’d expected them to be.
The quiet was finally broken by the second executive. “The price that you have quoted still seems high for a simple transit of cargo, even for transport through potentially hostile territory. Perhaps we could see a cost breakdown? How did you come up with that figure?”
“You think the galactic banks issue insurance to people in my line of work? If my ship gets damaged doing your job, I gotta pay for that outta my own pocket, twice. Once for the repair costs, and once for the time it wastes where I can’t work. My fee includes shipping and handling, fuel costs, the bribes I’ll have to pay, plus a risk factor to cover any damages.”
“It sounds as if at least some of your fee is based on variables that you can’t properly determine at this time. What if we were to negotiate a lower initial fee, but with higher charges for any actual damage sustained in your endeavours on our behalf?”
His words were met with silence from both parties, and the young executive began to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Maybe the smuggler was insulted by the talk of a lower price, maybe his own superior was offended that he’d offered a deal with consulting with him…
“Finally there’s a businessman among you!” Ivaken pointed a finger at the suddenly relived exec. “You, I can make a deal with.” His finger shifted to point at the former speaker. “Get him outta here.”
* * *
My final piece features a couple of PPC Agents, including DIA Officer Shacklemore, whose first and only other appearance was in PoorCynic's previous Workshop.
* * *
Officer Theodore Shacklemore calmly finished writing up the latest transcription, then looked at the DMS Agent across the table from him. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that that last remark was close to an act of insubordination.”
Skeet leaned forward, his wrists settling on the table with a metallic jangle. “Technically speaking, wouldn't I have to be your subordinate in order to act insubordinate? Last time I checked, that’s not how they run this place.”
“As you well know, Assassin, insubordination refers to any act of disobedience or rebellion. And given your current status, disobedience is hardly going to be helpful to you.”
“Hey, I have a name, Shacklemore, and I know you know it – it’s in my file, along with rest of my details. I don’t call you ‘Officer’.”
“Have you considered doing so? It would be a show of respect. You gain nothing from this defiant act-”
“I have no intention of performing an act of defiance. An act of violence, on the other hand…”
“Would gain you even less.”
“Yeah? Well we’ll see if you feel the same way after I bounce your head off this table.”
“A task that will not be aided by your restraints.”
“What, these old things?” Skeet held his manacled wrists up. “A holdout blaster, a decent knife… hell, I could get out of these with a toothpick!”
“That sounds like quite a feat. I’d be very interested in seeing you do that.”
“Oh, errr… I-I don’t actually have a… toothpick on me… at the moment.”
Shacklemore made another note on the tablet in front of him, then reached up into his breast pocket and pulled out a pack of toothpicks. He selected one, and proceeded to work it into the gap between his incisor and canine, then put it down on the table. He then selected a fresh one and offered it across the table.
Skeet leaned back from the proffered pick, slouching in his chair and running his hands through his hair as if to straighten his ponytail, a movement that was slightly hampered by the cuffs. By the time he brought his hands back into view again, he’d somehow acquired a vibroknife.
The weapon made short work of the steel restraints.
“You were searched for weapons before being brought here.”
“Yes. Yes I was.”
* * *
So I've tried to do something a little different to normal here and focus exclusively on the dialogue, only including the other narration when it was absolutely necessary to show what was happening in the scene. If I do end up using this scene in the actual storyline, I'll probably 'fill in the blanks' a little, actually give some descriptions and a few more speech tags, etc. For now, I'm just wondering how well I did characterising these guys just through their words.