This is the content from 2002, the year I actually completed NaNoWriMo.
Bonus Material: The Unrelated Short Story and Part 2
Excerpt Special: The Interview
My colleagues often ask me, "Andrew, you're an infamous womanizer. Why should anyone trust you or take you seriously?" The colleagues who ask this are usually women. For some reason over the past twenty five centuries I've gained some kind of reputation. I'd like to state for the record that while I may be infamous, I'm not a womanizer.
Case in point? The strange little episode on board the Starship Magellan. The Earth-based society at the time was one of those lucky enough to live in a cosmos where Einstein's math could be cheated in several useful ways. Humans were spreading out across their galaxy and looking to extend their reach to other stellar whirlpools nearby. The Magellan, designed to be the first of the intergalactic explorer vessels, was to be my assignment.
I know what you're thinking. Putting one of us on a space vessel destined for a long solo voyage is rather like putting a big sign over each entry port reading, "Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter." Or at least a Mister Yuk sticker. Something along those lines. If we're involved it's because something is going to go horribly wrong.
You might think about that the next time you're handed what seems to be a nice, cushy assignment.
The brave crew of the Magellan signed up for a ten year tour of duty. Four years out, four years back and two years of kicking about the Andromeda galaxy. The ship's captain went by the improbable name of Ursula Archimedes, and the even more incredible nickname of Archie. I'm not kidding. If I was going to make something up, it would certainly be cleverer than that, I assure you.
Miss Archimedes, who insisted on being addressed by her crew as Captain Archie, looked more like the femme fatale space pirate out of a B movie than like the distinguished officer her dossier indicated. When given the choice between dress whites and the darker, more casual uniform, she always went for dark and comfortable. I'd bet good money that her working uniforms were of darker cloth than standard regulation called for, and were undoubtedly of a better tailored fit. We'd all signed up for ten years of potential boredom, so one can only imagine that our good Captain was going to find ways to amuse herself.
My role was that of assistant chief engineer. I answered to the Chief and then to Captain Archie herself, in that order. The duty roster called for the standard three shift rotation, eight hours apiece. During the first three months of the cruise the rosters were shaken up quite a bit as the best distribution of personnel was determined. I ended up on what they called the "rooster watch," so named because we woke up the day watch at chronographic sunrise.
The trouble, at least my personal trouble, started when the Captain decided to spend some time with the roosters. As senior watch engineer my time was usually spent on the bridge. And since monitoring drive output, energy readings, power fluctuations and temperature gauges can't really occupy eight solid hours of any person's attention, the bridge crew chatted a lot.
"So," the Captain said, "this is what night duty looks like."
I couldn't resist. "Quite a bit like daytime duty, isn't it sir?"
"You know, I do believe you are correct, Mister Wolfe. What an absolutely amazing observation."
"Forget I said it."
"I'll do that. How are we doing?"
"All readings nominal, Captain. This ship is surprisingly well built."
"Surprisingly? How so?" she asked.
You'll notice that even after centuries in this job I can still put my foot in my mouth with the best of them. "Well, sir, this ship is the first of her kind. Realistically we'd expect to see some quirks and anomalies, things to be remedied in future vessels of her lineage."
"You're saying that things are running too well?"
"Not at all. I'm pleasantly surprised, not superstitious."
"Very well, Mister Wolfe."
It's part of our job to investigate and anticipate. This wasn't a "powers that be" assignment, but it might as well have been for the lack of information I'd been given about what the problem would be on this voyage. I went over that ship from nose to drive vents in my engineering role. My off duty hours were spent getting to know as many crew as possible to see if there was an internal, human threat. After a nearly sleepless year, I'd found nothing suspicious.
We're encouraged to be somewhat paranoid. Our survival often depends on it. Those of us who survive longer than a few centuries learn to reign in our paranoia, however. If everything and everyone around you looks safe, relax a bit and just keep half an eye on them. Then start looking for external problems.
There was a problem with that idea on this particular mission. The particular non-Einsteinian space travel technique in use meant that we were effectively not part of the real universe for the duration of our journey. No purely physical threat could reach us as we danced lightly across the surface of the bubble.
Yes, I'm aware that it's an inexact metaphor. All metaphors are inexact. You should really learn to take yourself less seriously, you know that?
I began to prepare for the possiblility of an external, sorcerous threat. This was after the war, so I wasn't worried about Chaos Lords, but not every dangerous entity in the universe belongs to a known group of fiends.
Towards the end of the third year, Captain Archie joined the rooster watch again. I knew, because I kept tabs on almost every crew member, that she'd been working her way through most of the eligible and attractive men on the ship. A lesser man than myself would have been offended that it took her the better part of three years to get around to me, but I wasn't interested in the Captain in the first place.
I know what you're thinking. "Sour grapes," you say. "If she'd come to you right off the bat you'd have hopped right in bed with her." No, actually, I wouldn't have. I had better things to attend to, little things like doing my job to protect the ship without anybody knowing what I was really capable of. For two years I didn't have any real off duty time. Or sleep. More to the point, however, she wasn't really my type.
Go ahead and laugh. Medium height, nice curves, dark hair, and attitude enough for three regular people. Yes, it does sound like Lynn. The key difference, for the sake of this discussion, is that Captain Archie was taking men to her bed solely for amusement. While I'm not averse to that form of amusement, when you get old enough you find that there has to be something more to a relationship. And that's the key word: relationship. No matter what you may have heard, I'm almost incapable of simply shucking clothes for a woman I have no deep emotional attachment to.
Put another way, sex without love is just bumping uglies for no good reason. That's my philosophy, and it's worked quite well for me. Love beats the hell out of sex any day of the week.
You shouldn't be talking to me about this anyway. If you really want an eloquent lecture on the subject, ask Lynn. She's tried it both ways, if you'll pardon the expression.
"Mister Wolfe, we meet again." Instead of lounging in her chair, she leaned over the backrest of mine.
"It's good to see you again, sir."
"Oh really?" I'll give her this much, she had a very expressive voice.
And so do I. "Absolutely. I was wondering how long it was going to be before you came around again."
"Why don't we talk about that. Say, my cabin? After we wake the day crew?"
She couldn't see me rolling my eyes as I answered, "Sure thing, sir. I'd be delighted."
"Good." It came out almost as a purr.
"You don't approve, do you?"
I shrugged. "It's not my place to approve of your actions, on or off duty, Captain."
"Pretend that it is, and answer the question."
"How you spend your time... more accurately, who shares your bed is irrelevant. I think you're cheapening the experience, personally. You're also raising the possibility of morale or discipline issues among crew of both sexes."
"I never take advantage of any man who's spoken for. And since you seem to know everything that goes on aboard this ship," my eyebrows went up at that, "you must know that I'm not alone in my... hobby."
"That is true," I replied, "but it has always been my experience that a ship's captain is generally held to a higher standard of behaviour." I left alone the question of how much she know about how much I knew.
"Are you saying that morality is going to completely break down and people will start having sex in the corridors?" This mental image seemed to amuse her quite a bit.
"As amusing as that might be, that's not what worries me. What happens when one of your former pets decides that he's jealous of a more recent bedmate? For that matter, what happens when you've worked your way through the available members," I paused with a naughty smirk, "and have to start all over again? It'll give new meaning to 'dereliction of duty' when the boys start queuing up outside your cabin."
"Now that's an even more interesting idea."
"You're not serious."
She laughed. "Of course not. But it is interesting."
"And you are a very naughty girl who should know better."
"I take it, then, that you're not interested?"
I actually had to blink twice. Gods and demons but this girl was direct. "Ah, I'm afraid not. No offense intended, mind you."
"None taken. May I ask why, Mister Wolfe?"
"You're not my type, Captain. Okay, you're almost my type, but I'm the sort to look for a lasting relationship. Sex is really best done with someone you love."
She was quiet for a few moments, and I knew right away what had happened. "I tried it that way. It didn't work out. This is all I have left."
"Maybe, and maybe not. Don't write it off entirely, okay?"
"There's five more years and then some before we get home. If I'm lucky he'll look different enough by then that it won't hurt to be in his presence."
"And none of these fine young crewmen are worthy enough to replace the one you lost?"
The Captain shook her head. "Not one. Don't think I haven't thought about it."
It was time to change the subject. "You mentioned how much I knew about the activities of the crew. Why?"
"You've been running background checks through the personnel database. You've actually spoken with almost every crew member long enough to do a basic psych profile. I have wondered for some time what you're up to, and..." she blushed a bit, "and I figured bringing you here would be the best way to find out."
"Severin Gifford. I wondered if he was tracing my database queries. And he was your last... plaything."
"You don't have anything against your captain mixing business and pleasure, do you?" Again with the mixed meanings. You can't fault her for trying, I suppose, especially since she had two goals in mind.
"It's positively efficient of you, sir."
"You haven't answered my question. Or do I have to tease it out of you?" She winked at me, and I couldn't help laughing.
"I'll tell you what, Captain. You tell me what you think I'm up to, I'll tell you how close you are."
"About five foot eleven, I'd say."
I gave her an unpleasant stare.
"Oh, all right. You're no fun at all."
"On the contrary, sir. I'm a veritable whirlwind of fun and excitement," I deadpanned.
That got a short bit of laughter. "Mister Wolfe, I really wish you'd reconsider. I haven't had this much fun with my clothes on since, well, before we set sail."
I bowed politely. "Thank you. That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in years."
"I'll bet. So who do you work for, and what is your agenda?"
"Ah ah ahh, Cap'n. That's not what I agreed to."
Frowning, she said, "I am the captain of this ship, mister. If I want answers out of you, I'll get answers."
"Look, I'm on your side. I really am an engineer, a damned fine one if I may say so. In my off hours... hell, during all of my hours I keep an eye out for trouble, be it mechanical or human in nature. I am sworn to protect this ship and her crew at any cost."
"But you're not going to tell me how you gained access to the personnel records, or who you really work for." She knew better than to make that a question.
"No, sir. The phrase is old and trite, but it's on a 'need to know' basis, and you don't. I hate to put it on these terms, but you'll just have to trust me."
New recruits always go to great lengths to invent a fabulous cover story to handle this kind of situation. Wasted effort, I say. Let the other person's imagination do all the work of inventing the story. The best part is, you don't have to worry about keeping the details straight afterward. It's all in their mind, so if you end up proving them wrong they're the ones who get to feel embarrassed and silly. I don't know about you, but I'd rather let them bear that burden.
Oddly enough, Captain Archie decided to trust me. I like to think that it was for the right reasons, not because she was hoping to get the truth out of me later on in some fashion.
What surprised me was that she invited me to her cabin fairly often during the following weeks. Maybe she had an image she had to maintain. Maybe she couldn't stand to lose. I tried to convince her that she should just move on and forget about me. Looking back on it, that was probably my mistake. A less ethical person might have taken advantage of the situation to allay her suspicions, but I refused to do that. And so I became mysterious and unattainable, which drives certain kinds of people absolutely insane.
I made the best of the situation by just trying to be good company. After a few episodes where she tried surprising me with flashes of skin she finally gave up on the blatant approach. This suited me just fine. She was a superbly distracting kind of woman, I don't mind saying. At any rate, we dined together (or breakfasted, depending on how you look at it) a few times a week for about two months after that first meeting.
It was during one of these dining engagements that the first tremors manifested.
Immediately we were all business. "You felt that," I stated.
"Yes. Can you guess what happened?"
"Wild speculation only, sir," I shook my head. "With your permission?"
"Go, already! Report back to me immediately."
"Yessir."
The ship's computer couldn't tell me what had happened, but sensors placed near the outer hull hinted at fluctuations in the energy bubble that carried the ship through non-space. Deciding that Captain Archie would rather have a detailed report later than an incomplete report right away, I spent an hour running my available data through some theoretical hyperspatial models. The results were inconclusive but potentially scary.
"I thought I said 'immediately,' Mister Wolfe." I was back in her cabin.
"You did, sir. As soon as I had a report worth delivering I came straight here."
"It's that bad?"
"Yes and no. No, the ship's not in obvious danger nor has it taken any discernable damage from the event. Yes, the vibrations we felt were consonant with an effort to destabilize our spacewarp field."
I'd like to see more faster-than-light drive devices that aren't referred to as somehow "warping" space. The one apparatus I've seen that actually does perform an activity that could reasonably be described as a "warp" was instead called a "spacefold generator."
I can't win, I tell you. I just can't win.
"That's impossible."
"No, sir, it's not."
Captain Archie gave me her sternest look so far. "Explain."
"The method we employ to achieve interstellar travel in a timeframe that cheats the light-speed limit involves placing an object inside an energy bubble. Anything inside the bubble exists mostly outside of what we think of as 'real' space. 'Mostly' is the operative word here. We are still a trackable entity in that real space, and if another entity had the means to travel as we do it stands to reason that they might have the ability to interfere with our energy bubble."
"Hostile aliens?"
"Pretty much, sir. I'll know more if this happens again. In the meantime I'd suggest that the official story would be that we encountered an unknown hyperspatial anomaly that is probably," I stressed that word, "a singular, naturally occuring incident."
"Is that possible?"
"Yes sir. I won't bore you with the details, though."
"Because you don't think it's a natural occurence." Once again a statement and not a question.
"To be honest? No. I'd be glad to be proven wrong, of course."
She frowned in thought for a minute. "What makes you think it's not natural?"
"What we felt as a single tremor was, according to my data, a strong tug on our field followed by several smaller events, then one last strong tug. The best analogy I can devise is that of someone trying to catch a wet football and fumbling it. Grab, slip, grab again and then the ball is gone."
"All that within a few seconds?"
"That's correct. The entire event took less than a second, actually, and the tremor we felt was more of a feedback reaction by the spacewarp bubble translated back to the ship's hull."
"If you're right, should we expect a repeat of this event?"
I shrugged. "It depends on the capabilities of the entity in question, which we are unable to discern at this time for obvious reasons."
"Can you come up with a plan of action in case there's real trouble?"
"Yes sir, I believe I can. It'll take me a day, maybe two. Lucky for you I don't sleep very often, eh?"
"Do we have that long?" she asked.
"I think so, yes. They missed their grab and they didn't immediately try again. This probably means that they'll need to think about how to approach us if they want to make a better try. They also need to catch up to us, or signal a confederate to cross our path. That should give us some time."
"You report directly to me as of right now. I'll tell the Chief that you're working on something on my orders. I'm also going to program the comm system to signal you any time I'm called to the bridge off-shift for any reason. I want you there, I don't care what you're doing when the call comes. Got that, mister?"
I saluted. "Loud and clear, Captain. Do you trust me enough not to bother you with the gory details of what I'm putting together?"
"All I want to know is whether it'll work and how long it'll take to work. And if you're as good as you keep telling me you are."
This wasn't the time for false modesty. "Better, actually."
"Good. Get to work, Mister Wolfe."
"Right away, Captain."
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