My Nanowrimo Project: An Excerpt

Another excerpt from a work in progress of mine this one a novel I worked on for November's Nanowrimo:

No Greater Enemy: Chapter One

November 11, 2519; Earth's Moon

1500 hours, Coalition Standard Time

“Who’s going to mind the shop if you’re off galivanting around the galaxy?”

Edwin recalled his father's words with perfect clarity as his fingers subconsciously played with a small pewter shamrock he kept as a good luck charm. The last time he'd heard his father ask it was when Edwin had first proposed his plan to take the Terran Galactic Naval Academy entrance exam. Edwin felt an elated rush, followed immediately by an equally strong surge of anxiety at the thought of having to come clean about his studies, and his having applied for academy membership behind his parents’ backs. For a split second, Edwin considered forgetting he’d ever taken the entrance exam and deleting the post from the public forums. Edwin was no shopkeeper. He didn’t have the patience to deal with monthly balance sheets and paperwork that amounted to little more than keeping track of yearly tax returns. No. there was only one way out of this, and it was forward. Steeling himself and pocketing the shamrock, Edwin made his way downstairs from his room in the two-story dwelling he shared with his parents to his father's office on the first floor.

“I can't believe you went and did something so reckless!"

Edwin wasn’t surprised. After all, being rewarded for your honesty only worked in holovids. Edwin sighed. After all the anxiety, all the worry over his deception and subterfuge, the response was everything he’d expected it would be. Edwin took a second look at his father, seated now behind the desk in his office at the back of the building. Darius Lindman, owner and proprietor of Tranquility Dome’s most successful starship repair facility was a man in his late 50s, though he didn’t look it. Only a small line of gray ran across the back of his full head of black hair, giving him what everyone insisted was a distinguished air. Edwin felt his father’s hazel eyes wash over him like an x-ray scanner at the doctor’s office. Edwin both respected and hated the way his father could seemingly reveal every little secret someone had just by looking at them for a few seconds. He supposed it was what made his father such a good businessman. Having the ability to read people silently, or make people THINK you could read them silently, was likely to be very useful in negotiating prices and business deals.

“Umm…” The reply was ridiculous, and he knew it. Yet what else could he say? Fortunately, his father filled the gap of silence and spared him the trouble of doing so himself.

“Edwin, you know as well as I do this shop isn’t just a business. It’s a legacy. Everything I’ve ever worked for is represented by this place. I didn’t build a prosperous business just to sell it to some stranger.”

“Dad, I know all that. But you know I’m not cut out for monthly balance sheets and selling starship parts. I’m a flyer. For crying out loud, Dad, you taught me how to fly our old sub orbital when I was sixteen. You gave me my first starfighter scale model when I was ten. I’ve been wanting to join the Naval Academy ever since. Taking over for you with the business was never my dream. It was always yours!”

Darius couldn’t help but stare in stunned silence as his son delivered his passionate, impromptu speech. “I’ve known you all your life, son; of course I remember all of that. I was hoping you’d have outgrown that fantasy by now, but apparently not.

“Edwin, I’m not going to be around forever. Someone is going to take over for me when I get too old to do this job. If not you, who? Besides, you know what things are like right now between us and the Imperium. Do you really want to be caught up in a war if one breaks out? How do you think it would feel if you were me, and you received a letter of condolence from some general you’ve never met telling you your only son, the person you’ve sacrificed nearly everything for was dead and there wasn’t so much as a fingernail left to bury?”

“Umm…” Edwin replied, caught off guard and unable to form a valid rebuttal as his brain processed the unexpected outcome of his father’s announcement. This time, though, his father waited to give Edwin the time he needed to formulate a proper response. “I…I guess I didn't think of that.”

“I didn’t think so.” Darius replied matter-of-factly. “I know you think I’m holding you back, Edwin, but you’re my only child. Can you really blame me for wanting you to be safe? For wanting you to do something more than spend your life staring down the barrel of a gun?” Satisfied that he’d made his point, Darius Lindman leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together across his chest. “Son, you’ve been afraid to tell me all this time because you thought I wouldn’t understand, but I’ve been exactly where you are now. Your grandfather, rest his soul, wanted me to join the military like him. Things were quiet then. Everything changed when the Imperium attacked. I still remember the fight we had.” Edwin’s eyes widened slightly when he heard his father’s voice break at that last sentence.

“I don’t want us to go through what I went through with my father.” Darius continued after composing himself. “Staying here’s the right thing for you, son. You’ll make a fine businessman if only you put your mind to it; I’d bet you even make this business thrive more than I did one day. And,” he laughed a little at the realization, “I’ll be able to retire and enjoy the fruits of my labor for real when I don’t have to focus on all this work.” His father had meant that last comment as a joke, Edwin knew, but the only reaction he felt was one of annoyance. “I’m not you, Dad. I don’t know what else I can say to help you see that. I’m not a businessman. I never have been. You’re forgetting how frustratingly bored I would always get when you tried to teach me how to run a business. The most fun I’ve ever had with you was when you were teaching me to fly. And besides, you’ll be able to retire regardless of whether I take over the business. Mom helped you invest. Your credits make credits! You don’t need me.” Edwin waited with renewed apprehension for his father’s answer, scared all over again now that he’d finally stood up for himself. It seemed, sadly, that his were justified.

“Dad, I know how dangerous it is out there. I’ve seen the vids. And yes, I know how dangerous things are out on the border worlds. I watch the news. But I can’t just sit behind a desk. I’d go crazy if I did. I need to be out there, among the stars. It’s a moot point anyway. My exam was a pass. Near perfect score, in fact. I’m due to ship out to the academy in a week.”

The look that crossed Darius Lindman’s face was one Edwin had seen many times before. Nevertheless it brought him up short, preventing him from speechifying any further. Shivers coursed through Edwin that he was barely able to suppress, as he’d only had to see that particular look on his father’s face when he’d severely misbehaved. Even now, at 21, it was enough to reduce him to a nervous, quivering child awaiting punishment.

“I see you refuse to see reason.” His father replied coldly which, Edwin was convinced, caused the room’s temperature to drop a full ten degrees. “Your grandfather refused to see reason, as well.” Edwin blinked in surprise at the declaration. Grandpa Lindman was the one thing his father never talked about. The one time Edwin had gathered the courage to ask about him, he'd been so thoroughly rebuffed that Edwin never brought the topic up again.

"Your grandfather was stubborn, too. He insisted that it was his patriotic duty to sign up. That the Coalition would need every good man they could get in the war effort. And do you know what he got in return for his patriotism, Edwin?" Edwin did know, but recognized the question as rhetorical.

"Death. He got shot down in a dogfight a thousand light years from here eight days before the armistice was signed. And your grandmother? She got some words of gratitude, a flag, and a pension." Edwin saw it, then; The fear behind the bravado. It wasn't an angry father he was speaking to, Edwin realized, but a grieving son. A man who didn't want to see history repeat itself.  “Dad…”

“Don't." Whatever Edwin had been about to say died in his throat. "Don't give me platitudes or false hopes, Edwin. Don't make promises you can't keep." Darius took another deep breath to gather his thoughts and calm himself once more, giving Edwin a chance to reply.

"Dad, they aren't false hopes. I'm not being put into active combat. We're not even at war. It's about as dangerous as being assigned to Antarctica on Earth." Darius's shoulders slumped. "Then there's only one more question for me to ask." Edwin waited with baited breath to hear his father's next argument about why he should stay, only to be dumbfounded at what he heard.

"Promise you'll write home every once in a while?"

The two met each other's eyes, father to son. Man to man.

“I’ll make you proud, Dad. I promise.”

***

November 18, 2523; 2130 Hours, CST

Loosening the safety harness from around his upper body, Newly graduated 2nd Lt. Edwin Lindman stood and hefted the duffle bag over one shoulder after he felt the small transport vessel dock with Station Artemis 3. To either side and in front of him, the rest of his troop compliment did the same, with varying degrees of relief or complaint. For his part, Edwin was just glad to be free of what he privately referred to as a human-sized sardine can. Edwin stepped out with the rest of the transport’s passenger compliment and looked around to take in his immediate surroundings.

Standing up straight to his full 6’ 1”, Lt. Lindman took the time to observe before he began walking towards the nearest onboard map. The station looked much like the academy back home on the inside, if far less opulent. Where the academy was freshly painted and had all manner of artwork and photographs covering its walls, Artemis 3’s gunmetal grey bulkheads were bare. Decoration didn’t serve much of a purpose out here at the farthest reaches of Confederation space. You might find the odd plant spread here and there throughout the hallways and in crew quarters, but even that was more for practical reasons regarding oxygen supply than anything else. The outside of the station had been much the same, emphasizing function over form, looking for all the universe like a giant shipping container floating in space. It was likely the same for all bases this far out from the Sol system.

It didn’t take long for Edwin to find the map he was looking for and scanning through it, at a four-way junction on a terminal built into the center. As he walked, he realized fully for the first time that he was not, as they said, in Kansas anymore. A station like Artemis 3 closer to Earth’s solar system would have had civilian families, shops, businesses, and even civilian housing aboard. Based on what he saw, Artemis 3 itself was downright spartan. The bright side, though, was the ease with which the uniformed layout allowed him to find his quarters. Once he had the information he sought, Edwin began walking at a brisk pace, eager to settle in before his first duty shift. His orders had been simple and straightforward enough: Report for duty at Station Artemis 3 to receive posting aboard the new star carrier being commissioned, the Jasmine Stream.

The duffle hit the floor with a thud, and only then did he realize just how exhausted the flight from the academy on Earth had been. Taking in the utilitarian décor which consisted only of the bed, a single footlocker, and a small desk and terminal for communications and recreation, Edwin barely had time to notice that the mattress was softer than he was expecting before sleep took him.