Tag Archives: Days Until Home

Days Until Home – Chapter 09

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Days Until Home: UNKNOWN

The view of the black would’ve been breathtaking if she weren’t slowly suffocating in a suit that was supposed to keep her alive. Even the heads-up display was reduced to a quarter-inch piece of Lexan. No alarms told her that she wasn’t getting oxygen. A severe chill pressed against her, leeching the warmth from her bones. She could feel the X-shaped bruise forming across her torso. Erika closed her eyes and willed the sea of glowing emeralds, rubies, and sapphires from her sight.

No engineer worth her training couldn’t feel a tether’s gentle tug against her EVA suit. But, Erika thought, I’m not on an EVA.

The tug was there nonetheless. The thin material of her launch suit wasn’t designed for extended forays into the black of space. She tried to cross her arms to warm her torso, but her arms splayed akimbo. She had gotten used to the soft roll of Egeria-13, and like it was a religious pilgrimage, she had always found a portal to watch Sol rise during each of the three times it happened every Earth day. She was used to the microgravity produced by the spud’s nineteen kilometers a second, and now that it was gone, she felt an impending dread in the pit of her stomach.

Her tether tugged at her again. The lurch pained her bruises, and her arms floated into her field of vision for a moment. Her eyes welled with tears. Her left glove appeared fine, but her right glove was missing, as was everything below her forearm. Erika sucked in a breath. Cold radiated up her right arm and settled in her elbow.

Another tug, and another brief moment of her limbs coming into view. Some metal, scorched, and black against the white of her suit reflected ambient light. Stress was evident from the bubbled edges of the metal. Even in that moment of visibility, she could see that her suit terminated at the metal, brown and black residue ran up her suit arm.

What the hell is that tug? she thought as her arms floated into view once again.

Her left glove twitched. No, she thought, not my glove, my fingers.

She clenched her fist, and her left hand slowly responded. She could feel the thin material of her launch gloves against her knuckles.

When the tug happened again, she tried to memorize what she saw of her left arm. The white material formed around her arm, and it appeared to be the proper color. She rotated her elbow and felt the material shift against her forearm and elbow. The tugs were happening at regular intervals, and she braced herself against the impending pain.

She may have wanted to brace herself, but shock defeated her plans as her vision filled with debris from the Kerwood. Beyond that, she caught a glimpse Egeria-13. To her, it looked like a gray, partially deflated soccer ball. They were moving away from the rock, but in what direction?

Dark shapes danced at the edges of her vision, and she was tugged back once again.
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Days Until Home – Chapter 08

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Days Until Home: UNKNOWN

“Hey Skip, this is the guy that I was telling you about. Booker Hawkins,” Angelo Lu said as he approached the lone, dark table in the back of the lounge.

Winchester Hayes kept his eyes on his coffee for a few more seconds before looking up to acknowledge him. Goddamn it Lu, he thought, you know that I need prep time before meeting these candidates. He inhaled and tried to not make it look obvious that he was doing so and checked his speech to make sure that he was coming off professional.

“Mr. Lu, always a pleasure to see you, Chief.” He got up and shook the shorter man’s hand and applied the squeeze in a way to let him know that he wasn’t happy.

He noticed for the first time the handsome black man that was standing behind Lu. He was his height, 6’ even, broad shouldered, and wore a look of determination across his smooth, shaved face. Winchester stepped away from Lu and shook hands with Booker.

“So you’re Dacascos’s old pilot eh?” he remarked, noticing that Booker’s shake was strong but not as firm as he expected.

“Yes sir, that’s me, alright. I piloted the Shirley for Captain Dacascos for three long years. Good to meet you, Captain Hayes.” He seemed to want to get off the subject as fast as they had wandered into it.

“The Shirley … what a dumb name for a ship – don’t worry Booker, me and Dacascos are tight. I wouldn’t sit here badmouthing his sweetheart with anything new. You know what I mean? I break his balls about that ship every time I see him. You do know why he named her that, right?”

“I dunno, Captain Hayes, I’m thinking it was an ex-wife, mom, something like that?”

“It was his damn dog back on earth. That clown had one of those annoying chihuahua hybrids. Rat dogs I call them. Loved that beast more than his own damn wife, and then it ups and dies on him.” He reached back for his coffee mug and drained the rest, then looked past Booker to the waiter and raised it up to let him know that he was empty. “So, yeah. A beautiful piece of machinery like that ship of his, he names it after a rat dog.”

“I’m sure the Kerwood has a noble history behind its name, Captain,” Booker said, and Hayes looked at him as if he had just insulted his mother.

“First rule, Booker T—”

“Just Booker, Captain—”

“First rule, Book. Keep it respectful like you’re doing now, but other than the Kerwood, my orders, and the mission, you and I are still two men. So, stow the pleasant wafting of smoky fumes up my hairy, earth-born ass, please. I know that some of these douchebags love that shit,” Winchester swept his arm across the room to indicate the numerous officers and ship owners that were enjoying their meals, “but I ain’t one of them.”

“So I hear, Captain. No smoke up your ass, I got it,” Booker said, smiling for the first time and looking as if he was stifling a laugh.
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Days Until Home – Chapter 07

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Days Until Home: UNKNOWN

The taste of the stale calorie bar still lingered in Viktor Sharapov’s mouth when the ship began to tremble.

His eyes shot open.

“Whoo boy,” Jimmy said. He was two seats down, and his voice sounded muffled. “Now it’s a party.”

Viktor realized why his voice sounded strange: it wasn’t coming from the receiver in his helmet. Because Jimmy wasn’t wearing one.

It sat in his lap, quiet and unused.

The trembling grew stronger, wobbling Viktor’s seat.

“Jimmy!” Viktor yelled. “Put your helmet on!”

The kid picked up his helmet, but not to put it on. He held it to his ear to use the comms, like a sphere-shaped telephone. “What’s that, Vicky?”

“Put your slagging helmet on!” Viktor looked around the launch hallway, at the handful of other miners who hadn’t bothered to follow protocol. The vibration in his seat bones increased.

“All of you. Do as I say. Connor! Do you not feel this?”

The ops manager twisted in his seat. “Relax. The ship isn’t exactly new. Always some bumps. If the engineering team signed off on the launch…”

A sudden jolt threw everyone’s heads forward.

The room spun. Everything was wrong. For a brief, horrific moment Viktor was certain his head had been sliced off and was now tumbling across the room independent of his body.

But it wasn’t just his head. The entire seat had become dislodged from its base, sending him in a slow arc through the air, tugged by the miniscule gravity created by the Kerwood’s thrust. Viktor bounced off the far wall gently. Two screws and a hexagon nut hit the wall within his view. From the seat mounting.

Cheering echoed in his helmet, and in the muffled air on the other side of his visor. He looked around the hallway as his seat rotated back into view.

The entire mining crew was whooping and whistling, clapping their gloved hands together. Only Jessica didn’t join in the cheer, and leaned back in her chair defeated.

“I do not understand,” Viktor muttered to nobody in particular.

“Of course you’d be the one,” Jimmy said. “Luckiest Russian that ever lived.”

“Lucky?”

“The fun seat,” Jimmy said, as if that were explanation enough. When it became clear it was not, he added, “We’ve been taking bets on when it’d finally go. I put a week’s pay down that it would happen on launch. Jessica took the bet.”
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Days Until Home – Chapter 06

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Days Until Home: UNKNOWN

She couldn’t help but hear it. A chorus of overlapping voices she didn’t recognize. The terse orchestra of unknown instruments playing notes that did not exist. The bark of a hellhound banished to the darkness of humanity’s worst nightmare. It was like infinite simultaneous strikes of a hammer on a single anvil. Each strike was more thunderous than the last, compressed into a fraction of a second. The sound hit Adelaide’s chest and pushed her against her launch chair. The warm familiar embrace of her chair was something that her brain could actually comprehend. Vomit sprayed the inside of her launch helmet, tendrils formed mucousy bubbles as the lack of gravity pooled them into slimy globules of the breakfast she missed as she ran around the Kerwood just before launch from Egeria-13. She could only gape at the violence perpetrated on her, her shipmates, and the metal can she had called home for far too long.

Adelaide reached to her chest to feel the copper mesh beneath her coveralls. She knew, as she had known so many times leading up to launch that her pirate transponder was where it needed to be for her plans. They won’t be able to find me, her overtaxed brain decried. She tried to assess the situation, but her neurons fired faster than time could account for. Her heart paused, the cacophony of destruction lasted the finite gulf between beats. She reached to wipe the grotesquery from her vision, but her gloved hand struck the smooth Lexan dome of her borrowed launch helmet. She dared not act without thinking long and hard about what was happening. A wrong move so far from home would leave her floating in the black with only the rocks, and the smell of vomit as her companions until she became another statistic in the treatise of space travel.

This is going to be foul, she thought. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, pushed her face against her visor, and slowly rotated her head back and forth. The topography of her eyes, cheeks, and nose, performed their job with diligence, collecting the spew from her only view of her new reality.

Foul does little to describe it, she thought as greenish bile oozed to the sides of her face as she continued to shake her head. She blinked the stinging stench from her eyes and as she focused through the Lexan, the first thing she saw was an ashen face introverted, tongue hanging out as an unsuited miner, still strapped to her launch chair floated by. The nametag on her dirty mining coveralls declared this unfortunate soul to be FREITAG. German for ‘free day,’ she thought. It amazed her that her addled brain would endow these useless tidbits upon her at such a time. A sudden shock ran up Adelaide’s spine as her eyes locked on a piece of shrapnel that protruded from Freitag’s chest, with a trail of crimson bubbles that floated away like a comet that just couldn’t be bothered to have a proper tail.

Adelaide couldn’t believe her ears. Silence. It could’ve been due to shock, but she was certain that missing was the telltale hiss of the suit’s oxygenator. Even without gravity, she knew her constant companion – a neighbor she trusted – the Kerwood’s thrusters were dead.

So much for the plans of mice and men, she thought as she continued to survey the destruction that a vengeful God had wrought. She looked around the passageway she had sat over in Auxiliary Propulsion only moments before, and she knew that they were now more than forty-one days until home. Who knew how long the potato-shaped gray features of Egeria-13 would be their only neighbor?
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Days Until Home – Chapter 05

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Days Until Home: 41

“This is slim, Lu. When I gave the okay to cut the rations, I was assuming it would be about 500 calories.”

Winchester Hayes paced the small space like a panther as he looked at Angelo with some frustration. “This sort of thing could get messy. You’re a small guy, so it works out for you but imagine a man my size trying to live off of this.” He gestured with a block of hardened nutrient paste.

Lu slicked back his hair and looked around, then leaned in to the captain and whispered, “You can always get more if you like, Captain. It’s the—”

“Not the point,” Winchester said, his voice loud and commanding. Angelo Lu looked around frantically and then resigned himself to listen.

“Captain, we had no choice with the food supply going bad all of a sudden. You told me to always plan for the worst case scenario and with our trip, these reduced rations will get us all the way through. I’m not trying to see my crew mates hungry, but we’ve been generous with rations the entire time here.”

“What about the packets from the esprISSo coffee maker? Is there something we can do with that?” Winchester said.

“In a pinch I suppose, if we deplete all our rations. But I don’t see that happening now. We caught it just in time and everyone gets to eat … really, Skip, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Winchester Hayes considered the situation and decided that Lu knew what he was doing—

Femke Gerhardt slipped in through the narrow passageway and placed her back on the bulkhead near Angelo Lu. “We can hear you guys in here discussing the rations. Do you mind if I give you my two cents?”

“What you got, Funky?” Winchester said, and he folded his arms defensively.

Femke said, “This is going to sound like paranoia, but hear me out. I have a hunch that someone purposefully sabotaged our supplies.”

“Oh boy,” Angelo said and rolled his eyes, “Do we really want to go down this path, Skip?”

“FIFTEEN MINUTES!” Gauge yelled out from the bridge and Winchester winced at the lack of time.

“Got it, big man,” Winchester yelled, “We’ll be right there.”

“Listen Cap,” Femke said, “You should talk to Marisol. There’s a rumor that we have a Lunar baby onboard the ship. Now, I’m not saying that he means to sabotage the mission, but what if he could make us sweat, you know, to meet some sort of anarchist agenda?”

“I don’t like to tell people this but I have an uncle who was a member of that church,” Angelo said. “People make mistakes. Come to our house and he’d dote on you until you begged him to stop. Just because someone’s parents were a part of that sick cult does not mean that they are out to poison our food supply. I mean, really, Femke? That is your enlightening addition? We just lost five minutes of strategy listening to your bigoted opinion.”
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Days Until Home – Chapter 04

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Days Until Home: 42

The sensation of removing a vacuum enviro-suit after a fourteen hour shift was the closest thing to pure pleasure Viktor ever experienced.

First he had to walk backwards into his locker, hooking his backpack-like life support system onto the wall so it could disconnect the various electronics. His bulky outer suit came off next, a ten minute process which required twisting the torso off the waist, unsnapping the seemingly endless pressure clips at the seams and along his hands, before pulling it all over his head. After that, the pants came off easier.

That left the three underlayers. The micrometeoroid garment, which crumpled loudly like plastic as it came off and went into the locker. The bio layer, which contained his waste bag, water supply, and liquid cooling flow system. All of it had a habit of shrinking when he perspired–which was every time he put the damned things on–so fifteen minutes of twisting and struggling and he was down to his underwear.

He sat on the bench of the Kerwood’s change room, allowing the cool air to hit his exposed body. He was red and splotchy all over, with crease lines criss-crossing his skin. They were done. The last load completed, all the excavation equipment returned to the cargo hold. He took long, deep breaths, savoring the satisfaction. If Helena could see him in that moment she’d frown, cross her arms over her breasts, and demand to know why he never looked that happy when he was with her.

The sound of the door banging open broke the reverie. Jimmy waddled inside, his own enviro-suit covered in grey bits of asteroid. He grinned at Viktor and spoke in a muffled voice behind his helmet.

Viktor raised an eyebrow and tapped his own skull. Jimmy rolled his eyes and then twisted the helmet off. “Every time, boss. I swear I do that every time.”

“You should be more conscious of your environment,” Viktor said.

Jimmy sat heavily onto the bench. “Oh I’m conscious, alright. I’m conscious of the fact that we busted our butts and finished an hour early! Time to get off this potato rock.”

For once the kid’s enthusiasm didn’t grate at Viktor.

Jimmy began removing the various clasps from his suit. He eyed the older Russian. “Hey. Vicky. Listen, about what happened yesterday…”

Viktor waved a hand. “Forget it.”

“No, see, I feel bad. Connie told me you rushed over to the site. Is it true?” He paused. “You steeplechased your way to save me?”

Viktor sighed. After Connor wrote the kid up he’d been apologizing every hour on the hour. Viktor hated the retroactive sympathy more than the recklessness of the act itself.

“Da,” he said. “It’s true.”

Jimmy whistled through his teeth. “Connie showed me the position logs, but I wasn’t sure if he was foolin’. You were only a few meters per second of delta-v from hitting escape velocity.”
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Days Until Home – Chapter 03

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Days Until Home: 43

Jeremy Thompkin swirled the caramel liquid in his middy. He regarded the dead soldiers stacked on the smooth wood surface. The quality of spirits and the mere existence of the wooden table in this bar spoke volumes to the money that flowed through the Kerwood Conglomerate. He drained the middy. The damn thing’s made of glass, he thought and scowled as he turned it over and nestled it on top of the pyramid.

“There are a lot of dead soldiers in that pile.”

Jeremy looked toward the feminine voice. “That used to mean something entirely different,” he replied.

“Only to servicemen,” the auburn haired woman started, and she let the sentence fade when she saw Jeremy’s face cloud. “War veteran?” she asked and smoothed the top of her pale blue dress. The color was like a cloudless spring day, and it matched her eyes as if the cloth were individually dyed to match.

Jeremy’s head bobbed, and he kicked the equally opulent wooden chair facing him out from the other side of the table. “Sapper Regiment,” he declared and motioned to the empty chair with one hand while waving the other to garner the attention of the wait staff.

“Fourth ADF Engineers?” the brunette in the blue dress asked.

Jeremy frowned. He cringed at the thought of the Australian Defense Force reduced to an acronym. “You obviously know, uh, miss?”

“Sullivan,” she replied, and extended a hand to Jeremy. He shook it, and internally acknowledged her firm grip. She didn’t flinch from his missing fingers. “Sapphire Sullivan,” she concluded as she withdrew her hand into her lap. “That means you saw action in your own backyard,” she said. “The Fall of Brisbane?”

Jeremy nodded. He could hear the capital letters when she spoke of the battle. “Anywhere they sent us.”

A server placed two new middies at the edge of the table. “Lone Pine?” Sapphire asked with a quiet reverence.

Jeremy flinched.

“Ah,” Sapphire said and held out her hand palm toward the fidgeting Sapper from the Fourth Australian Defense Engineering battalion. He had not only seen the worst humanity had to offer; not only the end of the war but had been there to witness the scorched glass that had at one time been the oldest animal refuge on the planet. “No need to elaborate, Lieutenant Thompkin, your reaction to the name even ten years later confirms my suspicion.” She reached for one of the middies. “To fallen comrades,” she declared and held her middy aloft.

Jeremy picked up the remaining middy, and echoed, “To fallen comrades.”

They clinked their glasses, and each took a small sip of the single cask. The bar wouldn’t breach a bottle unless the patron in question knew that it was his or her responsibility to purchase the entire bottle.

Jeremy and Sapphire did their duty, and each sipped the two fingers of whiskey until the middies were empty. Jeremy placed his middy beside the pyramid, starting another layer.

Sapphire clutched her middy to her breast, and declared, “Many veterans claim they were at Lone Pine.”
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Days Until Home – Chapter 02

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Days Until Home: 44

A family of three smiled out from the static monitor of the frame that sat atop the desk inside of the captain’s quarters. There was a handsome brunette, strong in her looks as well as her frame, and a tall, tired-looking man, with his arm slung lazily around her waist. In front of them was a grinning boy, smiling at the camera as he clutched a model spaceship. Behind them stood a large house and white picket fence to complete the cliché.

Keeping it company was an assortment of sheets, plastic substrates that reflected photos and details, scattered about as if someone had thrown them out of a box. The man behind the desk made perfect company for the mess. His eyes were puffy and didn’t seem to open past the slats that served as windows into a dark and dangerous place.

Winchester Hayes picked up one of the sheets and flipped it around in order to read the information on the back. “Everything checks out,” he muttered to himself and then got up and walked across the room to where the circular porthole revealed the monochromatic horizon line of the asteroid. “If I die on this spud I’m slapping god,” he muttered and then shifted his eyes to watch the miners.

“Yeah, that’s it, work as slow as possible,” he muttered, “this is what they send me out here with. Laggards.” He shook his head and turned back to his desk, his hand smoothing back his thick brown hair.

A slight movement distracted him and he glanced at his bed where a smooth, shapely leg had managed to escape from beneath the covers. “I’ll see you up there,” he announced, as he grabbed his jacket and threw it on before exiting the door.

As he passed by his desk, the edge of his jacket knocked over the frame, and the family became as forgotten as they had been for the last few hours of his life. He walked the dark passageway and then rounded the corner, pushing his way past a deckhand who was going back to his room.

“Morning Captain!” The man said, and Winchester stopped, turned around and regarded him.

“Morning? How the hell can you tell?”

“By the time, sir, it’s 5—”

“Goddamn it, Richard, it’s a friggin joke. I know what time of day it is. We’ve been here, what, fourteen days? Anyway, as you were,” he said and pushed past him to resume his march. The tight passageway was beginning to see a lot of activity, so Winchester pushed past several other workers to climb the stairs that led up to the bridge.

“Captain on the bridge,” a man in a powder blue jumpsuit announced and Winchester stopped and stared at him. When he had looked at the man long enough for it to become uncomfortable, he slowly looked around the room, as if to see if anyone would respond.

“Lu, it’s only us. Who the hell are you announcing that to?”

“Sticking to protocol, Skip, the way you instructed me to. Would you prefer if I stopped announcing your taking the bridge?”

“I need coffee, where the hell is my coffee?”
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Days Until Home – Chapter 01

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Days Until Home: 45

Viktor Sharapov took one careful step after another, holding the plastic composite crate at arm’s length as he made his way across the asteroid’s pock-marked surface. The contents of the crate–mostly yttrium and scandium, and a few other lanthanides–were worth more than Viktor could make in a thousand lifetimes, so he held it with a reverence somewhere between a newborn child and a bomb.

Viktor sighed, fogging the glass faceplate of his suit and obscuring the grey-against-black landscape. He had to watch where he walked, ensuring good purchase on each step–no easy feat while carrying the crate. Most of the asteroid was made of nickel-iron ore and carbon, but occasional pools of frozen hydrocarbons dotted the landscape, traps waiting to trip him up and send him falling. It would have been easier to disable his magnetic boots and leap into the air, traveling in a long arc toward the Kerwood. The microgravity of Egeria-13, the potato-shaped asteroid that they’d called home for the past two weeks, made such a feat possible.

But the microgravity also meant he was just as likely to reach escape velocity as land back on the asteroid. Drifting through the black for the rest of his life–which would be about four more hours, based on his suit oxygen level–was not an enticing prospect.

Still, Viktor daydreamed of leaping back to the ship in one momentous bound.

Another sigh covered his faceplate with moisture, forcing him to stop and wait for it to disperse. Micro-fractures in the seam along the glass, just enough to be annoying. Slagging credit-pinchers, he silently cursed. He’d been requesting new suits for himself and his miners for the past three contracts. Every time the supply manager patiently nodded, feigning concern on his face and assuring Viktor they would do what they could. And every time, the request was denied. Sooner or later one of the suits would malfunction and kill one of them. A negligence lawsuit would kill their profits more than the cost of a few new suits.

Cheap suits. Cheap drilling candles. Cheap orbital transfers. These days nothing mattered, so long as the costs were kept low and the profits high.

Viktor resumed his steady march across the grey, until the rim of an especially large crater appeared and the Kerwood came into view.

She was ugly, with the not-quite-sleek design only a space-faring vehicle could suffer. A short, fat fuselage with a pair of ion engines on the back that looked like used toilet paper rolls. Most of the bulk was the cargo bay that ran along the belly underneath.

Still, the Kerwood had been home for the past dozen contracts, and she hadn’t failed them yet.

A light inside Viktor’s helmet flicked on as a short-range radio broadcast connected. The voice of the ops manager, Connor, filled his helmet. “About fragging time, Viktor. You stop to take a piss out there?”

If Viktor squinted, he could see Connor’s silhouette in the square window above the cargo ramp. “You bet,” he replied in accented English, the common language among most of the crew. “Wanted to see how far it’d go in the microgravity, but it curved so far over the horizon I lost sight. Too strong for my own good.”
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Days Until Home – Introduction

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Only a week to go before Days Until Home. That’s March 16th for those who’re currently sans calendar. This is going to be a fun collaboration between myself, David Kristoph, and Greg Dragon. Here’s the dealio on our 21-week web serial:

The serial will run each Wednesday, starting with David, followed by Greg, and finally I’ll wrap up the cycle. We’ll each write this space disaster web series, alternating chapters. David is doing the miners, Greg is doing the bridge crew, and I’m doing the engineers.

I was in a Burger King yesterday, and one of the managers was asking about the project. He insisted that “Scotty” was overdone, and I should maybe consider an Australian engineer named Jeremy (his name.) Well, I’m a good sport, and love you fans dearly, so, at least, one of my characters will be an Australian engineer named Jeremy.

So, the basic premise is that a spaceship is on a mining mission to the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. The mining is all done, and the ship is preparing to head back to home to Earth. DISASTER! Something blows up, the ship is disabled, and a bunch of the crew is driftwood. Think Gravity but cooler. Because hey, if my girl Sandy B. were on our ship, we wouldn’t have a problem, right? (BBT reference!) Now, each of us is going to assume that our faction is responsible for the disaster. We’re not going to say precisely that we did it, but we’ll be dropping red herrings, and our POV will be that we’re the bad guys.

But we don’t know who done it. You guys will vote around week fifteen or so on who you think done it. Whatever faction gets the most votes is the faction that done it. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Of course, we invite you all to let us know how the serial is going in the comments. You’ll have fifteen weeks to gauge the story, and make suggestions, etc, but when the votes are tallied, we’ll have our villains.

This 21-week epic is going to be… well, epic. It’ll be fascinating to see how our styles mesh. David is crazy with the outlining. Even his bullet points have bullet points. His Tales of a Dying Star series is a taut and concise five-book adventure you should check out right away. You all know I’m a total pantser. Click on the projects page to see all the rough stuff I’ve started but have yet to complete. I scoff at outlines! (Except David’s, he insisted I not scoff at his outline for this project.) Greg is somewhere between David and me. Be sure to check out Greg’s Vestalia series. David and Greg are both long-form writers, and I’m a short fiction/flash fiction kind of guy. They’re both tasty humans, and I’m a sentient drinks machine… no, wait. Ignore that last one. (Yes, that was a nod to Sir Terry Pratchett, RIP.)

Anyway, we hope that fans of them will become fans of mine and all the permutations and combinations of that statement. (Nerd joke!) I could draw a Venn diagram, but that would be stupid. You all know about me, so here are the public bios of David and Greg (I managed to get ahold of their driver’s license photos):

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