Celebrating a Special Day with a #Snippet

Writers are quirky. Every year I observe the birthday of a particular person who doesn't exist...except in my mind. When she first took shape on the page, her birthday was in the future. Now time has marched on and that date has come and gone.

My character would be (and now was) born in 2012.

She turned six years old yesterday, on 09/09/18.

Her tale begins in 2039, now just 21 short years into our future.

Her story is titled The Outer Planets.

This is the first introduction to Lissa Bruce, in a place and time where she is forced to face a horrendous truth by doing the one thing she never thought she'd do. It reveals her vulnerabilities and weaknesses, but it also showcases her inner strengths, her defiance, her anger, and her determination not to be destroyed by forces and circumstances entirely beyond her control. 

17 April 2039

“Hello, bitch,” Lissa Bruce whispered.

Outside the portal, a leviathan floated in all her gloating glory . Running lights on full, insignias glowing, silver carbon skin stretched tight over her multi-deck carcass. Damned ship had been nothing but heartache. The research vessel too tough to die.

Seated in a flight couch, Lissa gazed across space while the pilot maneuvered the ten-passenger shuttle along the starboard flank of the big ship, lining up with the docking bay. When the upper hull of the giant blotted out the sun, three-story high letters emblazoned on her side stood out in bold relief:

NSS ROBERT BRADLEY

Lissa’s gut tightened. The vessel had been re-christened in honor of its original skipper. The 45-year-old general officer, an icon murdered in his prime, had left her a widow. Except she hadn’t technically been married, he hadn’t really been murdered, and her identity had been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

She could imagine him gazing at his ship, arms crossed and feet planted, glancing her way with smug satisfaction.

The definition of irony: When a ship you despise becomes your only safe haven.

Soon after, Lissa must face someone who has played a major role in her life. Neither friend, foe nor love interest, this formidable man may, nonetheless, hold the key to her future--if she has one.

The shuttle made a smooth union with the airlock and green lights activated on the cabin panel. “Dock integrity confirmed,” a voice said on the speaker.

Lissa gathered her two bags from the bin and moved to the hatch. Now for the tough part. Facing Daniel.

The pilot motioned to the com-con switch on the bulkhead to the right of the hatch. Lissa pressed it. “Crewmember Lissa Bruce, requesting permission to come aboard.”

She waited while soft space static played on the speakers.

“The NSS Robert Bradley welcomes you, Ms. Bruce,” a deep and familiar voice answered. “Permission granted.”

“That’s the old man himself,” the pilot whispered. “Captain Storing.”

“In the flesh,” Lissa acknowledged, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin. Daniel wasn’t going to make the most congenial greeting party, but she owed him her trust, her complete and unquestioning support. He had his own cross to bear in proving himself to both Mission Control and his crew.

The hatch hissed open. Lissa nodded her thanks to the pilot and carried her bags into the airlock. The rush of intermingling atmospheres brushed her face and lifted the hair off her shoulders, bringing a sad smile to her lips. So like a desert breeze on a cool spring day. Something she wouldn’t experience again for a long, long time.

The pressure equalized, and the inner hatch popped. Lissa squinted when the Bradley’s interior lighting flooded the small chamber. In the glare stood an imposing man wearing full naval dress uniform and no trace of a smile.

Willing her legs forward, Lissa stepped onto the deck of Captain Daniel Storing’s ship. Behind her, the hatch to the docking bay closed with a clack, followed by a low rumble as the airlock depressurized.

Escape route sealed. Point of no return.

She looked into the commanding blue eyes of the man before her. The eyes of Zeus, as an awestricken friend had once described them. He studied her, neither relief nor anger evident in his gaze, his face molded into its usual professional scowl.

“Welcome aboard, Ms. Bruce.”

As a civilian, no salute was in order. “Thank you, Captain.”

He stepped forward to shake her hand, and she dropped her bags to the deck. His fair hair was cut in a standard military chop, though there’d been no gray at his temples the last time she’d seen him. She waited for his reaction to her new look. None came.

“It’s good to be onboard,” she said, cursing the slight quaver in her voice. So much for keeping emotions in check; Daniel knew her too well, and he wasn’t easily fooled. He must’ve known that stepping onto this ship was like walking into the jaws of hell—but a far safer hell than the one lying in wait for her back on Earth.

Daniel turned aside and spoke to a subordinate standing behind him. “Lieutenant, alert Mission Control our crew roster is complete.”

  

Now that you've you've met her, you can bet she's in for the ride of her life.

Happy Birthday, Lissa Bruce.

May your birthday present next year be 

that your story is being shared with the world.

The Tower of Voices: A Somber Memorial

This week also has the far more sobering anniversary of one of the most horrific events in American history. Tomorrow is 9/11. It's been 17 years since that fateful morning when a nation reeled in disbelief at what was unfolding before their eyes. I was one of them, watching as the first tower of the World Trade Center fell on live television. This country suddenly felt a lot more helpless, and a lot less safe as thousands of innocent people paid with their lives at the hands of a group of indiscriminate terrorists.  

Yesterday, I saw a brief news story on a special memorial that's being built to honor the Hero Flight, and the brave passengers who made the difficult decision that day to fight back against the evil men who had hijacked United Flight 93, which many believe was intended to strike our nation's capital and which, in spite of the brave passengers' efforts to take back the plane, crashed in a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, killing everyone onboard.

This memorial was dedicated yesterday. It includes a monument built on the site of the crash which is now called "Sacred Ground," a visitor center that tells the story of the passengers, and a memorial called the Tower of Voices. The 93-foot-tall structure will, when completely finished, hold 40 wind chimes, one for the voice of each passenger that perished that day.

Here's a brief video from Sunday Morning program titled Voices in the Wind, that shows the memorial and the music from some of the first chimes added, along with more of the story about the sacrifices made by the passengers of what has come to be known as the Hero Flight.

  

May we never forget.

Thanks for joining me. Have a great week.