Christopher James

Decided this would be a good opportunity to showcase a little bit of the book, and so I’m uploading the first chapter. Enjoy!

STARSHIP FABLE: CHAPTER ONE

I’m not sure how to start. I’ve never written anything before. Well, nothing like this. I guess I should start by introducing myself. My name is Jack Danner and I was born 45 years before the start of this story – I am some years older now, as I write this. Some time after being born, I met my wife and soulmate – Marie. My love for her, my attraction to her, was instant. We became best friends instantly, and I don’t think we spent a day apart after the moment we met. I never dreamt of a world, where I had, or even wanted, children. Until I met her. She was seven years my junior and kindled desires inside me I didn’t know I had. I like to think that was mutual – we can never truly know what another is feeling – though she has often said as much.

As a result, we had three children in rapid succession. I am many things, as you will come to learn, but first and foremost a father. Our first girl, James. Then our boy Joe. And finally, the baby, Beatrix – or Trixie, as we all call her. A few years ago, when the children were all finally double-digits in age, we had the privilege and opportunity to finance a starship.

Much earlier, after I was born, but before I met my wife, I fantasized about traveling the stars as my livelihood. Didn’t matter what I was doing, I just wanted to fly around the galaxy. I lived my entire life on Voss Station – the orbital port of call for the planet Voss Prime. My father was an admin for station communications, my mother managed a gift shop. Watching the long haul freighters come and go from our apartment on the hab ring, I was constantly filled with a great yearning and a sense of galactic adventure.

As I grew older, I imagined myself giving up all I had to be a crewman on a long haul freighter. Not that I wanted to be a crewman, a captain is the ultimate position on a starship – but a crewman was within grasp. I could just give up my current life and go. I didn’t have much to even give up. I never had the courage to do it, though. I would tell myself “soon”, maybe next year. Fear, they say, can cripple us. I lived much of my life as a cripple, in this regard. I accepted the monotony of my daily life as a comfort, and made myself as content as possible in that.

My aspirations did lead me somewhere, though. I began work with the Voss Station Shuttle Services after finishing school, and worked my way up to pilot. From cleaning the shuttles out after transit, to flying them, it was a natural progression for me – and I was good at it. My days consisted of shuttling passengers back and forth between Voss Station and a half-dozen cities on Voss Prime. It wasn’t Captain of an interstellar freighter, but I got to fly a rounded box in and out of atmosphere everyday and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. 

I didn’t come from any kind of particular privilege outside of not being destitute, like so many who are born in the outer rim. I’m thankful for that, I’m not sure I would have had the ability to lift myself out of poverty. I have a great admiration for the kind of person who comes from less than nothing and manages to fulfill their dreams – like my beautiful wife Marie. 

She was born in the outer rim, to a large, impoverished family. Jericho, the name of her planet – I think they got one or two supply runs a month. How she was able to get off world and follow her dreams, I’ll never truly understand. I know the story, but the fearlessness and drive behind it, I cannot wrap my head around. I admire her for it, and thank her – our children wouldn’t exist if she wasn’t so bold.

She changed me from the moment we met, in my favorite dive-bar on Voss Station. Not because of anything she did, but who she was. The simple fact that someone like her was alive, and in proximity to me (and interested in me!), made me want to be the best version of myself. To impress her? Maybe. More than that, to be worthy of her. To be someone she deserved, though she would argue this point. 

Until I met her – my life was relatively uneventful. The distance between my high points and low points was only a few degrees. Sure, I was a pilot. Living out a minor thread in the tapestry of my dreams. I was happy. I was safe. My trials, tribulations, and triumphs didn’t amount to much – It only required a bit of zooming out to see that my peaks and valleys were nothing more than a straight line.

 I didn’t have it easy per se, but I certainly didn’t have it hard. I just kind of had it, and went along with it – that was life for me. No tragic loss to drive me, no childhood vendetta, no greatness to aspire to; just make it through the day. Make it through the week. Make it to the weekend. Someday I’ll get out there. Someday I’ll live my dreams. Rest. Repeat.

As I mentioned earlier, much later, we came into some money – the method and means by which it came, I will detail another time. We went out on a limb and financed a starship. Irresponsible, considering the children? Maybe. In hindsight, after everything that has happened: absolutely. We should have put it all into savings instead. It’s funny; you grow comfortable when you feel safe. When you’re safe, safety isn’t something you think about, or even recognize. 

If you do think about it, it’s in the capacity that, that safety is a burden. You think about freeing yourself from that safety, tossing it off your shoulders like a dry towel as you dive into a warm pool, submersing yourself in freedom. But that pool is cold, cold as ice. It isn’t until that safety is good and gone, until you find yourself in an extremely unsafe situation, that you can recognize and appreciate that comfort for the warmth it was. Of course, we have the abominable ability to adapt to our circumstances, and before long, the shock of that ice cold pool itself becomes comfortable. It might even feel safe. This, in hindsight, is perhaps the most terrifying.

Nevertheless, my courage came late in life and we took the leap. Before the children, we would fantasize often about traveling the stars together, some day. Marie, after all, came to Voss Station on an adventure of her own. She, like me, fantasized about all that she would see, all the places she would go – until she met me. After the children, we would fantasize about traveling the stars with them. Our family, our crew, crossing the great expanse of nothing between stars and worlds, charting unexplored moons, discovering ancient ruins, visiting the Galactic Wonders. In the blink of an eye, that fantasy became our reality, now that we had a starship of our own. Our future. Boy, was it bright.

The ship wasn’t new but it wasn’t old either. It had the space for a family of five, and though the operations would be stretched thin with only two adults, the kids would eventually be able to fill the minor gaps. A twenty-year-old Mule-Class starship we could call our home. Manufactured by Xian Industries and sold as the Freelance Courier Pro XII, our new mobile apartment had a small cargo hold that I would quickly convert to living quarters for the kids. The cockpit, which was situated at the nose, had two pilot seats, two bunks, and an engineering console near the door; this would be Mom and Dad’s room. 

Just behind the cockpit, moving to the rear of the ship and separated by a door, was the half-galley half-bathroom section of the ship. We just called it “the kitchen”. The Freelance Courier Pro was designed to be a long range vessel with atmospheric capability and hauling ability. If you were running urgent supplies from planet to planet, this was one of your best options. As such, it was long, but relatively narrow. The galley had a food fabricator, plenty of storage, and an additional bunk. The bathroom facilities were tight and not terribly private, but we were a family and would make due. 

The docking airlock also had it’s home here, and there was a small crawlspace in the belly of the ship, accessible through a floor panel, which was host to the fusion drive, AGS,and shield systems. Just behind the kitchen, through another door, and filling out the rear of the ship, was the aforementioned cargo hold. Outfitted with three bunks, a dining area, a ship systems console, mechanic station, the rear cargo airlock, and an entertainment center – this section would be where the majority of time was spent as a family, and would be referred to as the “family room” most of the time, although I still find myself calling it the cargo hold from time to time.

The exterior of the ship featured short, aerodynamic wings for atmospheric flight, as well as two medium-sized 360-degree Vertical Take-off and Landing (VTOL) thrusters on the outer wings – and they packed a punch. The Faster-Than-Light (FTL) drive was mounted on the belly (which would cap out at twenty five or so lightyears per jump), as were the four retractable landing legs. It came equipped with shields and countermeasures (missile defense) – though no weapons. Liberty Republic didn’t allow for weapons on this class of vessel, or any non-security vessels, period. I suppose I could have registered it as security, through the corp. I really should have. All in all, though, it was our fantasy come to life. It would most definitely be more fun to fly than the orbital shuttles, especially in atmosphere. 

Our life as interstellar adventurers was just beginning. Our starship, that we would name “Fable”, officially registered as “FCP12A FABLE-DANNER-6”, was straight out of my own childhood dreams. It was modern, more-than-functional (not quite luxurious, though I would do my best to make it that with my limited fabrication abilities), and comfortable. It had the space for us to live our lives, together, as we traveled from star to star, world to world. 

Exploring.

Adventuring.

Running. 

Hiding.

Fighting – for our lives.