(update 2: I've changed the name of the story to "The Keystone"; "Cordelia" is now "Kate" and "Bill" is now "Archie"; Since the first chapters highlight Kate's social ineptitude, I decided to add a prologue showcasing her derring-do so readers aren't wondering what the heck Archie sees in her. As the story took shape I realized I have to turn some of the mores of the remarriage genre on its head for modern readers, because modern blue noses are more apt to preach excessive informality than excessive propriety -- their real point remains the same, which is that whatever you are, you're not good enough. I'm not sure how or whether to work that into the summary.)
Logline
A gruff but heroic space captain always manages to give her gregarious ex-husband the slip, but this time he's coming after her with something she desperately needs: a job.
Summary
Captain Kate MacClaine is decisive, resourceful and self-reliant, but after ten years solo piloting a tiny scout spaceship her people skills are a bit rusty – and they weren't that great to start with. Kate's a loner who treats people like she does the machinery on her ship: with no allowance for feelings.
Next to Kate with her can-do self-sufficiency, her gregarious ex-husband Archie Spencer appears helpless as a baby. He can't restart a damaged spacecraft engine or tune-up a balky ray pistol. What Archie's good at is convincing other people it'd be fun to do those things for him. In a galactic civilization of thousands of billions of souls that's a priceless skill. Archie's military career has rocketed him to the very apex of galactic society, while Kate is preparing to eke out a living on its margins using her service bonus: a surplus scout ship.
Archie's like a giant, genial black hole: if he's interested in you he won't give up until he's drawn you into his orbit, or in Kate's case, crushed her in his never-ending embrace. Archie's tried twice to catch Kate, the second time maneuvering her all the way to altar before she escaped to the farthest reaches of navigable space. So when Archie shows up on the day Kate takes command of her new ship, Kate's sure it means he's back for a third go at her.
Kate has to move quick; if Archie ever catches up with her pretty soon he'll talk her into living with him again. But when she tries to give him the slip she's brought up short by an unpleasant shock: a bureaucratic snafu has stranded her ship in port. There's only one man who can help her, and before she can stop him Archie's moved into her little ship, and he's brought along an even bigger shock for Kate: his new fiancée. She's a social climbing anti-prude who can give him everything the gruff but diffident Kate can't.
The Keystone re-imagines the classic 1930s “comedy of remarriage” movie in a Science Fiction Golden Age setting of slipsticks and spaceships.
Prologue (first 13)
Kate felt a sting on the back of her leg, and an instant later another like it in front. She looked down to see an atavist arrowhead poking out of a rip in the front of her coveralls' thigh. Her first reaction was that it was narrower in cross-section than the typical atavist projectile point. Her second was that if it had nicked the circumferential artery she was in big trouble
As she turned to see where the arrow came from, she thought, “Oh, God, just give me five minutes back on my ship, that's all I ask.” Her thigh didn't hurt that bad yet, it just burned like hell. That would get worse. Everything in this mucky jungle was filthy.
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I've been noodling around for another story to work on, and came up with this. The working title is an allusion to an Oscar Wilde quote: "A true friend stabs you in the front." I've got a few chapters done. I envision it as the screwball romantic comedy/sci-fi movie Kate Hepburn and Cary Grant never made.
(update 1)
Summary
Captain Kate MacLaine is competent, resourceful and self-sufficient, but after ten years solo piloting a tiny scout spaceship her people skills have got a bit rusty – and they weren't so great to start with. She treats people like the systems on her ship: with good intentions, but no concern for feelings.
Next to Kate with her can-do self-sufficiency, Archie Spencer looks helpless as a baby. He can't restart a damaged spacecraft engine, jury-rig an emergency atmosphere scrubber, or tune-up a balky ray pistol. What he can do is make doing things for him interesting and rewarding for other people. In a galactic civilization of thousands of souls, that's a priceless skill. Archie's military career has rocketed him to the very apex of galactic society, whereas Kate is preparing to eke out a living on its margins with her service bonus: a surplus scout ship.
Archie collects people; if he's interested in you he's like a giant, genial black hole: He won't give up until he's drawn you into his orbit. He's tried twice over the years to collect Kate without success.
When Archie shows up the day Kate is to take command of her ship, it can mean only one thing: he's back for a third try. She'll have to move quick to evade his grasp, but before she can ship out Archie has moved into her tiny spaceship, with his motley entourage and insufferable fiancée in tow.
Opening 13
“Hold it,” Captain Kate MacLaine said, stopping the space dock supply clerk before he opened the boarding tube. She tugged a shower cap over her scalp and tucked her ponytail into it.
“Bit paranoid, aren't you?” the clerk said, eying her disposable coveralls.
“It works for me,” she said. “I notice the gauge is showing a slight overpressure in this tube. Anything you aren't telling me?”
The clerk tugged at his collar. “What, ten kilopascals? That's nothing. Gauge probably needs calibration.” He ran his hand through his hair.
She fixed him with a gimlet-eyed glare. “Your *atmosphere* gauges are out of calibration? What are you, some kind of moron?”
(original)
Summary
Captain Cordelia MacLaine is competent, resourceful and self-sufficient, but after ten years solo piloting a tiny scout spaceship her people skills have got a bit rusty – and they weren't that great to start with. She treats people like the systems on her ship, which is to say extremely well, but without any concern for things like feelings.
In contrast to Cordelia's can-do self-sufficiency, Bill Spencer appears helpless as a baby. He can't restart a damaged spacecraft engine,jury-rig an emergency atmosphere scrubber, or tune-up a balky ray pistol. He needs other people for those things. He's not stupid, he's just never had to learn. He's extremely good at making doing things for him seem interesting and rewarding to other people, and in a galactic civilization of thousands of billions of souls that's a priceless skill. Bill's military career has rocketed him to the very apex of galactic society, whereas Cordelia is preparing to eke out a living on the margins with her service bonus: a surplus scout ship.
Bill collects people. If he's interested in you he's like a giant, genial black hole: he won't give up until he's drawn you into his orbit. He's tried twice over the years to collect Cordelia, but without success. When he shows up the day Cordelia takes command of her ship it can mean only one thing: he's back for a third try.
Opening:
“Hold it,” Captain Cordelia MacLaine said, stopping the supply clerk before he opened the docking tube. She tugged a shower cap over her head and tucked her ponytail into it.
“Bit paranoid, aren't you?” the clerk said, eying her disposable coveralls.
“It works for me,” she said. “I see the gauge is showing a slight overpressure in this tube. Anything you aren't telling me?”
The clerk tugged at his collar. “What, ten kilopascals? That's nothing. Gauge probably needs calibration.” He ran his hand through his hair.
She fixed him with a gimlet eye. “Your *atmosphere* gauges are out of calibration? What are you, some kind of moron?”
[This message has been edited by MattLeo (edited August 01, 2011).]
[This message has been edited by MattLeo (edited August 27, 2011).]
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