Progress, and a bit of a Chapter

The Telzey book is now half-done or a bit more. A major theme will be the Federation’s blind spot, failing to see how technology might be corrupted. We saw that in The lion Game, in which the Portal system seemed very effective, until people found that it could be corrupted so that travelers, notably the heroine, did not port to where they expected. Far more dangerous is the verifier system which, in addition to finding proof of guilt whether it was there or not, could also influence people’s thinking, not to mention giving ‘absolutely reliable’ evidence based on a secret scheme. Way back in The Universe Against Her Telzey realized that there were dangers, but she then seems to have stopped thinking about them, or had more than enough life-threatening adventures without needing to antagonize a major Federation Service.

I am now up to 90, 000 words. I will give you a few.

Author’s Foreward

I am not James Schmitz.  I do not have his ingenious plot solutions.  I am inclined to a more detailed larger world, including some of the problems that Schmitz suggested, including one that Telzey recognized immediately but never solved.  There was also an interesting character mentioned once, and a minor consequence of the novel third-space drive.

I  was, however, very fond of the Hub and Telzey, so for some time I will be able to bring her back to life.  My sales and your reviews will tend to encourage me to continue.  I say ‘some time’ because I am now 78, not 28, so my writing career is unlikely to continue forever. 

I do introduce a new character, Pamela Morgan.  She already appears in one of the original short stories, except her name is not mentioned.  However, her brief appearance there establishes that she is someone who Telzey knows and trusts implicitly.  She has another piece of  backstory, found at the end of this novel as a shorter work.  You may prefer to read it first.

I should thank the Science Fiction Writers of America Estates-Legacy Program and its volunteer, Todd Dashoff,  for putting me in touch with James Schmitz’s current literary heir.  I reached a mutually amicable agreement with the heir, as a result of which you can read this work.

Chapter At Pehanron College

It was a beautiful spring afternoon.   The temperature was warm enough for a barbecue to be eaten outside, with all but a few students wearing short-sleeve shirts and shorts. Telzey Amberdon leaned back against the massive trunk of a katsura tree, its early spring leaves a mix of colors against the clear blue sky.  A gentle breeze ruffled her hair.  Faint smoke rose from the grills as the steaks cooked. Her contribution, prepared in her half of her bungalow duplex, was a large and complex salad that was visibly already being consumed.   The two boys who had been pursuing her for the last semester, unsuccessfully, had clearly found other girls to chase.

“Telzey?”  The voice came from behind her. Her long amber hair and athletic frame were fairly recognizable. Most of her classmates had experimented with novel hair colors, though a fair number of the girls had gone back from checkerboards to the traditional gold blonde.

“Wilmar?” she asked. She did not need telepathy to identify him.  His voice had the deepest pitch of any of the boys in the complex.

Wilmar Rortak walked around the tree, followed by a trio of young women. She told herself that they couldn’t all be chasing him.  Or could they? She could, of course, simply read their minds and find out.  A few years ago, she would have done that. As a mature nineteen-year-old, she left the trio their privacy.

“We’re the organizing committee,” Wilmar said, “on campus for the Social Democratic Center party for the forthcoming election. We reserved the Great Yard for a rally, the Traditional Union Party being the next day and the Traditional Expansion Party having its rally the day after that. With People’s House elections coming up, we’re trying to ensure the best possible turnout, so our fellow students all remember to go and vote. We wanted to be sure you were coming.”

Telzey shook her head.  “Thanks, but I really don’t do politics.” She decided not to emphasize that her sympathies lay with the other two parties, though not by a great deal. The elections were for the planetary government, not for the Federation, but planetary governments did control most things.

“But it’s really important,” Wilmar said, “it’s one of the things you’re supposed to do as a student, be active in politics.”

“Students do many things,” Telzey answered.  “Study, for example.  You may have heard of studying.  Or maybe not.  I spent enough of the term hearing your lamentations about your grades so far.  Except most people here have had their exams, are finishing course papers, and will soon be done with the semester.  They have time for what you’re doing.   I’m prepping for the Combat Litigation course’s Trial by Judicial Combat sequence.  That’s my last requirement before I graduate. It’s three weeks starting the day after tomorrow.”

“Why did you take Trials?” one of the women with Wilmar asked.  “That was stupid. It’s the hardest course in the college!”  Telzey decided that she was happy she couldn’t remember the woman’s name.

“I’m here to work,” Telzey answered.  “The finest steel is made at the highest temperature.”  Telzey reminded herself that the aphorism was detested by the metallurgists.  “And people who do well in the Trial have an incredible vita resulting.”

“You don’t support one of those crackpot parties, do you?” The shortest of the three women with Wilmar asked.

Telzey tried to recognize the woman. Names she could usually bring to mind, but  most of Wilmar’s friends were in his major, some overlap between art and urban design that she could never remember, so she never met them.

“Me? I’m strictly nonpartisan.” She decided it was time to close down this conversation.  “I have to be. My mom — I don’t think you ever met Jessamine, did you, Wilmar? — is the family’s politician.”

“She’s on the city Arts Commission?” Helga was the shortest of the women following Wilmar around. To the best of Telzey’s recollection, Helga was remarkably tactless, not to mention unpleasant.

Wilmar intervened before matters became even more unpleasant.  “Telzey’s mom is a Federation Junior Councilor. She’s on the Hace Committee, Grand Council Ethics.  You can’t get higher than that.  I haven’t met her, but I for sure know who she is. Mentioning know, I know cooking and it smells like the steaks are starting to get ready.” He shepherded his charges in that direction, pausing to favor Telzey with a wink. She returned a warm grin.  He wasn’t a bad guy to be around, if not very interesting as conversationalist, but life kept insisting on getting too interesting to have a boyfriend in tow.