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The Protagonist Speaks

Interviews with the characters of your favourite books

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Penric & Desdemona (of their eponymous series, by Lois McMaster Bujold)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a learned temple divine and sorcerer — and the chaos demon he possesses. They are here to tell us about their complex relationship, as Penric navigates a world — and an occupation — he wasn’t prepared for, and Desdemona tries to keep him alive.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

Penric: I was born seventh child of my family at Jurald Court, in the valley of the Greenwell in the Cantons.  My father was the baron there.  Someone once offended me by calling my home a fortified farmhouse, but, really… he wasn’t wrong.  Looking back, it was a rather idyllic childhood, running all over the mountains, learning to ride and hunt with a bow or traplines, haying in the summer—everyone turned out for that, from the lord on down.  Butchering livestock in the fall, which proved oddly useful later when I came to teach human anatomy to the Mother goddess’s medical students in Martensbridge. And, ah, to certain tasks in support of Des.  Not many books at Jurald Court, though.

Des, as a chaos demon of the Bastard god, how would you even answer that question?  I mean… can you remember being born as an elemental?  Is it even being born?

Desdemona: [the sense of a snort—if you can call it that in a bodiless demon]:  Of course I don’t remember emerging from the Bastard’s hell.  It’s a place of chaos.  Neither memory nor any other kind of form can exist there in the roiling white boil.  I suppose my earliest memory is of being in—or being, hardly a difference at that stage—the wild mare in the peninsular mountains of Cedonia.  Her death, now, that I remember, and jumping to the lioness that killed and ate her.  Then the first human, brave Sugane the village woman, who speared the lioness and gave me my first human language to think in.  And a fear of heights.  Then nine more women after her.  All their childhoods are but borrowed memories.  Their deaths, though… in two centuries, I had twelve deaths, and no births.  Think on that, my sweet holy necromancer.

Pen: Oh, I do.  Or you do.  It’s getting harder to tell our thoughts apart, anymore.

Des: Welcome to my world.

What did you first think when you two met?

Pen:  I was bewildered.  Nineteen years old, riding to what I thought was going to be my betrothal.  I mean, I didn’t realize this dying old woman on the roadside I’d stopped to try to help was a Temple sorceress.  I’d never even met a sorcerer before.

Des:  We thought you were the best human in range to jump to—though there wasn’t much choice in the moment.  The least rigid mind, which mattered… well, you know how much it matters now.  Incandescent wits, trapped under the stone of your benighted rural life.  Also [the sense of a slight, embarrassed cough] by far the prettiest.

Pen: [Ignores this.  Though somewhat flattered by the “incandescent wits” bit.]

What do you do now?

Pen: As a youth, I certainly never expected to become a learned Temple divine, seminary trained.  Five times over, counting my own training after I contracted Des, and that of four Temple sorceresses who had her before me.  And three times trained for a physician, mine and two learned women likewise, though that… did not go well.

Des: [snorts, but charitably makes no comment.  Some wounds do not bear touching.]

Pen: The five new languages Des gifted me with from her prior humans have allowed me much comfortable work as a translator.  Beyond that, whatever tasks my Temple superiors or my secular authorities request.  Or my god, Fifth and White.  As a sworn servant to the god of mischance, I never know what distressed persons or problems may next be given into my hands.  “No Hands But Ours”, as the motto of my Order says.   

Des:  Me, I try to keep this fool alive.  He—and the Temple and the secular lords and most of all the god—don’t make it easy.

Continue reading “Penric & Desdemona (of their eponymous series, by Lois McMaster Bujold)” →
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Gabriel Martiniere (of The Martiniere Legacy, by Joyce Reynolds-Ward)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a man from the near future, talking about biotechnology and the multiverse.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

Before my family died in a plane crash when I was twelve, I lived in Malibu, on the beach. We also spent a lot of time in Paris, France, at one of the major Family holdings, the Hôtel Martiniere, in the 1st arrondissement. When I was ten, I was sent to Northview Military Academy in Utah, and spent school years there. After my family died, I still spent part of my time away from school in Los Angeles, only in the house of the man I thought was my uncle but was really my biofather, Philip Martiniere. Philip’s house was in Beverly Hills and a very different setting from my family’s house. Otherwise, I was in Paris with my uncle Gerard, learning more about the Martiniere Group’s financial operations.

As a child I spent a lot of time outdoors. My parents would take my sister, my cousins, and I out to Anacapa Island where we would spend the day swimming and snorkeling. I played on the beach. When I was very young, I wanted to become a cliff diver.

In Paris, I prowled the city with my cousins. Doing what kids do, but we also spent a lot of time visiting museums and attending cultural activities.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Growing up Martiniere had a lot of expectations, especially since I was born into the ranks of the high-level heirs and was being nurtured and cultivated for a leadership role in the family-held conglomerate, the Martiniere Group. I didn’t have any one favorite toy because I spent a lot of time playing with my cousins, whether in Paris or Los Angeles. And memories…ah, best not to go there. My teen years were nightmarish. One of my biggest regrets was that I was horrible to my little sister Louisa and my mother Angelica the last time I saw them alive.

I did have a collection of Marvel action figures and assorted drone and robot models. Who was my favorite Marvel character? Tony Stark, of course. In many ways, I’ve been emulating him, only through development of agricultural technology.

What do you do now?

I am currently the leader of the Martiniere Family and the Martiniere Group, known as The Martiniere. Essentially, that makes me the CEO of the Martiniere Group and, well…there are private Family structures where I serve in much the same role as I do within the Group. When I can, I work on agricultural nanobiobots with my beloved Ruby. My focus is more on microbial payloads, but Ruby and I do a lot of research together on Ruby’s Double R Ranch in Northeastern Oregon.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

I’ve discovered that my choices as an adult have gone very differently in other universes—in one universe, my family did not die in a plane crash when I was twelve and I learned that Philip was my father when I was sixteen. In every other universe I know about, that didn’t happen. However, I am engaged in a war against digital thought clones in nearly every universe, along with my brilliant, bold, beautiful wife Ruby. Most points of divergence happen as a result of when I tell Ruby who I really am, except for that one universe I mentioned.

Continue reading “Gabriel Martiniere (of The Martiniere Legacy, by Joyce Reynolds-Ward)” →
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Emperor Tiriyanin (of Tiriyanin’s Riddles, by Izabela Raittila)

Dear readers, tonight with us is Emperor Tiriyanin from the Gragiyan Empire, the ruler of an ancient land where humans live among gods, elves and other mythical beings. He’s here to tell us about his duties and the new woman in his life, his new mistress Ducissa Skaraila.

I’ve heard that Your Highness was born after the war with the northern kingdom of Misoa? Tell us a little was it like growing up at the imperial palace at that time?

Yes, I was born in the sixth year of my father’s reign, a year after he and King Arkon of Misoa signed the peace treaty, putting an end to a bloody war. Arkon married my aunt Princess Lorli as part of the peace agreement, and their union meant the start of friendship between our nations. I grew up at the palace in the capital city of Ifirium, in the province of Gragiya, the heartland of our empire. Though our nation was at peace, five years of fighting had wrecked our economy. Several of our major cities had sustained severe damage, some places were reduced to ruins. My father spent the rest of his reign establishing new trade deals with his brother-in-law and planning the reconstruction projects in each province with the High Council, with hopes of restoring our empire to its former glory.

Many of these projects consumed a lot of his time and I didn’t see much of him during the first few years of my life. I spent my early years at the imperial palace in Ifirium, where he entrusted a man named Ferision to be my advisor and mentor. His role was to oversee my education and training while my father focused on his duties. When not busy with my studies, sports and combat training, I would sit by my father’s side at official gatherings, listening to him address his court.

This was his way of preparing me for my role as Ifrey Prisis, a term for prince and heir to the throne in our language. I had a happy childhood with servants tending to my every need, a great mentor, a loving grandmother and parents. As I got older, my father would take me with him on tours across various parts of our continent. In addition to Gragiya, there are three provinces including the military region of Arhia, the mountains of Lavinium, which is only partially inhabited by our people. The tallest peaks near the volcano are home to the wild beasts and two Enai (elven) clans, the mountain and fire Enai, immortal servants of Lord Fiehri, the god of fire and volcanoes and his queen, the earth goddess Lady Lavinia. Beyond it lies the sparsely populated desert of Niralis, the only province I have yet to visit.

These trips made me realize just how vast our world is and the great responsibility that now rests on my shoulders as its leader.

Did Your Highness have any cherished memories as a child?

One of my favorite memories is listening to my father telling stories about his epic battles and adventures during the war with Misoa. I’m particularly fond of the one where he ended up stranded in the desolate desert province of Niralis. That’s where he met his desert rose, my mother Alya, a native Niralisian. Some aspects of Niralisian culture are still part of our daily life such as the tradition of drinking mint tea and eating latti after a meal.

What exactly is latti?

Latti is my favorite dessert, a pastry made of sesame, honey and cinnamon.

That sounds delicious.

Yes it is, though it’s not something you can have in large quantities.

Good to know. Moving on, tell us more about how Your Highness feels about your role as Emperor of the Gragiyan Empire? What’s the best thing about it?

Our fate lies in the hands of the gods. When Lord Makar, the god of death sent his ghastly shadow servants, the Morkrai for my father, I was proclaimed Ifresir (emperor in our tongue) and I swore to continue his legacy. Unlike my father, who spent the first part of his reign fighting a brutal war, thanks to his efforts I inherited the throne at a time of peace. Rebuilding our empire after the war was his life’s work. One of the best things about being Ifresir is that I have the opportunity to fulfill his dream and transform our nation into something magnificent. This is only my first year as Emperor and there’s a lot of work to be done. I have a team of architects ready to make my vision a reality and the High Council supports my ideas for the reforms.

Continue reading “Emperor Tiriyanin (of Tiriyanin’s Riddles, by Izabela Raittila)” →
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Kim Taylor (of Forbidden Road, by Reut Barak)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a modern witch who in her final year of college was sent to the distant past against her will. She is here to speak about love and betrayal, about living in a world of dangerous magic, dragons, and violent knights. And a bit about college romance and spaghetti.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

It was in Reading, England—it will only be build centuries from now. I have only vague memories from the future. It’s much more crowded than here, in Kardoel. There’s a lot of rush, and people drive vehicles that don’t have horses. I’m not exactly sure how that works. You get in and it makes a lot of noise, you use a wheel to turn it. There’s a town I remember-much bigger than the ones here. They call it Oxford. Seth is there too. I remember him, but everything around him is blurry. He’s different than now. A lot less serious. He’s trying to tell me something about my comp…computer. I have no idea what that is.

After the time travel, I woke up here, in Morgan’s fairy tribe. Have you ever visited a fairy tribe? You haven’t, then you don’t know about the food! I guess since they’re all thousands of years old, they got a lot of practice. The simple things were the most impressive. Like their corn and berries bread. Morgan’s tribe would conjure a variation of the recipe that had bilberries. And serve it with a drink that combined flower extracts. We’d have it at breakfast, with the dawn. Right by the lake, under the mossy beech trees. We’d also have dinner there, and I’d listen to the fairies play. Except when there were drumming sessions. It was…let’s just say I had a lot of excuses ready to use in order to avoid it, and wax for my ears if I failed.

And you miss the tribe?

Not any more. They lied to me, about who I really am.

Is that why are you here in Kardoel?

Partly. I’m actually looking for someone. Perhaps you’ve met him? A mage named Merlin.

Why do you need to meet Merlin?

That’s for his ears alone. I have a message that I must deliver personally. Many lives depend on it. And it can’t fall into the wrong hands. Listen, you cannot under any circumstance tell anyone my real name, or Seth’s. We are Adelis and Caradoc now. You found out the truth—take it to your grave. I can’t imagine what will happen to us if we get discovered.

Continue reading “Kim Taylor (of Forbidden Road, by Reut Barak)” →
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Pawlina Katczynski, aka “Pawly” (of Werecats Emergent, by Mark Engels )

Dear readers, tonight with us is a young woman, scion of an ancient clan of werecats. She is here to tell us about the challenges of discovering your family’s dark secrets and battling lethal urges, while trying to finish high-school.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

My brother Tommy and I lived in Norfolk, Virginia most of our time growing up. Our dad was a Navy SEAL, so we were your garden-variety Navy brats. Around major holidays while Dad was off on deployment, our mom would take us on a bus to D.C. and then a train to Chicago where our folks were both from. There we’d spend time together with our grandparents and aunts and uncles. At the time our extended family all lived together in the same building, so it was like a big family reunion whenever we’d show up. We’d been on ice skates from nearly the time we could walk, so we’d bring our hockey gear along and play pick-up games with the kids from a Chicago neighborhood league our aunt and uncle coached. The tricks we learned there made us high school hockey superstars back in Norfolk!

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Our great grandfather, a retired Coast Guard commandant, had bought a decommissioned light keeper’s cottage situated on a small, remote wooded island in Lake Michigan near Wisconsin’s Door Peninsula. He fixed it up for his family to use a summer cabin, and my brother and I continued that tradition for much of our summers. With our dad gone so much, Tommy and I spent far more time at the cabin every summer than we did in either Chicago or Norfolk. We’d wander around all day, every day, building forts and playing hide n’ seek and combing the beaches looking out for treasure washed up from centuries of shipwrecks.

What do you do now?

Tommy and I are both trying to finish out our senior year at a new high school. It’s been, well, a challenge…

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Let’s just say neither of us had any idea just what it meant to be Growing Up Werecat. Not until I first morphed last Halloween, the night before our big game at the invitationals last fall in Green Bay.

Continue reading “Pawlina Katczynski, aka “Pawly” (of Werecats Emergent, by Mark Engels )” →
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Reverend Evan Wycliff (of his eponymous mystery series, by Gerald Everett Jones)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a reverend with an astrophysics background, who keeps running into situations that require a sceptic’s investigative skills.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I spent my boyhood in farm country—Appleton City, Missouri. It’s flat land in the heart of the state, north of the hills and the sinuous-shaped bodies of water known as the Twin Dragons – Truman Lake and Lake of the Ozarks. These are Bible-believing folk. When I was young, the area was sleepy, mostly family farms. In the years since, corporate interests have bought up huge tracts of land, and farming on a small scale doesn’t pay. Employment is better in the south, where the lake supports jobs serving the tourist industry. Branson is Missouri’s version of Nashville.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

My fondest memory of my childhood is my friendship with Bob Taggart, a boy of my own age. We hunted and fished together. Our faithful companion was his dog Brownie, who was in fact a succession of mixed-breed mutts to which he gave the same name. He pranked me a lot, thinking himself clever. One time, he took me into the basement of his father’s pharmacy and dared me to open a jar of what looked like disgusting medical samples and take a bite. I did, then he admitted it was fruit preserves. It was Bob’s dead body I found in the first novel, Preacher Finds a Corpse.

What do you do now?

In my teens, I had intended to enter the ministry. I studied at Harvard Divinity, then dropped out when I learned too much about Christian church history. I then undertook astrophysics at MIT. No answers there, either. I returned to the farm and got part-time work as a credit investigator for the local auto dealership and also as an occasional guest preacher. I later became pastor of the Baptist church, and because I have a curious mind and investigative skills, people come to me with problems no one else has any interest in solving. Because I was also trained as a skeptical scientist, some people think I’m an agnostic.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

The fourth novel in the Preacher Evan Wycliff series is Preacher Stalls the Second Coming, released on March 5, 2024. A crazed scientist knocked on my door with a bizarre warning – the Deep State may be planning to fake the Second Coming of Christ with advanced virtual-reality technology. Meanwhile, a faith-healing evangelist was luring poor and homeless people to a religious retreat with promises of ample food, then exhorting them to prepare for the End Times by starving themselves to death. I couldn’t ignore these unbelievable stories when a young woman from my church disappeared inside the cult leader’s farm.

Continue reading “Reverend Evan Wycliff (of his eponymous mystery series, by Gerald Everett Jones)” →
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Gnochi Gleeman (of Gleeman’s Tales, by Matthew Travagline)

Dear readers, tonight we are sitting down in the darkest corner of a menagerie’s main tent. The man we’re speaking with is supposedly considered a world-class storyteller. His name is Gnochi Gleeman. We’re also accompanied by his young apprentice, a scribe named Boli, who is recording Gnochi’s answers, even though we record the interview. The boy is working off faint candlelight, and writes with sharp, neat scratches of his pen on the paper. Gnochi has made me promise to publish this interview a year and a day after we speak, so here we are.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I grew up in a small farmhouse about a half-day’s ride from [city name redacted] along the coast. I obviously can’t disclose too much more than that in order to protect the location of my family’s collection of old-world tomes and books. But it was a hardy, quiet upbringing. My folks didn’t get out to town too much beyond buying supplies, which means I didn’t see much of life outside our homestead until I had the first whiskers on my face.

Not that I’m complaining. There’s a very legitimate need for secrecy in our line of work. Constantly drilling and preparing, in case the luddites got wind of our stache, or the king’s men came knocking.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Unfortunately, we did not have the luxury of recreation, even as children. I will say though, before you write my parents off completely as heartless monsters, that we did have a lifetime’s worth of books to keep us entertained. I have spent many moons of my life lost among the stacks, gently peeling back the covers on a book that has remained unopened, it’s story untold for thousands of years. The stories I can tell you…

What do you do now?

I can’t quite put “protector of forgotten knowledge” on my tax forms, so I am a bard by trade. An itinerant one. Which means during the warm seasons, it’s me and my horse shambling between any tavern or inn with a little warmth to spare, telling the stories of the past to people who can’t even fathom… Or at least, I was.

I’m actually trying (and failing) to be a retired bard. I’ve lived the better part of my life on the road, huddled up under tarps that barely keep the chill of rain out.

So… what brought you out of retirement?

My dear sister and niece were kidnapped. Unfortunately, I am being extorted by the bastards who took them, forced into a Herculean labor of near impossibility. But, what can I do? If I don’t comply, there’s no hope I’ll see my family again. And, before you ask, I cannot disclose what I need to do. If the wrong person were to see this interview, it could put my whole mission in jeopardy. Hell, even mentioning it to you may have sealed their fates. But, somehow, I doubt the people who kidnap others are cultured enough to be reading personality interviews. And, in a year, this will have wound its course.

Continue reading “Gnochi Gleeman (of Gleeman’s Tales, by Matthew Travagline)” →
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Silmavalien and Noren (of Return of the Dragonriders trilogy, by Raina Nightingale)

Dear readers, tonight with us are two dragon riders from a world where dragons are considered demons and Dragonriders are hunted and killed as witches.

I’ve heard the two of you are from one of the mountain villages. Can you tell us what it was like to grow up there? How are the people different in the mountains?

Noren opens his mouth, but then Silmavalien leans forward, and he gestures for her to start.

“I don’t know a lot about how the people are different,” she explains. “I really haven’t met a lot of people down here. But I can tell you a bit about how I grew up.”

She reaches out and takes Noren’s hand, and he smiles. She goes on. “The mountains are beautiful! I love them so much better than the plains! The trees, and the heights rising above you, and the valleys!

“As for growing up … My life was a lot like everyone else’s in Treas. My father was a good hunter, and when he taught my older brother, I often watched when I could. Noren was learning the same skills from his father, and he noticed and started going out of his way to help me and teach me how to do all the things he was learning. We spent a lot of time talking, and he told him all about everything. His frustrations, and his triumphs, and his first deer.” She smiles. “Everyone knew what was going on, of course, but most people didn’t take much notice. I’m not the only woman to hunt, but there aren’t that many of us. So people mostly ignored it.”

Noren grips her hand a little tighter. Perhaps he can tell she really has no idea where the plains-city people are coming from, and is just going on about her life. She turns to look at him.

“Sil, love,” he says, “I think this kind young man has no idea what you are talking about.”

She laughs a little nervously. “You go on, then, since you know more than I do.”

She leans into Noren, as he takes up the thread. “You asked how people are different in the mountains,” he begins. “In case you were wondering, dragons are just as maligned there as here in the plains and the cities. The bards often came through with their stories about them, the same ones you know I’m sure, and we didn’t have any stories of good dragons, either.

“Apart from that, I’m not sure where to begin either. I can only tell you that when I came down here, it was very confusing, and it took a while for me to stop doing things that made other people uncomfortable or suspicious that I had bad intentions. It was a very different environment in Treas, where everyone knows everyone else at least a little, than it is in the cities, where you’re living so close to so many people you don’t know at all, or even the towns down here, where travelers come through all the time. There, the only travelers we knew were bards, apart from every now and then, when we would host another village or two for a big festival.

“So there’s a kind of trust between us you don’t have in the cities. It’s not perfect, Silmavalien didn’t get to telling you, but her brother married a woman who was … well, the sort of person who’d lead the ‘Dragonriders are witches, burn them!’ mentality, and she was a nuisance to be around. But people’s relationships are clearer and we’re not worried about each other doing things that I don’t know how to mention.

“At first I really didn’t appreciate the different environment down here, and even now after spending a number of years working as low-priority courier, I still don’t. I just know better what to avoid, and being a courier helped. There were ways it narrowed and defined my interactions and made that easier. So I hope that’s … kind of what you were asking.”

Yes, it is. It was good to hear what both of you shared, and I think this is a question you might like, Silmavalien. What did you enjoy about your life growing up?

Silmavalien looks up and smiles. “Apart from Noren? We’ve always done so much together, since I was old enough to run and talk. Umm … probably what I miss most is the festival nights, especially the singing.”

Her voice takes on a cautious, wistful edge. “Now you mention it, I used to look forward to the bards. I loved the stories. But now … now that I know they’re all horrible lies, it’s hard to remember that well.”

She pauses, and the smile comes back. “But festival nights! I liked listening to the songs, and I liked to sing, sometimes together with other people, but I used to sing for everyone, sometimes our old songs that we keep, that I’d learned from hearing others sing, but I’d often sing alone, maybe a new song or one I made, or one of the old songs that’s for just one woman to sing. I loved all of it, and now, well, I wouldn’t give anything for the dragons, and Songeth often sings with me or for me, and I sing for them, too. So it might be even better, but it isn’t the same.”

Continue reading “Silmavalien and Noren (of Return of the Dragonriders trilogy, by Raina Nightingale)” →
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Katrina (Cat) Mancini (of Life and Death on Mars, by Edward M. Lerner)

Dear readers, tonight with us is an astronaut, speaking about the second cold war in the near future and the race to Mars between the US, China, and assorted billionaires.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I was an Army brat, so you name it. A half dozen places in the US. All across Europe. Once Japan and twice Australia. I can mispronounce words and mangle syntax in five languages. Apparently I speak French and German like an Alsatian, which is an insult from both sides. Ask me if I care.

Anyway, the first few moves taught me not to get too attached to places – or to people. Don’t take that to mean I’m some kind of loner, because I also learned to make friends quickly. Having friends around the world? That’s seriously cool.

As odd as the lifestyle seems to most folks, it’s what I knew. Straight out of high school, I enlisted. Already then I’d had my eye on going to space, and any of the services would pay for an engineering degree. Becoming a pilot was the logical first step and the Air Force, by far, has the most pilots of all the service branches. You don’t want to know how Dad took it when I joined the Air Force. He coped better with the move to NASA.

What do you do now?

Commander of NASA’s international Ares mission to Mars. Pilot of Meriwether Lewis, one of the mission’s pair of spacecraft. The second ship, of course, is the William Clark.

Anyway, that’s what I did until … well, best I not say.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Only insane people would think to throw together a crewed mission to Mars in less than two years. Those, unfortunately, are the people I work for. After President Wu announced a mission to Mars, no way was our president willing to let China get there first.

Speaking of lunatics, well, then there’s my unofficial overseer. More than anyone, Xander Hopkins was the architect of our mad dash. It serves Xander right that the prez plunked him into my crew to be her eyes and ears. Even if – eventually – he became a good friend.

What did you first think when you got to Mars?

Technically speaking, I didn’t. I got us safely to its moon Phobos. From Phobos, we dispatched an armada of robots to explore the world below. Because to actually set boot on Mars would have massively compounded the challenges – challenges which the other guys discovered all too soon.

At way less than one light-second’s round-trip comm lag with the surface we had real-time control of all those bots. We could, and did, cover lots of ground. Drilled lots of exploratory holes. Flew everything interesting up to our Phobos base for closer examination.

You know what? Forget the party line that from Phobos we were responsibly searching for Martian life. That we posed no risk of contaminating it – if it was even there – with earthly microbes. I wish to God we could’ve flown those last few thousand miles. Instead, we had Mars ever overhead. Like a mottled red dinner plate hanging in the sky. Looming. Taunting.

What was the scariest thing in your adventures?

Setting aside That Which Cannot be Revealed Without Spoilers, there’s still much to choose from. I’ll go with the landing on Phobos because landing is such misnomer. Phobos is basically a potato-shaped rock. Its longest axis is scarcely 16 miles. A rock that small has no gravity to speak of. You don’t actually land there. You very carefully dock with it – only there’s no docking mechanism to engage.

What you do is, you harpoon the damned potato, then slowly reel yourself to the surface. No one knew for certain till we arrived that’d this could even work. Would harpoons bounce off? Would their impacts spatter us with rocky debris? What if any of our tether reels froze at the last moment? What if tethers tangled? Coming down askew, not squarely on our landing feet, could’ve bashed in something critical and stranded us.

Surrendering control to a damned computer and glorified garden-hose reels is no pilot’s notion of a good idea. Scary as hell, in fact. Not that, in front of crew, I ever said any of that. But, okay, in the end, the landing worked as planned. We did get down in one piece.

What was the worst thing about living on a spaceship?

Had you asked me about any previous mission, I’d have said the crowding. Spaceflight is like a bunch of people living together in a closet. Or maybe I’d have said the smell, for pretty much the same reason. But those previous flights were to Earth orbit, or lunar orbit, or to the Moon itself – in every case, for just a few days.

The flight to Mars took six months! You can’t help but get used to the crowding. It’s that or go psycho. You can’t help but become immune to the stench. Which leaves … the people themselves. You can’t get away from them – or them from you. You can’t not get on one another’s nerves from time to time. Sure, the psychologists had had their say. They’d declared us compatible. As if they had any clue what it’s like.

Aboard Lewis with me were the aforementioned Xander, the mad genius behind our crazy mission plan, and the uptight Canadian flight surgeon, Sonny Ying. We were at times, despite our best efforts, like cats and dogs. Or maybe oil and matches. And utterly dependent on one another.

What is the best thing about it?

As it turns out, Sonny. She and I developed … a thing. Which, I’d hafta guess, became the worst part about the flight for Xander. There’s not a lot of privacy in a closet.

Whom (or what) do you really hate?

Xenophobe paranoid nutcases. They don’t want us to go home! In the name of protecting Earth from some imaginary Martian plague, the so-called Planetary Protection League is already a sort of plague on Earth. Damned Luddites.

Edward M. Lerner worked in high tech and aerospace for thirty years, as everything from engineer to senior vice president, for much of that time writing science fiction as his hobby. He is the author of sixteen SF novels (five of them collaborations with Larry Niven) and dozens of shorter works. His 2015 novel InterstellarNet: Enigma won the inaugural Canopus Award for fiction “honoring excellence in interstellar writing,” while other of his works have been nominated for Locus, Prometheus, and Hugo awards. He also writes popular science, notably including Trope-ing the Light Fantastic: The Science Behind the Fiction.

You can find Cat on the pages of Life and Death on Mars.

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