Jennifer Wells - Beyond the Stars - At Galaxy's Edge

‌—‌and very nearly made a disaster of it. The tiny sips of oxygen I subsisted on were taking their toll, and when coupled with the pain in my arm and leaking suit, I was now less running and more stumbling forward from sheer inertia.

I tried to drop the slab while moving, slipped and kicked it toward the edge. I lunged for it in panic, overestimated the distance, and fell atop it. Please don’t detonate. Please don’t detonate.

One thing was certain: my weight had succeeded in sticking it to the metal. I crawled to my feet and rested my hands on my thighs. Dizziness‌—‌the real kind‌—‌blurred the periphery of my vision.

“Why am I doing this?”

The stars had no answer for me, but it was okay. I had my own answer. I would run and I would fly and I would die, but I would not be a slave. Not to the Idoni integral and its sadistic Primor. Not to the Anaden Directorate. Not to my anarch superiors. I wasn’t here because they’d ordered me here; I was here to be free.

I ran.

Possibly crookedly.

The journey passed in a blur, and suddenly the final location rushed up on me.

I placed the slab, knowing it had none but the slimmest protective layer, and flung myself off the ring into space.

Time’s up.

I twisted around to face the Gateway with a second to spare. A second to witness the staccato of explosions shine more brilliantly than the galactic core as my body atomized to nothingness, until not even stardust remained.

Milky Way, Sector 59F

Anarch Post Alpha

On the other side of the galaxy, deep in a sector the Directorate had long ago abandoned, I awoke with a gasp.

Sterile smooth walls and cushioned linens welcomed my transition. A fading echo of the flash of agony receded to a memory as I breathed in the oxygen-rich air of the restoration capsule.

My hand went to my shoulder, but of course the wound was gone. My skin felt cool, still moist from the gelatinous fluid it had resided in until needed.

Outside the capsule a Curative unit checked my vitals. A chime signaled all systems were nominal, and the protective cover slid away as the virtual image of my handler materialized.

“Welcome back, Eren. Congratulations on a successful mission. See to your personals, then report in twenty minutes for a briefing on your next assignment. Nos libertatem somnia .”

Re/Genesis features a fantastical, far-future world very different from our own. Where did the story come from, and how does it relate to your other works?

This is the first time I’ve ventured into far-future territory in my writing, but it won’t be the last. When I wrote the story, I was just starting work on the final trilogy in my Aurora Rhapsody series, Aurora Resonant , which is going to take place almost entirely in the world of Re/Genesis . The main characters in Aurora Rhapsody have known for several books now that another universe‌—‌the ‘true’ universe, as it were‌—‌exists alongside our own, but Re/Genesis is the first real look anyone’s gotten at it.

This story started out as a sort of test run, a chance for me to dip my toe into the waters of the worldbuilding I was going to have to do for the next trilogy. But I quickly fell in love with the character of Eren and completely embraced the story, setting and all. It got me legitimately excited to dive into writing Aurora Resonant .

Who are your favorite fictional heroes and villains?

I’m an avid video gamer (though I have little time to play since I began writing full time), so I’d have to say my favorite fictional hero is Commander Shepard from the Mass Effect video game trilogy. Favorite villain? Probably the motiles from Peter F. Hamilton’s Pandora Star/Judas Unchained space opera novels. He wrote a number of chapters from their perspective, and their way of thinking, their worldview, their entire essence was so foreign and, well, alien. It was fascinating.

Where did your love of SF begin, and what authors have inspired you?

I’ve been reading science fiction since I was a kid. In the old days, I loved Isaac Asimov for the sweeping space exploration and fantastical future, and Frank Herbert for the deep world- and culture-building. Later, Catherine Asaro for daring to mix serious, hard science fiction with romance and Lois McMaster Bujold for daring to have fun with science fiction. William Gibson for painting masterful imagery with mere words and Peter F. Hamilton for telling vast, grand stories.

Any Works in Progress?

Always. Aurora Renegades: The Complete Collection , will be released in the fall; it will include all three Aurora Renegades novels and the Apogee short story, plus some bonus content. I’m now deep into writing Relativity: Aurora Resonant Book One . No release date yet, but I’m targeting December 2016. If anyone wants to know more about Aurora Rhapsody , they can visit gsjennsen.com, or go directly to gsjennsen.com/aurora-rhapsody.

How can fans find you or follow you?

I love hearing from my readers. Seriously. They can email me at gs@gsjennsen.com; I’m active on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram, but I’m also on all the other social media networks (I’m easy to find‌—‌just try “GS Jennsen”). If someone wants to guarantee they’ll find out about new releases, though, the best way is to subscribe to my mailing list.

November 5th, 2067

Sweetie, before I answer your question, just keep in mind who the hell I am. I’m the second goddamned human to set foot on Mars. THE SECOND. And more people are moving there every day. Here, I’m nothing. Some nameless retiree in some nameless godforsaken suburb of Dallas. There, I’d be a goddamned prophet or something. Like Adam. Or, uh, Columbus, except less, you know, genocidal.

FRANK BICKHAM, SECOND human to set foot on Mars, punched the ‘send’ key a little too aggressively, accidentally hitting delete instead.

“Aw... sh‌—‌” he began, before looking over his shoulder to see if the great-grandkids could hear. Sure enough, the littlest was peering up at him with her wide six-year-old eyes. “‌—‌amwow,” he finished.

“Don’t you mean shit?”

He spun around to face her. “Samantha! Don’t say that! Who the hell taught you to say that?”

“Grumpy,” she said, laughing, pointing at him.

Frank sighed. “Grumpy,” he repeated. The computer behind him chimed. Another message from his granddaughter, probably wondering why he hadn’t responded yet. When the hell was she going to pick up these rugrats, anyway? He tousled Samantha’s hair playfully.

She grimaced, and in a solemn six-year-old voice said, “Stop, Grumpy. I’m having a bad hair day.”

What six-year-old has a bad hair day? “Go,” he said, pointing to the other room. “Go be a kid.”

Samantha ran off, giggling, and Frank strained to read the new message before cursing again and ramming his reading glasses onto his nose.

So are you going to answer the question, Grumpy? Or just start ignoring me again?

He punched out the previous message he’d erased as best he could remember and fired it off, before switching to his other message feed from the pencil pushers over at Interplanetary Reserve Inc. Nothing new yet. Dammit.