A Bit Of Work

The beginning of the seventh chapter of the current novel:

Did I say that I hate having to supervise from a distance?

We held mock space battles and boarding exercises with the Guardian as the target ship. In each exercise companies of the Ranger battalion would take turns as boarders and defenders.

My Fourth Incarnation was a bit annoyed at my constant presence on the command deck aboard the Eagle.

“Don’t you have a desk on the ground?” He once asked me with a clearly annoyed voice as we observed a boarding exercise.

“Yes.” I replied to him politely.

“You also have a wife.”

I turned to look at him silently. He spoke again.

“Seriously, I remember what happened to our marriage in the first incarnation.”

“Our marriage?”

Number Four took a very annoyed and lecturer tone of voice in his reply.

“Evelyn Boatman Number One and our one and only Susan.”

“Oh yes, I remember.”

“She went back to Earth and it was our fault.”

And she remained on Earth until the end.

I spoke again.

“Our fault?”

Number Four looked forward and lowered his voice.

“Fine, I understand, the language isn’t set up for multiple incarnations of a person to have a conversation, particularly concerning a private matter. The point is that I remember being overworked while building the escape fleet, I remember the divorce, and I remember the subsequent results. And so should you, and I don’t want to see the whole thing happen again.”

“You aren’t married to Cheryl.”

He turned to speak at me again.

“And the way you are pushing yourself right now neither will you. Seriously Number Three, you need to take a break, put on some music group files and dance with her. She’ll love it.”

I silently stared at him.

“Oh come off it!” He said. “Don’t give me the silent stare treatment!”

I broke off the stare and looked about the command deck. Everyone on deck was putting on the appearance of being hardwired and fully dedicated to their work stations.

Number Four spoke again.

“Look, you can call it a rehearsal for the arrival celebration, the point is that you need a break.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not supervising this entire operation, you are.”

“You also want me off of your ship?”

“Yes.” He replied. “Just trust me, we’ll get it right.”

I had no idea how to respond to the argument. So I took a break. I clearly needed it. And Cheryl and I conceived our first daughter.