Future Vistas Vol 1: Future Vistas, #1

By D.M. Pruden

What path will lead you to the future?

What does the future hold for us? Benevolent aliens come to help us, or interstellar conflicts between warring star systems.

The 14 short science fiction stories in this collection explore different paths that our future might take, many of which will test our concept of what it means to be human.

Prepare yourself as you undertake a journey of imagination and inspiration that will challenge how you perceive your own future and open your mind to new possibilities.

Future Vistas Vol 1 is the first published collection of short science fiction works by Canadian science fiction author, D.M.Pruden. 

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• Language: English
• Publisher: D.M. Pruden
• Release date: Mar 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781989341124

D.M. Pruden

D.M.(Doug) Pruden is a professional geophysicist who worked for 35 years in the petroleum industry. For most of his life he has been plagued with stories banging around inside his head that demanded to be let out into the world. He currently spends his time as an empty nester in Calgary, Alberta, Canada with his long suffering wife of 34 years, Colleen. When he isn’t writing science fiction stories, he likes to spend his time playing with his granddaughters and working on improving his golf handicap. He will also do geophysical work when requested.

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Introduction

Science fiction short stories, love or hate them, have been around for a long time. They are a literary form that tends to polarize readers, though for the life of me I can’t understand why.

In a way, to start reading a novel is like beginning a serious courtship. If fortunate, something clicks between the author and the reader that can lead to a magical relationship in a shared world of the imagination.

But as with getting to know people, it takes time to discover if a story is right for you, and time is a commodity in shrinking supply in this modern age.

This is where short stories come in.

Sometimes we just want to date, and not become committed. We simply want a pleasant visit to while away an hour or so. Reading a short story is like a shared coffee with a friend, or someone you think might become one.

Reading a short story can be like test driving a car, taking a tour through a show home, or enjoying a sampler at the grocery store.

You get to test something out that, if it really speaks to you, can lead you into a longer-term relationship with the author’s other works.

From the perspective of the writer, it is a similar experience.

When I write short stories, I get to explore different concepts outside of the constraints of the settings of my novels. They can serve as a literary sketch pad, allowing me to explore and exercise my writing muscles. I can try out new characters, new settings, new literary forms, controversial themes, or points of view. Sometimes I like to write them as a simple palate cleanser after grinding out a novel. (Even authors can get bored writing the same thing all the time.)

Writing short stories allows me to play in different imaginary worlds and hopefully become better at my craft.

Ray Bradbury said that if a writer wants to become a good author, she/he should strive to write a short story a week for a year. He adds that it is almost impossible not to have at least one good story among those 52.

Contrary to what you might think, writing a good short story is not easy. Despite Bradbury’s advice, writing one a week would be a daunting task.

When writing a novel, I have time to build up the story in layers. I have the space to explore the motivations of my characters, their backstory and their world. Writng a novel is painting a literary mural, where a lot of detail and complexity happens over a broad canvas.

Short stories, in contrast, are like painted miniatures. They require an economy of words so the ideas can be communicated with the minimum of description or detail. I must get the idea across quickly and tell the story in a way that is intriguing enough to hold the reader’s interest, even if it is only for an hour or so. Not an easy task.

Writing them is challenging work but is also very gratifying when I successfully pull it off, and nothing gives me greater joy than sharing the result with my readers. It lets them see a part of me that I might not show through my longer works.

Future Vistas, Vol 1, is a collection of some of my science fiction short stories written over the past few years. They span the duration of my writing career, though they are not presented in a particular chronological order. I would like to think that the perceptive reader will read them and hopefully see some progress of my story telling skills over time.

It is my wish that you find these stories entertaining, and possibly inspiring. I hope you consider reading them as time well spent.

.

Doug Pruden

Calgary, March 4, 2021

The Arno Manoeuvre

D o I bore you, Mister Pavlovich?

The young ensign blinked, his attention abruptly yanked back to the present. Straightening in his seat, he adjusted his tunic, stood, and cleared his throat.

No, sir; sorry, sir.

Commander Jasmine Dhaliwal glared at him from behind the podium. With each passing second, the weight of the stern, middle-aged woman’s attention on him multiplied. Yegor Pavlovich did not want to begin his probationary posting being singled out by Kirchoff’s executive officer.

She glanced at the data pad in her hand. You’re a communications specialist, aren’t you?

Yes, Commander.

This says you graduated at the top of your class at the Academy. Is this an error on your file, Ensign?

No, Commander.

Then I presume you must be telepathic or possess some other preternatural ability that enabled you to achieve such a distinguished accomplishment without the benefit of paying attention in your lectures. Am I correct?

With his eyes fixed on her, he didn’t need to risk a glance around him to know every eye in the auditorium watched to learn from his unfortunate example.

No, Commander.

Then how do you explain your accomplishment, Ensign?

A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. He swallowed. Just hard work, Commander.

Really? She paused as if contemplating the meaning of his words. Placing the pad on the podium, she stepped away from it and began to leisurely pace along the raised platform. So, I can only assume your inattention to my operational briefing is due to exhaustion from the long, tiresome transit from Earth. Would I be correct?

He couldn’t muster up the spittle to swallow. Possibly so, sir.

She nodded sympathetically. "The Kirchoff is posted off the beaten path. I presume you endured several light-gate jumps to reach us, which can certainly be exhausting."

He considered answering but realized she hadn’t asked him a question. She made a point of singling him out, and he could do nothing but endure the humiliation for the benefit of the other newly graduated assignees. His cousin had warned him about the importance of avoiding the attention of the abrasive XO before he stepped onto the transport ship back on Terra. More than one aspiring military career ended before it began under her supervision.

He realized with a sudden panic that his mind had wandered again as she addressed him.

...do you, Ensign?

Shit! What did she ask me?

He racked his brain, trying to piece it together from the context— Doctor! She asked if I need to go see the doctor.

Um, no, Commander.

She eyed him skeptically, as if considering how well cooked she wanted her first skewered victim of this new crop of graduate officers.

Sit down, Ensign.

Obediently, he dropped to his seat and slumped down into it to avoid attracting future attention. Picking up his pad, he resolved to be more attentive during the remainder of the briefing.

To Yegor’s embarrassed disappointment, the other new arrivals learned well from his example, and no additional dressings down took place.

As he stood to leave after dismissal, Dhaliwal called for him to remain.

Ensign Pavlovich, Lieutenant Chang came down with something, so you will assume his duties at the communications station after you complete your duty assignment.

A double shift?

She raised a threatening eyebrow.

Realizing his transgression, he said more quietly, A double shift, sir?

I understand Ensign Yamoto is also feeling off-colour. Would you like to take his place in sanitation maintenance, later?

No, Commander.

She scrutinized him for several long seconds. You are dismissed, Pavlovich.

Thank you, Commander. He saluted crisply and hurriedly departed before she thought of another punishment for him.

When he returned to his quarters, his roommate lay on his bunk, listening to music his ear-jacks failed to keep private. It sounded like a reggae rendition of a Bach cello concerto popular back on Earth; not to Yegor’s tastes.

Emil Lagasse turned off his player and sat up to greet him, concern etched on his face. Are you okay?

Frowning, he went to put away his data pad. I’m fine, why?

You’ve earned the distinction of being the first of our graduating class to be served up to Dhaliwal. I never dreamed it would be you.

I hope you didn’t lose too much in the pool.

I still have money on Baker being among the top three, but whoever bet on you won a pile of cash.

I’m glad I made someone’s day. I just pulled a double shift for my trouble.

Lagasse whistled. Impressive. Sewage or rail gun maintenance?

Comm.

Lucky bastard; my first duty in engineering is to paint the bulkheads on deck three.

Don’t be too envious. The day is young. Dhaliwal might yet assign me to something worse.

Just stay out of her sights. Didn’t your cousin warn you?

Pavlovich sighed and flopped onto his bunk. Yeah, he did.

So? What happened? Did you get caught ogling Emma Brady’s magnificent mammaries?

No, but it sounds like they enjoyed your attention during the briefing.

He grinned and leaned back against the bulkhead. You know it. I’m just lucky you landed on Dhaliwal’s radar first. So, what enraptured you?

Yegor shook his head. I don’t know. I think I’m having second thoughts about a deep-space assignment. I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.

You’re kidding, right? All through Academy training you kept telling me how much you wanted to follow in your old man’s footsteps and get your own command one day. What changed?

He shrugged. I dunno.

I think you’re just homesick and don’t want to admit as much. I wagered heavily on you for that distinction, by the way, so don’t fight it.

Pavlovich smiled. You made a bad bet; it’s not homesickness. It’s been on my mind a lot for the past semester. I grew up in a home where my dad logged more hours aboard his ship than with us. I don’t know if I want the same kind of life.

So, if not a career serving with the illustrious fleet of the United Earth Confederation, then what?

I don’t know. Teaching? I could get my advanced degree in linguistics and become an instructor at the Academy.

Emil laughed. Yeah, right. Who is she?

Who’s who?

What cute little civvy piece of tail captured Yegor Pavlovich’s young virginal heart?

He frowned. It’s nothing like that.

His roommate eyed him warily. Should I worry about you, Yeg?

Pavlovich forced a smile and shook his head. No need. Dhaliwal is probably right and I’m just suffering from transit lag. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a couple of days.

Emil Lagasse studied him carefully before nodding. Okay, but if you in the least bit feel homesick, don’t hesitate to tell me. I’ll even split my winnings with you if you do.

Yegor hurled his pillow at him. Kiss your money goodbye, asshole. I need to prepare for my first shift.

If you’re trying to worm yourself back into the XO’s graces, I recommend pressing your duty uniform.

Yegor flipped his middle finger at his friend as he got up to head for the water closet.

Looking in the mirror, he ran his hand over the downy stubble on his chin. Perhaps a shave wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.

Since the start of his last term, he’d considered the merits of growing a beard. Maybe his youthful appearance had contributed to his problem with the XO. His accelerated advancement through the Academy program made him three years younger than most of his graduating class. His clear skin and baby face didn’t do much to mitigate the impression that he wasn’t ready. Dhaliwal, true to her reputation, sniffed out a potential weakness and latched on to it like a pit bull terrier.

He couldn’t bring himself to face the humiliation of admitting to his family, or anyone else besides his best friend that perhaps he didn’t belong in the service.

He’d signed up as a concession to his father. Since he could remember, whenever the old man came home on leave, he never failed to reinforce his desire for his only offspring to follow him into a military career, rise through the ranks, and go further than he did.

Like the obedient son he tried to be, he pursued his father’s dream for him, determined to please a man he saw only a few times a year.

Coming to Kirchoff was like stepping into a cold shower. Away from Earth for the first time in his life and cut off from his friends and family, he discovered, too late, how poorly he fit the military mold. But he could do little about it now. The transport ship he arrived here in departed long ago.

Finished shaving, he regarded himself in the mirror and shook his head. Quitting was not the answer, or even an option. Kirchoff wouldn’t make planet fall for another six months. The only thing he could do was to man up and do as he always did: perform to the best of his ability.

He would prove to Dhaliwal that her first impressions of him did not reflect his true potential.

Pavlovich’s hard work and determination to follow the rules to the letter did not pave over his rocky start with Jasmine Dhaliwal. It seemed no matter what he did, he could not find the woman’s good side. He began to doubt she possessed one, since none of his fellow graduates succeeded in satisfying the stern XO’s impossible expectations either.

As days merged into weeks, life aboard the UEF battle cruiser Kirchoff fell into a tiresome, unchanging routine. Only the degree of Dhaliwal’s bad mood varied at the day’s duty briefing. He decided the woman had never learned how to smile.

After three months, the time arrived for his first-quarter review, and the prospect made him more nervous than any exam at the Academy ever had.

He didn’t fear what Captain Arno would tell him; he entertained no doubt Dhaliwal’s report painted an uncomplimentary portrait of him. His anxiety was derived from the request he intended to make of his commanding officer.

His only encounters with Julius Arno took place on a handful of occasions when his duties placed them both on the bridge. Even then, the much decorated fifty-five-year-old captain spent most of his time in his adjacent office, leaving the actual management of ship’s operations to his XO.

As he waited in the mess hall for the call to his interview, Yegor doubted the captain would connect his face with Dhaliwal’s damning report until they met. It should be easy for Arno to approve the transfer request of an undistinguished underperforming ensign he probably didn’t recognize. His voluntary departure would make room for an officer better suited to a career on a deep-space patrol ship; someone who could meet Dhaliwal’s uncompromising expectations.

He couldn’t fault her. Although his time aboard Kirchoff had been routinely unremarkable, it wasn’t necessarily the norm. The United Confederation of Planets fell far from its founding vision of being a utopian union of human settled worlds across the galaxy. Hostilities frequently broke out on colony planets or between neighbouring star systems within the empire, which required the intervention of the military. At any moment, every member of the crew might be called upon to perform their duties flawlessly. Anything less could cost lives in a crucial situation. Dhaliwal weeded each crop of new graduates aspiring to secure a position on a UEF ship of the line. Only the best would be chosen, and Yegor Pavlovich realized he did not deserve the honour. His request would make the captain’s life easier and make room for someone better suited.

Waiting to be called, he nursed his third cup of coffee. Nearly an hour had passed since his scheduled meeting time. Captain Arno prided himself on punctuality, so the delay suggested something more pressing had his attention.

As he debated what he should do, the ship’s intercom clicked loudly, and Dhaliwal’s voice came over it, heralding a forthcoming address from the commanding officer.

"This is the captain. We are ordered to rendezvous with a Taskforce under the command of Admiral Ghelletti. Kirchoff will transit with four other ships through the nearest jump gate to 61 Virginis to quell a rebellion on the Ymir Colony. Fleet intelligence reports do not anticipate us meeting resistance upon our arrival, and our role is intended to act as a show of force to promote a peaceful end to rebel hostilities. From this moment, we are on alert status. All crew report to your assigned battle commanders. More information will be relayed to you as we are updated. Arno out."

Pavlovich didn’t need to ask anyone what the developing situation meant for him. His interview and his opportunity to request a transfer were postponed. A thrill ran through him as he realized the possibility of action on the horizon. Arno’s announcement lifted the smothering pall threatening to suffocate him. Perhaps fate intervened in his favour and prevented him from making a terrible mistake. If he could prove himself during this mission, Dhaliwal’s report might yet be amended favourably.

Hey, Yegor, called Lagasse from the doorway. The XO is looking for you. She wants you on the command deck.

What about you?

He grinned broadly. I’m assigned to the engine room. I’ll catch you up at the shift change.

His roommate disappeared into the stream of men and women hurrying through the corridors to their designated positions.

Gulping down the last of his cold coffee, Yegor Pavlovich stepped out to join the flow of bodies, determined to discover what fate the universe planned for him.

The oppressive hum of the ship’s