This project originally started as a homebrewed Traveller universe. But at some point I decided to try to write a full novel involving some of the historical characters in that universe.
I also mention Traveller in a bit of chapter eight:
Susan stopped walking and looked at me as if she was weighing me up for something. She then spoke.
“Alan?”
“Yes?”
“Why aren’t you running for office?”
“Because John March is electable, I’m not.” I said. “And we both came to that conclusion before you were born.”
I don’t believe that Susan ever expected that answer.
“We met about three decades ago,” I told her, “at The Little Tin Soldier Shop up on Lake Street in Minneapolis. John came in on Friday night, the role playing game night.” I said. “He wanted to play Dungeons And Dragons, and I introduced him to a science fiction based game called Traveller.”
If Susan’s jaw was not permanently attached I’m sure it would have hit the floor at that moment. Apparently, a bit stunned, Susan replied with only a single word.
“Okay.”
I had to say something.
“John’s parents were grooming all of their children for a political career.” I said. “It’s just that they were active supporters of the other party.”
Susan thought for a moment, and then asked another question.
“They blame you for John going to the Republicans?”
“Yes.” I replied. “And I’ve been keeping an eye out for that damned Spaniard and his ice pick for the last three decades. But I think John would’ve gone over anyway, he was very much an independent thinker in his own right.”
And then another thing popped up form memory.
“Seriously,” I said, “when the petition to place John on the ballot for governor was passed around everyone on the faculty, except that idiot from the Maryknoll Order, signed it just to get rid of him.”
Susan nodded and smiled.
“Yes.” She said. “Father Jones was funny that way.”
I also mention Traveller in a bit of chapter eight:
Susan stopped walking and looked at me as if she was weighing me up for something. She then spoke.
“Alan?”
“Yes?”
“Why aren’t you running for office?”
“Because John March is electable, I’m not.” I said. “And we both came to that conclusion before you were born.”
I don’t believe that Susan ever expected that answer.
“We met about three decades ago,” I told her, “at The Little Tin Soldier Shop up on Lake Street in Minneapolis. John came in on Friday night, the role playing game night.” I said. “He wanted to play Dungeons And Dragons, and I introduced him to a science fiction based game called Traveller.”
If Susan’s jaw was not permanently attached I’m sure it would have hit the floor at that moment. Apparently, a bit stunned, Susan replied with only a single word.
“Okay.”
I had to say something.
“John’s parents were grooming all of their children for a political career.” I said. “It’s just that they were active supporters of the other party.”
Susan thought for a moment, and then asked another question.
“They blame you for John going to the Republicans?”
“Yes.” I replied. “And I’ve been keeping an eye out for that damned Spaniard and his ice pick for the last three decades. But I think John would’ve gone over anyway, he was very much an independent thinker in his own right.”
And then another thing popped up form memory.
“Seriously,” I said, “when the petition to place John on the ballot for governor was passed around everyone on the faculty, except that idiot from the Maryknoll Order, signed it just to get rid of him.”
Susan nodded and smiled.
“Yes.” She said. “Father Jones was funny that way.”
