How I Came to be a Character in a Science Fiction Novella

Most of you know my nephew Kyle J. Knapp died nearly three years ago in a fire. A way of coping from the loss was to continue publishing books of his poetry that I had started when he was still alive. Then, after reading his dream journals, another idea came to me in which I asked several writers to compose a short story based on a snippet from one of Kyle’s dreams for The Lizard’s Ardent Uniform.

There was one dream that was particularly special to me and I knew just the person who could do it justice. The dream: Kyle (a huge Doctor Who enthusiast) had to save my life from a sabotaged mission by time traveling in a pair of my futuristic gravity boots—what a kick that was to read!

So I approached my good friend Garnett Elliott whose work has appeared in countless magazines, including Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. The result was “The Zygma Gambit.” There was real magic happening among those pages, and Garnett has since written “Carnosaur Weekend” where we stop crooked developers from exploiting the Late Cretaceous. The newly released “Apocalypse Soon” has us on a high octane undertaking reminiscent of Mad Max! My alter ego name: Damon Cole. Pretty damn cool, huh? But the biggest thrill is Kyle (aka Kyler) continues to live, breathe, soaring through space and time. Does the heart good. Hope you take a look and enjoy.

Frequencies Open, Captain Cranmer

I’m on the USS Enterprise, my first day on the job, walking around in jeans and a plain old T-shirt. I’m led into a room that’s to the right of the elevator in the original series. I know that’s not spatially correct, but I have bigger concerns ... I’m worried about what color shirt I’ll be wearing. Please don’t be red! I tell myself. In the room, I’m handed a ‘Spock’ blue shirt, and I sigh a relief.

I’m left alone to put it on. It feels comfortable (though I remember William Shatner said in an interview that they were not), but it’s too long, stretching almost to my knees. I don’t have time to think about it as someone comes in and whisks me away, out of the starship.

The Enterprise is docked on Earth, and it’s a beautiful sunny day. Apparently, back on board, the crew members on the bridge are preparing for an emergency drill training session that I will be leading. Sensing my unease, Kirk slaps me on the back and says, “You’ll do fine.” Then he escorts me back to the bridge. The training begins with a scenario of another ship’s crew in danger on a foreign planet.

“Open all frequencies,” I tell Uhura.

“Frequencies open, Captain,” she replies.

I speak loudly into the air, asking, “How many casualties?”

“Seventy-nine,” a male voice crackles back from the imagined faraway outpost. Anguished screams and explosions sound in the background. They are under attack from a formidable opponent. Probably Klingon.

I tell him what to do to save his crew and repair the situation. “Keep me posted,” I command with authority. I click off the intercom, and then as an afterthought, I click back on, adding, “But don’t call us, we’ll call you!”

My lame joke is well received with everyone on the Enterprise Bridge as they double over with laughter.