Okay! It's our last day of blitzing, and though we took a loooooooong break, we saved a pretty great piece for the end. We have to say, we're pretty stinking proud of our authors at this point. A couple weeks ago, we started an Inauguration Blitz—not annual, since this only happens once every four to eight years! Our … once-every-four-to-eight-years Inauguration Blitz, then. And this week we're finishing up, since we had so many authors involved that we couldn't fit them all in. We've focusing on government, how the country was born, presidential and congressional behavior and ethics, and—most importantly—the idea of revolution. Because we are firm believers that any country deserves the best possible government--and that ours is facing ... a leader who is failing, honestly. With that in mind, we’ve gathered some of our favorite revolutionary characters for some down-and-dirty answers about their fights, who they’re fighting against, and when they know it's time to stand up and fight for the right side.

We focused on new authors and older, and did interviews with their main characters--and what they were doing to survive. Our final interview is from Sonya Craig who writes hard sci fi and space operas (and is also a scientist and an illustrator!). Her first book with Glass House features a space mission gone ... well, wrong, and the revolution that may--or may not--be born of it. We took a moment to interview her main character about her world, the situation, and how she's fighting to stand up and take control.

1.     So first, the obvious. Tell us about your world. Where do you live? What’s the story there?

My name is Taiga and, well, I’m a soldier. So I live wherever the State sends me. Sometimes I’m on base. Sometimes I’m sent to the bottom of the ocean to help some civvies stuck on a crumpled section of the Pacific Subway Crossing. Sometimes I’m at various survival camps: Camp Essex, where I got my oh-so-unattractive scar, Camp Shackleton, where I damn near died of hypothermia, Camp Blige, where I damn near died when a broken rib punctured my lung, and Camp SanJohn, where nothing exciting happened and I damn near died of boredom. The only good thing that happened at SanJohn was Hansen the slime muppet wiped his butt with poison ivy and waddled like a pale, annoying duck for a week.
But hey, right now I’m on my very first Outbound mission, so huzzah for that, even if it is some kind of sciencey assignment about studying alien flora and fauna and other text-bookish words like Worthiness Litmus Test and Comparative Zenology. I’ve only been trying my whole seventeen years to go Outbound though, so I would’ve taken the commission even if it was scrubbing latrines on a distant gas dwarf.
I earned this high honor by stunning the crud out of a bunch of anarchist protesters, and maybe I’ve got mixed feelings about that. But if I do I sure won’t be sharing them with the State. That kind of touchy feely shiz will get you booted out. “Booted out” being one of the many euphemisms for “permanently discharged” or “given notice” or, as we soldiers call it, “dead.” This alien planet the State sent me to, though? It’s freaky. And its inhabitants? Well, let’s just say they give new meaning to the word “wildlife.”
But stuff is happening here—stuff I can’t talk about, stuff involving the aliens and the State … and it’s making me feel really weird and confused. Whatever you do, don’t tell anyone I said this. I mean really don’t tell anyone, or that booted out thing? It’ll be me next.
And I’d rather not go out that way.

2.     Got it. And now, the bad guy. Who are you fighting against? And why?

      That’s the thing: I don’t know who I’m fighting against at this point. Everything is a confusing, muddled crapfest of what-the-ever-absolute-hell-is-going-on. This mission ... it isn't what it seems, and I don't think it's just a la la nature study anymore. I think it may even be … oh, Mustafo’s mangy mudrat, I can’t believe I’m saying this … it may be something not right. Something ... sinister. And in the middle of this shizpile, surrounded by chaos and cryptic orders from above, I think I'm gonna have to pick a side soon. Choose one side and I'm a loyal soldier. I get to make my lifelong hero, kickbutt Beta Quinslo, proud. I earn the respect of my superiors. And I probably get some medals and ribbons and a commendation and other nifty stuff.
      Choose the other side and I get the title of Earth's Biggest Traitor Ever—and the personal firing squad that goes along with it. Blindfolded and gunned down by my peers on camera while crowds cheer my demise. But here's the thing: Does following orders always make you a good soldier? I'm not so sure anymore. And I’m starting to think that an awful lot is riding on me figuring that out. And when I say awful lot, I mean only the future of the entire Sol System and its billions of people, and the future of this planet and its possibly endearing or possibly menacing weirdo aliens. The fate of billions riding on little ol’ nobody me. No freakin’ pressure.

3.     What do you think of revolutions, then? Obviously you’re starting to believe that everything isn’t as it seems—and sometimes it’s not right. If you come across a corrupt government or system, do you think it’s your responsibility to fight them?

      Corrupt? Who’s corrupt? The aliens? The State? Hansen in all his jerkwadishness? The suit that sent me down to this planet, and his toadie scientists? If you know the answer, please let me know because I’m in a ginormous, hot mess here. Confusing orders, my superiors acting sketchy, explosions, shuttles crashing for no reason that makes any kind of sense… Argh! But okay, let’s say I did find out that someone was being a lousy, slimy creep. Then yeah, I’d take them down. That’s what soldiers do, right? We fight for good. We stand a post and say, “No bad stuff is gonna happen to you. Not on my watch.”

4.     What’s your goal right now? What do you hope to see happen?

      Um, my goal is to know why I was sent here. And why in the ever lovin’ hell the snafufest of crashes and explosions and germy infestations keep happening. And what the hell is my role in this mission and hell, in this freaky life? Because you’re right—something is going on here, and it may be something bad. Which means I need to figure it the hell out before it destroys me and maybe everyone around me and maybe millions and billions of people; bouncy babbly babies, wise old pie-baking grannies, goofy uncles, huggy moms, hardworking dads, adorable-beyond-belief kiddos, etc etc etc…
      What do I want to see happen? How about we all get out of here alive. And by that I mean everyone, including a certain secret someone I really, really can’t talk about because of a sticky little offense called treason. Just eff me. Oh man, am I in deep.

5.     Do you think you’ll succeed?

      I’ll succeed at whatever the heck I’m supposed to do or I’ll die, hopefully not in one of the yucky ways I learned about in my Gruesome Ways You May Die class.

6.     How do you know you’re doing the right thing? Don’t you think there are a lot of other people who are probably on the other side of the line?

      I guess I’ll know if I’m doing the right thing if:
a.     I see that a person or group of people is being shoved in harm’s way and I protect them—and do no harm along the way myself.
b.     My actions do good to the world/galaxy/universe, like making universe-sized peace a thing. Although as a State soldier, I’ve never seen that one in the instruction manual.
c.     Maybe I could get rid of gross stuff like people looking down on other people, and in its place, make something better … like people maybe trying to get to know each other?

7.     Final question. What do you think of being a heroine rather than a hero? Does it matter? Can a girl be just as revolutionary as a boy?

      Whaaa…? Ridic question deserving of a solid kick to the shin or somewhere more painful. Except I have restraint (depending on the situation and the person or Hansen-like asshat talking to me) so I’m just gonna shake my head and roll my eyes and forget I was ever asked this. Excuse me while I go look at pictures of cute kitties to decompress and then go heroically try to save the universe. Because GIRL.

Get the low-down on Sonya's kickass characters and their coming battle via her social media!

Instagram: @sonyakcraig


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