The Lost Era: Well of Souls: Star Trek (50 page)

She waited as everyone in the room raised their glasses. She glanced at Stern, gave her friend a wink then turned her smile to her family—her crew.

“To us,” she said, simply. “To the future. Welcome back, Commander. Welcome home.”

There are a few people without whom this book wouldn’t have seen the light of day, and they deserve recognition and special thanks.

First and foremost, my most profound thanks and gratitude go to Marco Palmieri, an editor who took a chance on an unknown because, as he put it, sometimes you just gotta roll the dice. Marco has been the most patient, encouraging, and available of mentors, and his invaluable comments and insights into the manuscript, from proposal to outline to finished product, made my work—already enjoyable—an invaluable learning experience as well. Thanks, Marco: let’s hope you rolled a lucky seven. I know I did; other newbies should be so fortunate.

My thanks go to Keith DeCandido, writer and editor, who went over this manuscript with a fine-toothed comb, provided copious and exhaustive notes, and dinged me, gently, on the craft of telling a story well—and dang, if he wasn’t right about those point-of-view shifts. Thanks also to Paula Block at Paramount, who gave my outline the go-ahead.

There is one person who deserves my very special thanks: the editor who gave me my first break. Since 1999, Dean Wesley Smith has been a teacher to whom I have turned repeatedly for help and advice. Dean is not only a great writer;
he is also an unselfish and experienced teacher of a craft he truly loves and champions. Dean has been encouraging when I’ve been discouraged; he’s listened to rants; he’s wisely chosen not to respond to self-pity; and he’s not been above giving me a nice supportive boot in the pants when I’ve needed it (thank God, not often). Above all, Dean and his wife, the equally impassioned and accomplished writer Kristine Kathryn Rusch, have taught me that, barring the sun going nova, I really am responsible for my own career. Dean, I am indebted more than I can say, or possibly express.

Finally, my tally wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t thank my husband, David. Seven years ago, David was the one who dared to voice what I could only half-acknowledge: that writing is what I’ve always wanted to do. Since then, David’s enthusiasm, support, and love have made it possible for me
to
write, and while I don’t think that he or my two girls, Carolyn and Sarah, suffered too terribly much, I know that he had to put up with his share of what he’s come to call my “writing frenzies.” Wisely, he knows when to phone Domino’s and keep the children at bay.

Ilsa J. Bick is a child, adolescent, and forensic psychiatrist and has written extensively on psychoanalysis and cinema. One day, her husband insisted that what she really wanted to do was chuck all that psychoanalytic stuff and write stories. After staring at acoustical tile in her analyst’s office for two—three years, she decided he knew her pretty darn well and since then, she’s done okay. Her story “A Ribbon for Rosie” won Grand Prize in
Star Trek: Strange New Worlds II,
and “Shadows, in the Dark” took Second Prize in
Vol. IV.
Her novelette “The Quality of Wetness” (Second Prize) appeared in
Writers of the Future, Vol. XVI.
Her work has appeared, among other places, in SCIFI.COM,
Challenging Destiny,
and
Talebones.
Her short story “Strawberry Fields” appeared in
Beyond the Last Star
(edited by Sherwood Smith) and her story “Alice, on the Edge of Night” was published in
Star
Trek: New Frontier. No Limits
(edited by Peter David). This is her first published novel. She lives in Wisconsin, with her husband, two children, three cats, and other assorted vermin.

(
JAN
, 2004)—Scanned, proofed, and formatted by
Bibliophile
.