SSH in Space

A pair of new science fiction novels

That’s not at all an accurate description of the pair of novels that JDA and I recently published and put on preorder, respectively. The science of natural selection in space is more like it. But it probably won’t surprise anyone who reads Space Fleet Academy to occasionally observe small elements of the SSH in action, considering that intersexual relations do play a small part of the events of the first Biostellar novels.

Currently, SPACE FLEET ACADEMY: YEAR ONE is the #1 bestseller in Military Science Fiction, which was a nice surprise.

An excerpt follows:

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Admiral Silver was smaller than Constantine had expected. She was hardly imposing, but her eyes swept over the assembled cadets with the same cold calculation he’d seen in Sebastien Cabot-Winthrop’s gaze. Her uniform bore the insignia of Fleet Command and the medals of a career spent in deep space. Her long hair was white and she did not smile.

“Four thousand of you have been accepted to Space Fleet Academy. Approximately three thousand of you will graduate. The other one thousand will fail.”

Her voice carried through the hall without amplification, clear and cold.

“The Academy is not a school. It is a filter. Our purpose is to identify those capable of making the decisions that humanity’s survival requires, and to remove those who are not.”

She smiled for the first time. It was a cold, judicious smile, and Constantine took no comfort in it.

“The Academy has already rejected more than 120,000 applicants for the four thousand spots you presently hold. Most of them fell short intellectually or physically. Many fell short in their academic accomplishments. Many others, through no fault of their own, failed the genetic assessments. We did not hesitate to remove them from the process, so I expect you will understand that we will not hesitate to fail you should you fall short of our standards in any way.”

The words settled over the hall like a change in atmospheric pressure. Around Constantine, faces that had been nervous or excited went pale, and some looked outright stricken. This was not the inspirational address four thousand first-years had been expecting.

“You are here because you demonstrated exceptional capability in your entrance examinations. You have shown tremendous potential. But your potential is not enough. What we require is achievement and accomplishment. The capabilities you have proven so far mean nothing in comparison to the challenges you will face here.”

Silver’s gaze swept the room.

“The Mandate we serve requires officers who can make impossible choices. It is our duty to produce officers who can send good people to die on frontier worlds knowing those deaths serve the species. It is our responsibility to produce officers who not only understand what acceptable losses means, but who can accept and apply that concept.”

She paused.

“You are being trained to give orders that will cause people to die. Good people. Nice people. Adults and children alike who deserve to live. The only question is whether you are able to make the choices your duty demands, and in doing so, protect the species and preserve the race of Man.”

Constantine thought he had fully understood the Mandate’s logic since his father took him to the memorial column on New Carthage. But understanding the logic and hearing its cruel consequences spoken aloud by a woman who had clearly given those terrible orders herself were wholly different things.

Beside him, Elena sat motionless, her attention fixed on Silver with the focused stillness of someone absorbing data.

“Nervous?” she asked without turning.

“Should I be?”

“Everyone is. Even if only the honest ones admit it.”

Silver continued, and much to the relief of her audience, smoothly transitioned from the philosophy of the institution to its mechanics. The Academy had been founded in the decade after the Cascade, once it became clear the Mandate would require a permanent officer corps capable of managing humanity’s expansion across interstellar distances. The traditions, the honour codes, and the four-year crucible were all designed to produce officers with steel spines who could make difficult decisions in spite of social pressures that would crush the average person with normal human sensibilities.

Constantine listened, but part of his attention had been caught by movement on the far side of the hall. A figure sat apart from the massed cadets, in a section reserved for faculty and observers. Silver-blonde hair caught the stage light with an unnatural quality.

The woman was beautiful in a way that made the word feel like the wrong category. Perfect symmetry, regal bone structure, large eyes reflecting the light at an angle human eyes didn’t. She sat with an absolute stillness, as if she’d chosen to be motionless rather than simply happening to be still.

Kaelori. He’d seen images during his preparation. None had captured this quality of being almost human but operating on different specifications.

Elena had noticed him looking. “That’s Arwen Versperlyn. Kaelori cultural exchange observer. She’s been studying humanity’s approach to genetic crisis management.” A pause. “Try not to stare. They’re literally designed to draw attention.”

Designed. The word carried specific weight in this context. The Kaelori had solved their own genomic crisis five thousand years ago through engineering, reshaping their species into something beautiful and long-lived. They were intelligent, physically superior to baseline humans, and living testimony to the fact that genetic engineering was an option. Their very existence was a rebuke to the Accords, to the Mandate, and everything the Wall of Names represented.

Or a warning, depending on who you asked. The Kaelori had solved the problem, but they’d also eliminated one of their three original sexes in the process, eighty-five percent of their population, and restructured their entire reproductive biology. Some xenobiologists argued the result was no longer meaningfully the same species as its pre-intervention ancestors.

They were evidence that genetic engineering worked, if you were willing to become something else entirely.

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We’ve also put the sequel, SPACE FLEET ACADEMY: YEAR TWO on preorder. It will be published on 26 March 2026, about two weeks after SIGMA GAME is released.