Amp Squad and the Taking On of Labels

Over the past ten years, I’ve accumulated a few LGBTQIA labels - Asexual, Aromantic, Agender… I remember a time when the A stood for ‘ally,’ and I still encounter arguments on the internet about it meaning any and all of my labels. In more recent language, the list stops at Q… which used to stand for ‘questioning,’ but is now generally listed as ‘queer.’ According to some, ‘queer’ being an umbrella term for nonbinary and gender-queer identities, but depending who you talk to, the umbrella could be even bigger. There really can’t be one list that defines all sexual/gender identities because there are so many, and while some might try to use LGBTQIA+ and queer as synonyms, not everyone is comfortable with the queer label.

On the one hand, it’s just easier to say that I’m queer than to explain my assorted labels. It’s easier to say that I’m a queer sci-fi writer and that I write queer characters. Although the word was one used as a slur, language evolves, and (some) modern Pride movements have reclaimed the word, and use it as a positive affirmation. I’m part of a Queer Sci-fi community, and have grown accustomed to calling myself a queer sci-fi author who writes queer characters. Also, given how much in the minority my particular identities are, sometimes it’s just easier to say queer. It simplifies the conversation.

Last year, I wrote about my journey to accepting the trans label, because technically agender falls under trans, whether I feel trans or not. And the thing about labels is that they are personal. You don’t have to accept a label just because someone else thinks you fit in that box. (I wrote a screenplay about this a few years ago.) Part of being queer is realizing the labels you were born with (or the ones assumed to be default) aren’t the right ones for you.

Which brings me to Amp Squad. I debated with myself over whether to use this title, because in Ship Whisperer, the Amps didn’t like being called ‘Amp.’ Tabitha would use it for herself, but respected that others like her were more sensitive about the label, which was shorthand for “amputee.” Three of the five amputees did not advertise their missing limbs, and in the story, I deliberately did not address which limb(s) they were missing.

In Amp Squad, I develop a new terminology for those with super powers: Amplified Power Individuals. The characters appreciate the API terminology, because it shifts the focus from their missing limbs to their growing powers. It also gives the term ‘Amp’ an alternate meaning that they can latch onto with pride. The reclaiming of the word is a slow process, explored internally by the team as they test the label. The bigger battle for them it reminding the military that APIs are not soldiers. They are civilians… except for the main character, Tabitha, whose loyalty to the military is constantly challenged by their treatment of the APIs.

Labels are tools. They are a shorthand to describe something complex with a single word. But words have power — to unite, to divide. Take your word power, and use it for good.

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Amp Squad - Ship Whisperer 2 - Excerpt

Counting down to the release of Amp Squad, the exciting new addition to the Ship Whisperer series!

*~*

Feared by her own kind. Hunted by extraterrestrial forces. Can one super soldier find her place among the stars?

Lieutenant Tabitha Chiu is plagued by doubt and conflict. Still heartbroken over the loss of her AI companion and marooned on a faraway moon, the space marine and her ragtag team of super-powered civilians stand as the last line of defense against alien hunters. But when her powers pick up whispered threats of approaching invaders, she’s horrified to discover her own people have betrayed her squad.

Barely escaping assassination, Tabitha and her fellow psionics flee the hateful moon to the sanctuary of a single surviving combat ship where she hopes to reunite with her AI friend. But when her newly resurrected acquaintance hijacks the craft, the nonbinary fighter is torn between protecting those she loves best and saving humanity from annihilation.

Can this conflicted officer and her misfit allies defeat a formidable enemy intent on driving them to extinction?

*~* 

EXCERPT:

As Tabitha scrambled over the algae-coated rocks and into the makeshift city, hastily assembled from scraps of metal and rock, she heard shouting and saw a gathered crowd—about twenty people and growing. Words like ‘invader’ and ‘Yassi scum’ cut through the noise. Though most of them just stood watching, the verbal assault spread with added suggestions like ‘kill it now!’

“Sheriff, there’s a mob assaulting someone by the S-4 building,” Tabitha reported, reading the identifier off the nearest building. She relayed a similar message to the Nav’s master-at-arms and others she thought could help. The metal warehouses lining the street would become apartments one day, but for now they were either crowded with civilians or supplies. They had just enough insulation to protect people from the weather. S-4 was a supply building, conveniently out of view of casual gawkers.

Tabitha remembered Bailin talking about coming into the city to check on her godson, and she scanned for the child, but didn’t see him. She prayed he wasn’t in the middle of the mob with Bailin.

Bouncing on her heels, Tabitha grew impatient waiting for back-up. She hadn’t heard a telepathic cry from Bailin since the first. Pressing into the crowd, she forced her way closer to the center. There were three stocky attackers with gritted teeth, tattered clothes, and callused hands. Two of the assailants held Bailin upright, pulling her arms to either side. The third had an aluminum bat, and he tapped it against her limbs, taunting her. Bailin’s face was bruised and bleeding, and she could barely hold her head up. The guy with the bat smashed Bailin’s left arm hard enough to break bone, and Tabitha charged in. She’d trained in hand-to-hand combat for years, and as stupid as it was to take on a mob by herself, she couldn’t let them kill Bailin.

Heading straight for the leader, she punched him in the shoulder, grabbed his bat, and kicked his groin, leaving him down long enough to smash his face. She swung the bat with a light grip so she wouldn’t kill him, but she felt his cheek shatter anyway. 

One of the people holding Bailin instantly ran off, not interested in fighting, but the other one charged at Tabitha. She swung around with the bat, but didn’t have enough space to move, and hit them with a weak strike to the ribs. It was enough to make them angry, but didn’t slow them down. Their fist flew toward her face.

“Left,” she whispered, pushing her Yassi power behind the word. She couldn’t control people’s minds, but she could occasionally nudge in a misdirect. The blow glanced her cheek. Thrown off balance, her attacker fell on her, and they landed on the ground. The attacker grappled for the bat, but Tabitha rolled, kicked, and held on. She found her feet first, smacked the bigot’s shoulder with the bat, then hurried over to Bailin’s crumpled form.

The mob hadn’t scattered, but people seemed reluctant to fight her, and they started calling for the sheriff, and for her death. Blood trickled from her nose. If enough of them wanted to kill her, they could stop her heart with a unified thought. That was the fatal weakness of the Yassi, and why they preferred to fight covertly from a distance.

“Tabs, stay out of the city,” Ryo Takumi warned, speaking telepathically into her mind. She and Ryo had been imprinted since childhood, and once Tabitha’s powers activated, their weak intuition for knowing what the other was thinking had evolved into full-on conversations. “I’ll get her to you. Stay in the Nav borders!”

“Too late,” Tabitha said, sending him a mental image of her current predicament. The mob had her surrounded, which emboldened more fighters to try and take her on. Another two charged her, and when she swung the bat, one grabbed it and tried to yank it out of her hands. Not about to surrender the only weapon in the circle, Tabitha threw her momentum toward them, pushing them off balance and into the crowd. Then, she gave them an extra jab for good measure.

“Command them to run home,” Tabitha hollered to Bailin. The woman trembled and clutched her broken arm. Dented, actually. The arm was prosthetic. That didn’t diminish the brutality of her injuries.

“Trying.” Her voice was a whisper in Tabitha’s mind, which meant it would be a whisper in the crowd’s as well. Tabitha heard an echoed whisper say, “Stay down,” and assumed that was meant for the ones Tabitha had already injured. Still, down was never a safe place to be in a mob.

“Eyes covered!” Ryo warned, sending her an image of a flash. Tabitha dove toward Bailin, shielding them both from the light of the flash-bang. The bright light and loud noise startled the crowd, bringing many to their knees. Civil unrest had exploded since the crash-landing, and flash-bangs had become an unfortunately regular occurrence.

The concussive shock hurt Tabitha’s ears, but she knew she had only seconds to take advantage. Scooping up Bailin, she staggered through the frightened crowd, unable to see or hear.

“Ryo, where are you?” she cried. A map appeared in her mind, and she closed her eyes, letting it guide her. Even though foot traffic had worn down the path, the uneven terrain was difficult to navigate. The disoriented crowd bumped against her, but she forced her way through, moving to the edge so she could disappear between the metal buildings. Someone grabbed her arm, and she couldn’t jab without dropping Bailin, so she kicked. 

“Tabs, it’s me!” Ryo said, taking her arm again, guiding her away. He could have been shouting, but she couldn’t tell over the ringing in her ears. There was no time to stop and evaluate Bailin’s injuries. 

They didn’t slow until they reached the Nav border. In the days after landing, the Nav had separated themselves from the civilian population to keep order and maintain control over the supplies needed for salvage. The other officers could move freely in and out of the Nav section to visit family, but for Tabitha and the Amps, this protected area felt more like a prison.

Ryo tried to take Bailin from Tabitha, but Bailin gripped the front of Tabitha’s shirt and pressed her bloody face against Tabitha’s shoulder.

“I’ve got her,” Tabitha said. Her adrenaline had spiked in the fight, and she still had energy to burn. Still, she’d been lucky most of the mob had run from the physical fight.

Ryo shouldered his long-barreled stun rifle, and a few other soldiers flanked them, creating a protective bubble. Tabitha saw Commander Olsen pointing them away from the infirmary hut and toward the shielded Amp hut. The specially coated walls could theoretically protect them from a psychic attack if the city turned against them. Before they reached it, a concussive force knocked Tabitha off her feet. Bailin landed hard on Tabitha’s stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Smoke choked her lungs, and a blazing fire lit up the camp. Ryo crouched next to Tabitha and Bailin, arms wrapped protectively around them as the heat became nearly unbearable. The Amp hut burned at the center of the blaze! Their refuge—their home. Someone had destroyed it.

“Aiwu!” Tabitha hollered, crying for the AI companion who had raised her. While Aiwu’s body had been destroyed in battle, her memory lived on in a quantum cube. Saku gave her a hard time for carrying the cube around all the time, but Aiwu was family. Today was the first time she’d let his nagging get to her, and she’d left Aiwu in the hut. Tabitha crawled toward the flames, tears streaming down her face, but Bailin tightened her grip, grunting as she tried to get out the word “no.”

“Pick me up. Walk toward the forest,” she whispered in Tabitha’s mind, the order coming with a strong telepathic nudge. They’d promised each other they wouldn’t do that—they wouldn’t force anyone to act against their will.

“Hurry. Before someone else tries to kill us,” Bailin said.

“Sand. We need sand. And a perimeter. Make a perimeter,” Ryo said, bringing his shirt up to block the smoke from his nose and mouth. “Tabs—”

“I have to get Bailin safe…” Tabitha trailed off, the shock of seeing her home in flames numbing her senses. It wasn’t just Aiwu she’d lost. At this time of evening, all the Amps and AIs would have been in there. Tabitha and Bailin were the only ones left.

“Right. Medical tent. You stay there with her,” Ryo said, helping Tabitha find her balance with Bailin in her arms. Confusion compounded the ringing in Tabitha’s ears, and she stumbled into the darkness, the fire getting hotter against her back.

“Forest. Please,” Bailin whispered. The nudge came again, weak enough that Tabitha could resist if she wanted. At the moment, she was too numb to argue the alternative. Tears welled in Tabitha’s eyes as she realized what was happening—she and Bailin had to disappear.

*~*

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Nothing to Prove - From Apathy to Agender

 Last year, I released a book called The Qinali Virus, featuring an asexual aromantic character, because I wanted to see people like me represented in fiction. In this future society, gender isn’t assumed or assigned at birth. Children use neutral pronouns unless they express a desire to be otherwise. In one of the scenes, my main character Amber says she wishes she’d kept her neutral pronouns. It’s a passing thought for her, but this character was very much a reflection of me and I started looking at my own relationship with my gender.

I’ve been “cis-apathetic” for much of my life. I never felt like a girl, but I also knew for sure I wasn’t a boy. The nuance of nonbinary identity wasn’t part of my vocabulary, so apathy set in. I dissociated from my body. I remember feeling very out of place as a woman in science, because ‘woman’ wasn’t part of my identity. It was just a happenstance.

 

After writing The Qinali Virus, I figured out I was agender. I was very insistent on that label, because other labels seemed to imply the existence of gender, and I have none. It took time to accept that “not cisgender” means trans, because I didn’t feel trans either. I think it’s partly because society trains us to think and recognize trans along a binary. If you’re not girl, you must transition to boy. So it’s very confusing for the nonbinary, genderqueer, gender fluid, agender, and everyone else whose resting point is not on the binary or even on the so-called spectrum. I also felt that if I were going to be trans, then I had to do something to prove it, like change my name and pronouns. 

 

Which brings me to Ship Whisperer – the story of a nonbinary explorer who discovers she has the ability to talk to spaceships. It’s mentioned a few times that she is nonbinary, and early beta-readers even commented that it was easy to forget, because she’s not using neutral pronouns. But you know what? That’s just fine. She doesn’t have to change her pronouns to prove she fits the category. The phases she went through to find her pronouns aren’t part of this book, but she found them.

 

I’m not a woman. I often think of changing my name and my pronouns, but whether I do or not, it won’t prove or disprove my trans-ness. I’m agender, and saying it is enough.

Ship Whisperer comes out October 14! Pre-order now!

Finding my truth in writing my own voice

By the time I set out to write The Qinali Virus, I had been an out and proud aromantic/ asexual for many years. I debated whether I wanted to write a character who was too much like me. But since there are so few people like me in the books I read, I went for it. People shouldn’t have to choose between a handful of books for representation. There should be so many that people can actually choose their favorite and feel safe to dislike some without derailing the genre.

The Qinali Virus features an aromantic asexual astronomer who learns she has the ability to astral project. Amber grew up in a utopic society, and one of the features is that gender identities are not thrust on young children. People get to choose.

The notion to use gender-neutral pronouns in the story came from a podcast I listened to, where I heard the salutation “Mx.” used for the first time. Mx. is the gender-neutral form of Mr./Mrs./Ms. I am sound oriented. I have seen Mx. used in writing in various queer safe spaces on the internet, but hearing turned it into something real for me. I have a PhD, but being called Doctor Mikles never did anything for me. I know other people feel euphoric about the achievement when they hear it. I’ve read that when some women get married and they hear themselves called Mrs. Husband’s Name, they get euphoric. In my case, Mx. is the salutation that stirs emotion. It makes me happy to hear it spoken out loud. And so I decided all the adults in the story would use it by default. 

It wasn’t until I finished my first draft and started editing that I realized Amber might be agender. There’s a discussion about how people choose pronouns in her world, and she mentions that she wished she’d stayed neutral. Her realization, and the fact that she’s very much a picture of me, helped me realize that I am agender. Over the years, I had started to assume that my lack of attachment to my gender was related to my asexuality, but in the last year, I’ve started being able to acknowledge it as a separate, but important part of my identity. 

While this book was intended to be a stand-alone, I've started percolating ideas for a sequel, and in it, I hope to explore more of Amber's desire to shed her gender.