Christopher D. Schmitz is author of both Sci-Fi/Fantasy Fiction and Nonfiction books and has been published in both traditional and independent outlets. He also dabbles with game design.

He lives in a historic mansion in the rural Midwest (a functioning B&B) with his human and furry family where he drinks unsafe amounts of coffee. In his off-time he plays haunted bagpipes in places of low repute, but that's a story for another time.

Schmitz also holds a Master's Degree and mentors other authors and freelances when he is not writing or traveling. He is available for speaking engagements, interviews, etc. via the contact form and links on his website or via social media.

​You can connect with him here.

Watch of the Starsleepers by Christopher D. Schmitz

A murder in deep space.

Five generations into their journey, and with humanity in cryosleep, a servitor clone learns a dangerous secret.

Endymion is a generation ship tended by Watchers, genetically engineered creatures with implants that prohibit specific behaviors while mankind awaits arrival at Alpha Centauri. Despite that, one of them has learned how to bypass the safety measures and commit a murder.

CURATOR'S NOTE

Watch of the Starsleepers by Christopher Schmitz explores the mystery genre in a generation ship setting, as the protagonist investigates a murder while humanity sleeps their way to Alpha Centauri. The story explores both physical space and the depths of human nature. – C. Gockel

 
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

"They killed Lenny," Dave hissed.

Barb stared at him blankly. "I don't understand why that bothers you," she said, injecting another egg with genetic material. "You know what every Watcher knows. We all have an expiration date. When the tribunal decides that…"

"No," Dave said. "This wasn't a 'forced expiration.' They murdered him."

Barb cocked her head. Murder was an archaic act that the cloned watcher race had nearly forgotten possible. Her face remained placid, though she'd also been Lenny's close friend. Watchers weren't supposed to form intimate bonds with their peers, knowing they would be culled at relatively premature ages. It was central to the watcher philosophy.

Dave sighed through his nose and let the silence envelop them. Only gently vibrations filled the air as the massive generation ship Endymion rocketed through space on its way to Alpha Centauri, Terra's closest neighbor. Technology allowed advances in space travel and the trip would take roughly one hundred and sixty years. They were currently in their eighth decade and Dave, watcher DAV-F, was the fifth iteration of the original clone, DAV-A.

Within a few days' time, a much younger LEN-F would take over Lenny's function in the fabrication shop. Dave pouted, "I'm not going to call him Lenny."

Barb raised a brow. "What will you call him, Lenph?" she annunciated.

Dave laid his head down on her workbench.

Barb reached down and squeezed his hand. "Listen, Dave. You know I love you, but these embryos aren't going to fertilize themselves. Who knows, one of these might be Len-G. Wouldn't that be ironic?"

He looked up at her. He did love Barb, but he knew she couldn't sympathize. Not really. Watchers didn't have the capacity, or so they were taught from the moment they were pulled from the incubation chambers and strapped into education implanters, a kind of mental download system that uploaded formative memories and base-level knowledge necessary to continue the role of the original genetic material.

Still, though, it felt a little comforting to hear Barb say she loved him. Watchers were allowed platonic relationships, but romantic entanglements were punished severely. A neurological device implanted at the base of the skull of each watcher mitigated sexual impulses, and provided negative correction when necessary. Dave laid his head back down on the table. He wished the device mitigated grief.

"Will there be a memorial?" Barb asked.

Dave forced himself back into an upright position. "Yes. There is always a memorial." He logged into the network and pulled up the Transition Schedule. The ship housed over twenty thousand watchers at any given time, so multiple transitions happened daily—that was when the new clone assumed the duties and life of his or her predecessor.

A thought solidified in Dave's mind: if Lenny was murdered, all evidence would disappear as soon as the F variant took over Lenny's life.

Dave stood. "I, uh, should go."

Barb shrugged, still preoccupied with her work. She still had several hours left of her shift and until then, she would remain distracted. Barb might have been warmer were it not for work—all watchers were conditioned to take their work seriously. The spinal devices, commonly called a "neuri," ensured it.

Dave and Lenny were as close as brothers, but Dave and Barb might have been more… in a world other than a cold clone ship hurtling through the void and where a death sentence hung over each creature.

He headed for the exit. It slid open as he approached.

"Hey," Barb called.

Dave turned.

"Tonight? Just you and me. We'll remember Lenny properly? We don't need some official ceremony, or to get LEN-F involved. I've just… work is important."

He nodded. Glad for the offer, and he could empathize. The neurological spine-chips often muddied thoughts of non-work-related tasks during scheduled shifts. "Tonight."