Someone just read my short story, Ink, and asked me this.
“Ink is so fully realized for so short a story. Which came first? This or the novel? Did you always know why the Admiral had a tattoo? ͏” ͏ ͏ ͏
Let’s put this into context. Ink tells the story of how Admiral Ravindra acquired his infamous tattoo. In Manesai society foot soldiers have tatts but officers don’t – especially those expected to get to senior officer ranks. The fact he has a tatt is a small but important point in my novel Morgan’s Choice when Ravindra has to prove he is who he says he is despite the fact it’s said he’s dead.
So… what came first?
Actually, what came first was another short story, Supertech.
I was writing what became The Iron Admiral at the time and got to a point where I flung the virtual manuscript at the virtual wall and said, “this is rubbish. Nobody will want to read it”. The issue was that Allysha was supposed to be able to get into computer systems through her brain but at the time it read like magic. So I created a new character, Morgan Selwood, who had been modified as a baby and had implants embedded in her brain. Real hardware, no magic, feisty, difficult, doesn’t take orders —but brilliant at what she does.
After that I wrote Morgan’s Choice, one of my first books. Morgan was going to be trapped in deepest space in a broken-down spaceship with (of all things) an accountant. Since there would be a romance arc, I needed a man who could be entirely different to Morgan but could match her. That certainly wasn’t going to be Tony Jones the accountant.
Enter Ashkar Ravindra.
He’s a very senior admiral, autocratic, despotic, admired and respected by his crews. He’s arrogant but it’s that self-assured arrogance that’s not contrived. He’s pragmatic, cunning, and will use anybody to achieve his ends. That backfires a bit when he commandeers Morgan to help him against invading aliens (you know… ‘cos he falls in love).
Ravindra meets Morgan when his flagship scoops up their little freighter. (You can read that encounter here.) He discovers that the people in the ship are remarkably similar to his own people – but a little bit different. They don’t all have dark skin and black hair. Their eyes look different. And they have brain implants. He is intrigued.
If he’d gone by the book he should have sent Morgan, Jones, and the body found in the hold, to Fleet headquarters for study. But Ravindra doesn’t do things by the book (unless it suits him). Morgan fascinates him. He uses Morgan and Jones as bait to trap an insurgent cell on his ship, then (having no further use for him) sends Jones off to HQ. But as the trap evolves he discovers by listening to tapped conversations between the conspirators that Morgan can interface with computer systems and indeed handled all systems in the little freighter. Jones claims she could run the battle cruiser on her own. He allows the escapees to steal a ship so he can see her skill at work.
Fast forward to events on a planet, where Morgan rescues Ravindra from certain death at the hands of freedom fighters/terrorists. They end up in a jungle, wet, bedraggled, muddy – but alive. They encounter a marine platoon. One marine recognises Ravindra but it’s not enough because he’s supposed to have died.
About now the author intervenes and says to Ravindra, “How are you going to prove who you are?”
And he raises an eyebrow at me and says, “I have a tattoo.”
Of course he has. It’s the sort of unconventional thing he would do. And being him it’s not going to be love hearts on his forearm.
I found out a bit more when he and Morgan reached Riverport. She’d seen his tatt before (we won’t go there) but didn’t know much about it. (Neither did I)
So she asks him.
“It’s a Vulsaur, native to the mountains near my home.”
“The tattoo is magnificent, so well done.”
He smiled, a wide grin that showed teeth. “Not too many other people think that. My mother was horrified and my father disgusted. My wife was unimpressed, too. She didn’t approve at all.”
“Why?”
“Mirka don’t have tattoos. It is considered uncouth. But I had a close relationship with a Shuba hunter on the estate. He taught me much about hunting, survival in the mountains. For them a tattoo is a rite of passage for a warrior. They honored me, an outsider.”
And there you have it. The germ of what would become Ink.
By the time I wrote Ink I understood Ravindra very well. He’s destined to be an admiral, wealthy, aristocratic, but back then he was an eighteen-year-old youth with a lot to learn. I contrived in Ink to make sure he learned some of those lessons.
One other thing. I always wanted the tattoo to be golden lines, not dark blue. Dark blue works on Caucasian skin but tends to fade into the background a bit on dark skin. In the days before Midjourney I struggled to find a decent image for a cover. This one actually worked. I’d wanted a bigger tatt – but…
Midjourney set me free. Now the vulsaur’s wings spread across his shoulders and her tail slides down into the small of his back.
Oh – and as an interesting aside, Ravindra’s late wife ran the Vulsaur Protection Society. On the side, she tried to tame a vulsaur. It killed her.
