Redshirts

Intrepid ?” the man asks.
    “Once,” Samantha says.
    “You’re not going to believe this,” the man says. “I think I played your character’s husband.”
    “I know,” Samantha says.
    “You remember?” the man asks.
    “No,” Samantha said. “But I know what her husband looks like.”
    The man holds out his hand. “I’m Nick Weinstein,” he says.
    “Hello, Nick,” Samantha says, shaking it. “I’m Samantha.”
    “It’s nice to meet you,” Nick says. “Again, I mean.”
    “Yes,” Samantha says. “Nick, I’m thinking of getting something to eat. Would you like to join me?”
    Now it’s Nick’s turn to smile. “I would like that. Yes,” he says.
    The two of them head up the beach.
    “It’s kind of a coincidence,” Nick says, after a few seconds. “The two of us being here like this.”
    Samantha smiles again and puts her arm around Nick as they walk.

Acknowledgments
    I wrote this novel in the wake of having worked on a science fiction television show, so before I do anything else, let me make the following disclaimer: Redshirts is not even remotely based on the television show Stargate: Universe . Anyone hoping this is a thinly veiled satire of that particular experience of mine is going to have to be disappointed. Indeed, I would argue that Stargate: Universe was all the things that The Chronicles of the Intrepid wasn’t—namely, smart, well-written and interested in having its science nod in the direction of plausibility.
    I was really pleased to have worked on SG:U as its creative consultant; I also had a lot of fun with it. And of course I genuinely enjoyed watching it, both as a fan of the genre and as someone who worked on it and could see where my contributions showed up on the screen. That was cool. I’ve co-dedicated this book to Brad Wright and Joe Mallozzi, the SG:U producers who brought me into the show, but I’d also like to take a moment here to bow deeply to the cast, crew, writers and staff of SG:U as well. It’s a shame it couldn’t have lasted longer, but no good thing lasts forever.
    I also wrote this novel while serving as president of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, the largest organization of SF/F writers in the world (and possibly in the entire universe, although of course there’s no way to confirm this, yet). Over the years, there’s been a bit of received wisdom that if one serves as SFWA’s president, one has to essentially lose a year of creative productivity to the gig, and possibly one’s sanity as well. I’m happy to say I have not found this to be true—and the reason it was not true in my case was that I was fortunate to have an SFWA board of directors filled with very smart, dedicated people, who worked together for its members as well as or better than any board in recent memory.
    So to Amy Sterling Casil, Jim Fiscus, Bob Howe, Lee Martindale, Bud Sparhawk, Sean Williams and in particular Mary Robinette Kowal, my sincere thanks, admiration and appreciation. It was an honor to serve with each of you. Thanks also to all those who volunteer for SFWA and make it a writers’ organization I am proud to be a part of.
    Every time I write a novel, I am amazed at how much better it is when it finally comes out in book form. It’s because so many excellent people improve it along the way. This book was helped along by Patrick Nielsen Hayden, my editor; Irene Gallo, Tor’s art director; cover artist Peter Lutjen; copyeditor Sona Vogel; text designer Heather Saunders and also production editor Rafal Gibek. Thanks are also due to Cassie Ammerman, my publicist at Tor, and of course to Tom Doherty, who continues to publish my work, for which I continue to be ridiculously pleased. Thanks are also due to my agent, Ethan Ellenberg, and to Evan Gregory, who keeps track of my foreign sales.
    Redshirts was read by a small core of first-line readers who offered invaluable feedback and assured me that the thing was something more than just a piss-take on televised science fiction (although obviously it is that too). My appreciation, then, to Regan Avery (as always), Karen Meisner, Wil Wheaton, Doselle Young, Paul Sabourin, Greg DiCostanzo and my wife, Kristine Scalzi, who also deserves thanks for putting up with me in a general sense. I’m really glad she does.
    And finally, thank you, dear reader. I’m glad you keep coming back for more. If you keep coming back, I’ll keep writing them. That’s a promise.
    John Scalzi,
    July 22,