What's the Bechdel Test? I'll let Laura explain this whole meme:
My current Work-In-Progress certainly involves female protags, but I'm on the Kindle so don't have the files handy -- you'll just have to read the YA trilogy when it sells. (evil-grin) So I'll go with a work you can read in its entirety: "End Run" published at Giganotosaurus in April 2012. It's set on a military starship and there are a number of women on the ship. Scenes with either the commanding officer, first officer or the senior NCO would be too much low hanging fruit even though they are all women -- I hope you don't regularly have Bechdel Fail conversations with these people! So this is where our protag Ensign Darlene Charles meets her roommate Lt. Kirsten Van Zoeren:
She only got lost twice on the way to her compartment and had to query the corridor screens for directions. When she got there, the doorplate read THIRD OFFICER / JUNIOR ENGINEER. Darlene didn’t mind a roommate – it was expected – and perhaps it’d make adjusting to life on the Evensong a little easier. With satisfaction, she noted the keypad responded to her standard access code, but when she reached for the hatch lever it clicked before her hand was set and locked her out. Slightly chagrined, she worked faster so the second time she pushed open the hatch with her other hand while the green light still glowed on the keypad. Apparently it wasn’t the same lock module timing she was used to.I play memes for myself. I don't usually tag others. But certainly any members of the Clarion Class of 2004 or WOTF XXIV are certainly easily challenged.
Fifteen thousand ships in Fleet, she thought, and practically all of them are different. New design, indeed.
Inside, the compartment was just as ruthlessly efficient and compact as she’d expected, so this was not really a problem. She was off in space to serve, not spend all day hanging out in a cozy compartment. But the best thing that’d happened so far this New Year’s Day 2601 was a freshly charged datapad centered on her tiny fold-down desk. It accepted her ID sliver automatically and had been configured for third officer duty.
“Yes!” she said under her breath and smiled.
“Would you watch that light?” a new voice demanded when Darlene clicked the room lights on.
“Oh sorry,” Darlene said, killing the main lights and figuring out which switch turned on the task light centered on her desk.
“You must be the new vegetable of the month,” the other person said in a voice resigned to not getting instantly back to sleep.
“New vegetable… oh, you mean I’m the new green ensign. Yessir – guilty as charged.”
A hand snaked out of the wad of bedclothes on the lower bunk. There was a distinct lumpiness to the bed, but so far Darlene hadn’t actually seen her roommate. “Lt. Kirsten Van Zoeren.” The voice spoke perfectly acceptable Interstellar English, but with a clipped, European accent Darlene didn’t know enough to place. “I’m the junior engineer on this barge. And since we’re not going anywhere at the moment, the Evil Triumvirate decided I wasn’t needed in Engineering and so was assigned a double-watch overnight on the bridge while everyone else partied.”
“Evil Triumvirate. You must be talking about our esteemed captain, first officer and chief of the boat,” Darlene said.
“Those would be the ones.”
“Ensign Darlene Charles at your service. And you do know the Evil Triumvirate, as you called them, have made me third officer?”
“Sure. That’s why you’re standing in the third officer’s stateroom. And if you were in command, on the bridge, I’d probably salute you and say yessir and aye-aye, sir. But right now I outrank you and I’m trying to get some sleep.”
“Right. Sorry. I’ve located my bunk. My space duffels have somehow magically arrived here and the seals are still valid. I can come back later and unpack.”
“That would be nice. It’s nothing personal.”
“Quite understandable under the circumstances.” Darlene removed her standard cover and found her safety hat at the top of her duffel. She should probably change, but her gray khaki skirt and jacket uniform would have to do for the moment. “I’ll just be going…”
But there was no response from the lower bunk.
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