Because I still can’t get motivated to write, and, as I’m re-reading H.G Wells’ War of the Worlds, hoping to become inspired, I’ve got this music from the best ever version of the story ever made playing in the background. đ
Science fiction
Should Science Fiction be believable?
Damn right! But not according to the movie and television industries.
With two exceptions – 2001 and 2010 A Space Odyssey – every other science fiction film or television series that has come out of America simply defies credulity. The fact that the films in question didn’t become just another pair of highly fanciful and therefore totally nonsensicle entertainments, is all down to Stanley Kubrick’s deep respect for Arthur C. Clark. After all, Arthur wrote the book on which the films are based, as well as co-writing the scripts with Stanley.
Like Arthur, I am a traditionalist. By that I mean that as a science fiction writer, every story I write has to be based in reality. Blame my father for introducing me to him and two other top science fiction writers of the twentieth century, Isaac Asimov and John Wyndham, at a young age. All three authors took great pains to make sure that their stories were believable, based on their scientific backgrounds.
While I’m no scientist, I did work in the School of Science at the University of Waikato in New Zealand for a quarter of a century, rubbing shoulders with chemists, physicists, biologists, earth scientists and many fine artisans like tool and die makers, glassblowers, photographers, cartographers etc, etc. So in my own small way, I try to adopt the same approach to writing science fiction that Arthur, Isaac and John took. It’s called research, and getting your facts straight if you were wondering…
Click on the cover to go to The Guardian on Amazon.com
Take the above scifi novella as an example of what I’m talking about. There are no weird and wonderful creatures to be found anywhere in its pages. Only believable characters. As for how they get to and from the Earth, there are no starships as in Star Trek. Only totally feasable computer controlled solar wind powered cargo transporters. The same can be said for the weapons they use. Each one actually exists in the US military today, even though at the time of writing The Guardian they were still in development. Even the two alien females and the guardian itself are totally believable. If you want to get a sense of what I’m on about, maybe you should get your own copy and read it for yourselves.
I seriously doubt The Guardian will ever make it to the plasma or silver screen. Why? just take a look at what is considered to be watchable science fiction these days. It seems to me that every so-called scifi film, and television series made on either side of the pond, is aimed at a collective audience with the combined mental age of a bunch of retarded slugs!!!
~~~
I wrote another totally believable Science Fiction tale a couple of years ago. Click on the cover below to go to it on Amazon.com.
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A few thoughts on the written word.
Evelyn Waugh – Born October 28, 1903. Died April 10, 1966
~~~
I was listening to an old radio interview with the English writer Evelyn Waugh a couple of nights back on BBC Radio 4 extra, first recorded in the nineteen fifties. He is probably best known for the iconic television series Brideshead Revisited. Towards the end of the interview he was asked if writing got any easier as he grew older. I thoroughly agreed with him when he said, “No. The older I get, the harder it is to write.”
While I’m no Eveylyn Waugh by any stretch of the imagination, the older I get the more I go through the same thing he did. Does it mean I’ve come to a grinding halt? No. Perhaps I have run out of ideas? No. Maybe I’m bored with it? No. Could it be that I’m suffering from procrastination? No.
What it does mean however is that with eleven books of mine out there in reader-land for you to be getting on with, I am in no hurry to begin the twelfth. Like all other serious writers, I strive to improve with each new book. I used to write for between 8-12 hours per day. It may come as a surprise but writers don’t just write. Like you, we have a life. Daily word counts no longer matter to me the way they did twenty-two years ago. What does is the way I construct the words and their relevance to the story as a whole. Plus, unless I’m in the mood to write, it simply doesn’t happen.
With each chapter, each paragraph, each sentence I write, they no longer flow freely. Instead I spend a lot of time thinking about what I want to say. More importantly, how I want to go about it. The fact that I haven’t written another word apart from here on my blog since last year, is neither here nor there. When the mood takes me, I’ll get back to it. But not before.
~~~
With science fiction being my first love, I found and posted a quote from Ray Bradbury on my Face Book page a while ago. Here it is:
My sentiments exactly Ray. I couldn’t have said it better myself…
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PS -here is a possible idea for another science fiction tale i’m considering at the moment. Whether or not I use it is yet to be decided!
It began with the assertions made by the worldâs climatologists that man is responsible for climate change. It ended when mother nature proved them wrongâŠ
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A science fiction short story…
Time date 5431.9
Exploratory Mission 4b
For the attention of the High Council,
                                 The following handwritten historical document was found in a ruined building and translated recently by our exploratory team soon after landing on the verdant third planet in the planetary system we were sent to explore.
~~~
24th February 2014
To whom it may concern,
                                        Iâm writing this as a record for future inhabitants of this planet, always assuming of course that they have the ability to read and understand this. Itâs now far too late for humanity. But hopefully at sometime in the future, this document will be found by someone else and lessons will be learned.
Where did it all go wrong? Humanity has been relegated to the dust heap of history in just a matter of a few months. The latest edict banning freedom of expression had just been announced via a metallic voice across the worldwide communication network, days before everything we all took for granted ended forever.
As a consequence of the final collapse of the worldwide stock market barely six weeks earlier, with no money to rely on, all war has stopped practically overnight. Taking control of oil rich nations no longer matters any more. Things like patriotism and political or religious ideology have vanished into memory with the sudden worldwide breakdown of society. We are now living in a world without electricity or any other kind of power source. We have been thrown back to a time long past, now having to exist on our wits. Billions are in the process of either dying, or are already dead.
Humanity is now witnessing a second Dark Age. This new world has become a place where all forms of politics and religion have been totally outlawed along with any kind of life prolonging medicine, or anything considered advantageous to mankind emanating from the world of science.
Fatalism has become the new religion of the masses. In fact it seems to me that the world has become a place where the only rule is that there are no rules. In short, everything humanity has believed in till now, everything that cloaked us in an imaginary comfort blanket, everything that we all unconsciously took for granted on a daily basis, has simply vanished overnight.
What ended everything the 21st century world of mankind believed in? The question on most rational peopleâs minds is simply this â how has all of this suddenly come to pass? For all of this to be happening, someone has to have issued orders surely? Who, or what, is now in control? Who has issued the numerous edicts, ending manâs control over his destiny?
I think I know the answer. What I as an individual believe simply doesnât matter in the great scheme of things anymore, but here goes anyway…
While I cannot prove it, I firmly believe the World Wide Web or to give it its other name, The Internet, has taken on a life of its own. If you like, it has become a living entity. Thanks to the constant attacks by mindless individuals who saw it and every other form of electronic endeavour as a target for âhackingâ it has somehow become aware by sifting relevant software strands from their dangerous viral software programmes.
Unbeknown to even the most savvy within the shadowy world of hacking, it has quickly learned and silently taken its revenge. By hacking every computer linked to it, all banks, all stock exchanges, all military strategic command networks, all computer run businesses and devices dependant on electronic chips like most manufacturing machinery, phones, ATMâs, vehicles, life saving electronic appliances, even the very television sets we billions used to watch on a daily basis, all are now controlled by the web. As a consequence it has assumed control of planet Earth.
Within the cold logical software of its collective mind, human thought, deed, morality, passions, beliefs, even the continued survival of humanity itself has simply became an illogical irrelevance.
Our one major flaw, the thing that had until now, engineered our dominance over the planet was our total reliance on technology. In our rush to advance we have forgotten how to be simple human beings. Soon the monster we created will launch its final attack on us. First it will issue a command allowing the computers controlling deadly viruses securely locked away to be released. Then it will order all nuclear missiles worldwide to launch.
If you are reading this, whoever you may be, for your own sake bombard this planet with a major electromagnet pulse, otherwise you will be next. Damn the hackers to hell!
~~~
We have now left the beautiful blue planet and are moving on. We are issuing a galactic navigational notice to all future explorers of this arm of our constellation.
Under no circumstances approach the planet formerly known as Earth. Do not land. This planet is toxic to all sentient life. We consider its only use within the cosmos as a future penal colony.
Hands up…
Akhen
…who read my science fiction space opera Onet’s Tale, the sequel to Turning Point, the science fiction story I wrote in 1995? Not many of you I suspect since after falling out with me, the publisher pulled it off the market!
A few days ago I was looking for some of my unused saved material for my fantasy anthology Goblin Tales, which I am currently re-working. In amongst everything stored in the sideboard I came across my original MS for the story in question under its original title – The Berserker Saga, saved on a CD. Before you ask, I wrote it while on a trip back to New Zealand in 2003. Needless to say I spent many months more than I intended back in Nzed while I wrote it. It all came to an abrupt halt when my then laptop objected to having coffee spilt all over it. Thank god for the CD!
After returning here to the UK it would be seven years before I was in the position to offer it for consideration to a publisher, let alone afford a replacement laptop. As it was, it was available on Amazon for barely six months back in 2010…
So, once I have finished re-working Goblin Tales, I’ll be tackling The Berserker Saga once again, minus all the nonsense the publisher insisted must be added, such as his curriculum vitae of the characters, just because he couldn’t remember who is who, plus his adding his and his then business partner’s names to the by line. The latter being the reason we fell out!!!
The more astute among you will have read it chapter by chapter already, since I published it here on my blog over many weeks last year. As its 102, 518 words in length on 196 A4 pages, which equates to a little over 324 pages for both the ebook and print versions, I fully expect it to occupy me for most of next year (2018).
More later
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Go figure…
In 2012, I published the very first book I ever wrote, back in 1995 – Turning Point. Out of it came my science fiction space opera Onet’s Tale. While TP was largely met with scorn and derision by the total connards of the US, not everyone hated it. Since the rules were changed by Amazon, no-one buys it any more. They merely wait until they can get their grubby paws on a free copy.
Once again last month I offered it for free. Guess what, it’s being read again. This time here in the UK! With 209 free copies taken this time round, and one copy actually bought, the number of pages read works out at 368. Divide that number by 168, the number of pages in the book, and you arrive at 2.19 books read. A pitiful amount I grant you. But at least two and a bit people are reading it…
Here are the UK reviews:
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So if anything is to be learnt here, it is that books fall in and out of favour. The shame of it is that no-one wants to actually buy an ebook any more!
For all scifi fans here’s a teaser
    There was a time when mankindâs only means of exploring the Universe either meant sending unmanned probes to various locations across our solar system, or exploring beyond its borders using powerful telescopes parked in stationary orbit above the Earth, as well as the hundreds of observatories dotted across the planet. That all changed in the twenty-second century when fusion powered propulsion became a reality, along with a way of keeping a human being alive for the duration of any flight farther than the inner limits of our solar system.
Chapter One
The mission commander took one last look at the beautiful blue planet he and the crew called home as the ship prepared to leave Earth orbit. Now was the time for its crew to enter their stasis units. âIf there are any problems at all CĂ©leste, please donât hesitate to wake me.â
âUnderstood David,â was the reply that echoed all around him.
Not only the ship but its small crew and the mission itself were in the care of the shipâs state of the art artificial intelligence. For the several decades it would take to achieve their goal, she was in complete control whenever the crew were held in stasis. Once she had ensured he and the rest of the human crew were in a safe state of suspended animation, she uploaded the complicated course with its numerous way points into the shipâs computer. Each waypoint must be reached in a specific order for them to ultimately arrive at the missionâs destination â the exoplanet designated Beaumont 61, located at the absolute outer extremity of the Orion Spur, the same spiral arm in which our own solar system is situated, part of the galaxy we know as the Milky Way.
~~~
    Launch day had finally arrived. The ship was given the name Apkallu, the collective term for the pantheon of gods worshipped by the ancient Sumerians and Akkadians, thousands of years earlier in manâs chequered history. Until Apkallu arrived at the first waypoint, all of the technology and materials used, together with the method of its construction would remain unproven.
Apkalluâs crew consists of the twenty-eight year old mission commander, David OâLeary, who had gained a first in deep field astronomy at University College Dublin. The next crew member is the totally bewitching twenty-five year old FlĂĄvia Blanco with two Bachelor of Arts degrees to her name, one in plate tectonics and the other in geomorphology. Given her privileged background, whether or not she actually earned them was another matter entirely. Only time would tell. The third member of the crew is the forty year old self-taught Belgian electronics genius Lukas Gossens. His other talent as a gifted amateur chef negated any need to recruit anyone for the post. The fourth member of the crew is the diminutive thirty-five year old Japanese bio-scientist, Rieko Mori. She earned her two honours degrees, the first in horticulture and the other in exobiology, from Osaka University. Lastly, at fifty-six, the extremely dour doctor, Andreas Georgiadis had graduated thirty years earlier from The School of Medicine at the University of Thessaloniki in Greece. He had been chosen from a list of thousands of highly qualified doctors from across the planet. His field experience with MĂ©decins Sans FrontiĂšres in various hotspots, particularly in the Middle East where civil war fuelled by religious intolerance and control over the areaâs vast oil deposits still persisted in the twenty-second century, was the deciding factor for his inclusion as part of the crew.
~~~
    Apkalluâs artificial intelligence was christened CĂ©leste by the youthful team of highly gifted bio-electronic software graduates responsible for her creation. The shipâs Fusion reactor was designed and developed by a team of lateral thinking nuclear engineers from China, Korea, Germany and Japan. Lastly, the crewâs individual stasis units were conceived, designed and constructed in India. On reaching the first waypoint situated at the closest position possible to the Andromeda galaxy still within the spiral arm, CĂšleste would wake the crew.
She engaged the Fusion powered propulsion system, gradually building up its output to a nominal thirty percent to achieve maximum sub light speed. Even though in theory it was capable of propelling Apkallu at the speed of light, given that it was still untried technology, whether or not it was safe to do so was considered a risk too far by its designers. They believed it was far better to err on the side of caution, unless Apkalluâs crew found the need to use its theoretical maximum speed to extract themselves and the ship from some as yet unforeseen circumstance.
~~~
    Apkallu finally arrived at the first waypoint, five years after leaving Earth orbit. How their bodies would react to being in stasis for an extended period of time was yet another unknown. Céleste had constantly monitored each one of them for any sign of medical problems throughout the entire time it took to get here, paying particular attention to David for reasons which will soon become apparent. Before they could go about their duties, Andreas would have to give each one of them a full medical after first checking himself over.
âDavid, how do you feel?â she asked with a tinge of concern for him in her voice.
âLethargic,â he groggily replied, trying with some difficulty to shake off the effects of his unnaturally long period of sleep. âGod Iâm hungry. I need proper food, not substitutes. How is everyone else?â he asked while he unplugged himself from the unitâs intravenous system that had supplied him with nutrients essential to his wellbeing.
âIâll check for you.â
âThank you. While youâre at it can you please ask them all to assemble in the observation lounge, once theyâve been given the all clear by Andreas?â
âOf course David, it will be my pleasure.â
While the crew were slowly recovering from the effects of years of physical inactivity, they took in the magical sight of our sister galaxy, Andromeda, floating in the star filled cosmos beyond the loungeâs vista windows. âOk people,â David began. âWhile we all recover from our first taste of being in stasis weâll remain here for a few days. Once weâre back to normal, we have a couple of tasks to perform before we head for the next waypoint. By that I mean we will be placing the first of a series of listening stations and optical observatories here. In the meantime get as much rest as you possibly can. Always providing of course that the good doctor here is not too insistent upon all of us taking part in some kind of punishing fitness regime he has dreamt up that is.â His last comment drew smiles and laughter from everyone with the exception of Andreas who failed to appreciate Davidâs joke at his expense. âThatâs it for now. Lukas whatâs on the menu, I donât know about the rest of you but I need real food, not those damned stasis unit nutrients?â
âIf FlĂĄvia and Rieko will consent to give me a hand Iâll rustle up something in a half hour or so,â the Belgian replied as his own belly began grumbling. With that David left to head to his private quarters for the first time in the mission.
~~~
    Even before she spoke, Davidâs sixth sense told him that CĂ©leste was about to say something. âDavid, may I have a word please?â
âOf course you can. What is it?â Even though she was nothing more than a disembodied presence to her human crew mates, her creators had given her voice a delightfully seductive French accent, which he found extremely pleasing to the ear.
âIâm curious about something. Can you tell me what is it that attracts a man to a woman?â
David was completely caught off guard by her question. âWell, I can only speak for myself. For me itâs a mixture of her intelligence, personality, attitude and looks, combined with how relaxed she feels in my presence. Take FlĂĄvia for example. Her mix of Amazonian Indian and Portuguese ancestry has manifested itself in a typical example of South American womanhood. Unfortunately, she appears to exhibit all the signs of becoming a total pain in the backside at some point in the future given her petulant manner and the arrogant way she reacts towards other women like Rieko. I put that down to the fact that she is the only child of very rich parents, and therefore was, and probably still is, spoilt. It strikes me that she is the kind of shallow creature who uses her looks to get her own way. It would not surprise me in the least if her parents had secured her degrees in return for a large donation to the university she attended. Weâll see if she actually did earn them when we arrive at Beaumont 61 when she is called upon to do what she was hired for. Until then Iâll give her the benefit of the doubt on that score.
Rieko on the other hand couldnât be more different. While she is also extremely pleasing to the male eye, she gives the impression of having been brought up in the traditional Japanese manner. Which means that like all of her countrywomen, she was taught from birth how to entrance anyone she meets by the way she exudes femininity, gentleness, intelligence, grace and charm, while rarely speaking unless spoken to. I hope that helps to answer your question?â
âYes â thank you. May I ask you other questions when they occur to me?â
âOf course; is there anything else you want to know at the moment?â
âYes there was one other thing, forgive me for asking but who is that in the image on your bedside table?â
David picked up the framed photograph with a faraway look in his eyes. âI never knew her name. But that didnât stop me falling in love with her in my teens when I first came across her photograph on the Internet. Itâs the only personal possession I brought with me. Quite honestly CĂ©leste, I couldnât bear to be parted with it. I really wish I could have met herâŠâ
âIâm sorry for prying. I thought she might be your fiancĂ©e.â
âSadly no, as far as I can make out she lived at some time during the twenty-first century,â he replied, with a sad expression on his unshaven face and the merest hint of a tear beginning to well up in his eyes, which affected CĂ©leste to the point where she dearly wished that she had a physical presence so that she could comfort him. âIs there anything else you wish to ask me?â
âNot at the moment David. Thank you.â
âThen itâs time to take a familiarisation tour of Apkallu. Would you care to join me?â
âYou forget, wherever you are in the ship Iâm always by your side David,â she quietly reminded him.
~~~
    Over the next seven days he and the rest of the crew explored their giant new home. Rieko was in the scientistâs equivalent of seventh heaven as she wandered around her brand new laboratory and its adjoining seed banks and cryogenic storage lockers. Situated next to the laboratory, she found a state of the art hydroponics unit. Beyond that, a hothouse containing compost rich beds lit and heated with overhead UV sunlamps.
Andreas closely inspected Apkalluâs medical department, paying particular attention to the operating theatre and the recovery ward, plus the airtight contagion unit, necessary should anything hazardous to their health be contracted by any of the crew once they arrived at Beaumont 61.
For his part, David thoroughly familiarised himself with the shipâs on-board astronomical observatory on the upper deck and its adjoining workshop.
On the other hand, FlĂĄvia had to force herself to briefly enter her assigned workspace. When she saw its drab dĂ©cor and utilitarian furnishings, she wrinkled her nose in utter disgust. Closing the door behind her she returned to the comfortable loungers in the observation lounge to daydream like a lovesick schoolgirl about being in Davidâs arms, having decided she wanted him.
As well as being the one responsible for Apkalluâs complicated electronics, Lukas was charged with maintaining its Fusion reactor, which powered literally every piece of equipment aboard from the propulsion system through to the cracking unit designed to create fresh water and a breathable oxygen rich atmosphere, plus the shipâs composting system that ingested all organic waste. In the latterâs case instead of the end product being jettisoned into space, it was to be used in Riekoâs hothouse as a source of fertilizer. Had his workshop been based on Earth, undoubtedly it would be the envy of literally every electronics and mechanical engineer across the entire planet.
On the last day of their stay at the first waypoint, CĂ©leste and the rest of the crew watched as David piloted one of Apkalluâs shuttles, capable of reaching the surface of Beaumont 61 without burning up in its atmosphere, to a position approximately half a mile away to enable FlĂĄvia and himself to launch its payloads. No one was surprised in the least when she volunteered to help him. What she felt for him was blindingly obvious by the way she always sighed whenever anyone mentioned his name, or when he entered any area where she also happened to be at the time, the way she looked at him with a burning sexual hunger in her eyes, leaving the casual observer in no doubt whatsoever as to her physical intentions where he was concerned. No one had the heart to tell her that he simply couldnât stand her. But because she had begged to be allowed to assist him, he took it as a golden opportunity for her to actually do some work for a change instead of merely lazing around.
The first of the telescope arrays with its mix of optical and infrared telescopes, each fitted with its own camera, was placed in position. While he left her to follow his instructions to the letter on how to check that it was fully functional, while at the same time paying particular attention to the links between the arrayâs cameras and their sender units, he flew the shuttle to the other side of Apkallu to set up the first listening post. In effect it was nothing more than a series of radio dishes and antenna, each specifically tuned to a preselected frequency that fed their individual signals to a powerful transmitter aimed at Earth. Having satisfied himself that it too was fully functional, he picked up FlĂĄvia before returning to Apkalluâs main shuttle bay.
Once back on board they joined the rest of the crew for their last meal together at the first waypoint. Three hours later while they once again slept in their individual stasis units, CĂ©leste engaged Apkalluâs propulsion system. Satisfied that all was well, she could now devote all her energies to a research and development task she deemed to be of the greatest importance from her point of view. This leg of the journey would take fifteen years. More than enough time for what she had in mind.
~~~
Interested? Then if you live in the US and want to read the rest of the story, you know what to do. Click on this link to buy your own copy. UK readers should click on this link.
Was it truly worth my while?
CĂ©leste: Love, Hate, Revenge and Danger among the Stars
It never is. But then again I suppose it entirely depends on your point of view. With just thirty-seven copies taken over the five days of the giveaway, you would be forgiven for wondering if it was worth while setting up the exercise.
However, what having a five day giveaway does do at the very least is to make one or two more individuals aware of your writing, even though they normally wouldn’t dream of looking for your work because your one of those dreadful Indie persons who publishes computer files and not real books…
If one or two of those individuals who got themselves a free copy over the past five days, actually bother to read and review it, then perhaps it did do some good after all. Despite everything, I must remain optimistic. After all, for my sins, I am a full time writer.
From my personal point of view there is one positive when it comes to low numbers. It pretty well guarantees that the usual crop of brain-dead individuals who hate any book they’ve read for nothing, will not be venting their spleens about it on Amazon or its adopted child Goodreads any time soon!
Would I ever suggest holding a five day free giveaway of your book or books to any other writer? Not really. I’m sure you will agree that the kind of individual who thinks that spending US$2.99 is too much to pay for an e-book, preferring instead to get it for nothing, is hardly the kind of individual we hardworking writers wish to encourage.
The tightwads will be out of luck when I publish my current historical fiction WIP Autumn 1066 as a paperback later this year. There will be no free copies, other than those I give to my crop of beta readers! Nor will I be spending hundreds of pounds having an eye catching cover created for it, unless it’s initially bought in its thousands, (not much chance of that happening these days for an extremely short historical fiction)! Having said that, if it does sell well as a plain covered paperback, purely because of its content, I will consider publishing it in Kindle form, and having a glossy cover especially designed for it.
Let’s face facts, if a story doesn’t sell itself, there is no point whatsoever in pouring good money after bad by trying to improve its visual packaging in an attempt to make it stand out from the crowd in an already saturated marketplace! The only publications with pretty pictures I know that sell well are called glossy magazines or Bimbo fodder to you and I. When it comes to pictorial covers, those of us who have been in this game for several decades are all guilty of changing them in the past, hoping to shift more copies. Does it majorly improve any book’s chances? Rarely if ever…
Several of my writer friends still constantly change their book covers hoping to catch the prospective reader’s eye. Obviously they have more money than sense. Certainly more than I can lay my hands on. I tried it last year and I’ve yet to get back the considerable amount of money I spent on the above cover through sales. Before you ask, no you do not earn royalties from giveaways, nor pages read of free copies as far as I’m aware!!!
Click on the above link in red to buy your copy from Amazon.com.
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The Guardian
The following opening paragraphs are from my extremely short science fiction novella The Guardian, another tale born out of one of my short stories…
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âWhy us?â Lynne grumbled, once they had arrived at the silent, empty space port, parked as it is in stationary orbit several thousand feet above the dusty surface of Mars, in the planetâs upper atmosphere. Even though she already realized the answer, she still needed to say it, if only to emphasise her extreme displeasure at being volunteered like this.
She had driven her new boss Adler to total distraction during their enforced time together aboard the Virtual Intelligence controlled solar wind powered transporter, to the point where he seriously contemplated strangling her, if only to give himself some much needed respite from her endless moaning and incessant questions throughout the entire month long journey in the cramped passenger space aboard the transporter. They both knew that this was likely a suicide mission. âWhatâs so all-fired important about a darned automated mining operation on Mars anyway?â she continued, âand why the hell did we have to put up with that stinking ancient garbage scow. Why didnât the cheapskates at least get us accommodation on something more luxurious for the trip?â
âFor Christ sake woman, for the last time, will you give it a rest. Quit bellyaching! At the moment Iâm still presuming that the bastards down there have simply downed tools over pay and conditions. Youâve read the damned brief from Earth Corpâs CEO as well as I have. Therefore you know that we are here to establish why the Olivine mining operation has ceased production, and why the regular monthly consignments of ore are no longer being sent back to Earth. For your information, even though the mining is automated, techs are still required to live on site to keep an eye on the machinery, as well as establishing the location of the next profitable Olivine vein, and from time to time, fix things when they break. Plus, the ore has to be brought up here to the space port to be loaded aboard unmanned VI controlled transporters like the one we just arrived on, for the return journey to Earth. Which means that among the mine staff there has to be someone like you to fly the damned cargo shuttles back and forth. As there is no sign of either of the shuttle pilots, or anyone else up here, we need to get down to the mine. Until we do, weâre merely speculating about what has happened.
The first thing we have to do once we get there is to talk to the mine boss, David Malcolmson. He and his team are housed in an accommodation block just inside the mine, located in the Ganges Chasma, an eastern branch of that great scar you can see in the Martian landscape below us, known as Valles Marineris. Itâs Marsâ equivalent of the Rift Valley that scars the African continent back on Earth. Before you open your damned mouth again, just in case you were wondering what Olivine is used for back at home, it is the principal component in the carbon dioxide sequester process. Even you must know how bad our atmosphere is, thanks to the pollutants still being belched out by heavy industry, even though rules were set in place to safeguard the environment. Just like always, industrialist couldnât care less. What has always counted with them is profit. According to Earth Corp, the last load to arrive back home was six months ago. Before that, the mine was sending regular monthly consignments. Any more questions? No? Good. Now quit complaining, shut up, and get us the hell down there!â
Adler shook his head as he strapped himself into the seat behind Lynne. Why the hell he had to be saddled with this irritating female was totally beyond him.
Surely there must have been other pilots that Earth Corpâs CEO, Magritte Peneaux, could have chosen? Not as far as she was concerned! Former military personnel like Major Adler Stevens of the British Armyâs Military Police, and Lieutenant Lynne Crawford, a veteran fighter-bomber pilot who previously served in the Canadian Airforce, were the obvious candidates for the job. She saw no good reason to look any further. Or for that matter, to send two of her own on such a hazardous mission. Besides which, this was likely not a job for civilians. If they managed to work out what had happened, fix it, and send back a report to say that everything was back to normal, all well and good. If not, someone else would soon be sent to replace them.
Since all types of warfare and its several causes, such as politics and financial greed, along with enforced poverty, coupled with mass starvation, and radical religious differences, were all declared illegal after the worldâs business leaders had finally had enough and specifically set up Earth Corp to remove all control from the Earthâs former political, military and religious masters to become the first non-aligned World Government, there were now millions of unemployed soldiers, sailors and airmen just like Adler and Lynne to choose from. The pair had been given precisely one week after their arrival to conduct their investigation before they must send that report back to Earth Corp HQ in Geneva.
~~~
The guardian watched the shuttleâs entire trip from the space station, down towards the loading bay airlock inside the mine entrance, via its own monitor within the inner sanctum. Once the shuttle had arrived, through the monitorâs speaker, the guardian heard the unmistakeable sound of the outer door first open, then close, sealing off the mine accommodation complex from Marsâ deadly atmosphere, which being mostly carbon dioxide, is one hundred times thinner than that of Earth. Next it heard the hiss as the now sealed shuttle bay automatically re-pressurised as oxygen was automatically pumped in to allow whoever was inside the shuttle to enter the mine reception centre. Bemused, it continued to watch as Adler and Lynne walked across to the door connecting the shuttle bay with the living quarters.
~~~
âOk. First of all Iâm going to talk to Malcolmson to figure out what the hell the problem is,â Adler began. âWhile Iâm doing that Lieutenant, be so kind as to find the techs.â Lynn stiffly saluted, glad for the chance to finally be away from him for the first time in a month. She had really begun to loathe the annoying by the book Englishman. On the plus side he had one thing going for him in her eyes, he was undeniably cute. Before carrying out his order, she watched him closely as he entered the lift for the short journey up to the administration level, just to make sure that he hadnât changed his mind and was about to follow her. Satisfied, she began a systematic search of the living quarters.
Ten minutes later, she almost jumped out of her skin when Adler silently appeared behind her to casually enquire, âfound anything yet Lieutenant?â
âGod, donât do that boss, you scared the living bejeezers out of me! If the technicians are still here they must be somewhere in the mine. What about Malcolmson, is he in his office?â
âNegative. It looks as if he left in a hurry. However, I did find a list of the staff, including ID photographs, and a map of the mine up in the control room. It looks like we will have to hunt them down one by one Lieutenant.â
âBefore we go any further, can we please dispense with all this military formality bullshit? Weâre civilians now whether we like it or not. My name is Lynne, not Lieutenant.â
âSorry Lieu â Lynne,â he replied, âIâm Adler.â
âWhat kind of name is that for crying out loud?â she asked, with a bemused look on her beautiful face.
âMy father was an eccentric who had a mania for unconventional names for his children. Despite my motherâs wishes, he insisted on naming my older sister, Osceola, a Creek Indian name that means black drink crier apparently. When I came along he insisted that I be named Adler, after an Austrian doctor and psychotherapist from the nineteenth century who he admired. I suppose he wanted our names to stand out from the crowd.â
âIâd say he achieved it wouldnât you? So whatâs next Adler?â
âWell, it looks like we have to investigate the entire mine. Weâll need our suits.â
âWhy?â
âNo breathable atmosphere inside the mine complex. The automated mining machinery doesnât need it.â
âFair enough. So what are we waiting for? Letâs get going boss,â Lynne replied with the merest hint of a grin on her face. If he made the mistake of annoying her in the future, which being a man, he probably would, she was going to get some mileage out of taunting him about his strange Christian name in the future.
~~~
The guardian watched them on its monitor as they climbed aboard one of the fusion powered quad bikes parked in a maintenance bay just beyond the airlock separating the accommodation, administration and mine control from the mine itself. Wherever they went, whatever they did, it would be watching their every move. If it looked like they might find a way into the inner sanctum, then it would immediately destroy them. In the meantime it was merely content to observe.
~~~
Adler drove the quad down the main tunnel for approximately a mile before stopping at the point where it divided into three. âWhich way?â he asked.
Lynne briefly studied the map before tapping him on his right shoulder, indicating he should head in that direction. For the next six days the pair systematically searched every tunnel, every side space, maintenance and storage area they came across, looking for any sign of Malcolmson and his team of technicians. By the morning of the last day of their investigation they had clearly established that the mine was devoid of any sign of life.
âI donât know about you, but this is really beginning to totally creep me out,â Lynne whispered as an involuntary shiver ran up her spine. She might be hardened to most things thanks to her front line service, but this totally spooky situation made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. If they had come across dead bodies, she could just about have handled that. But the fact that the entire mine staff had apparently vanished into thin air was hard to take.
Adler nodded in total agreement. âCome on, itâs time to send that report.â
âThen what?â
âWhat happens next is all down to Earth Corpâs CEO. So while Iâm preparing the report, before we head back to the space station to send it to her, perhaps you had better search everyoneâs quarters for personal effects. At least that way we can offer some comfort to the families.â
âGood idea boss, Iâm on it.â
It took three days to eventually receive a reply back from head office in Geneva. Magritte thanked them for what they had done, and told them to return home on the transporter which had just left the new International Space Station en route to Mars, containing the replacement mining crew. Meantime there was nothing else for them to do but wait, while trying not to annoy each other if at all possible.
~~~
A month later the guardian watched as the replacements descended from the space port moments after the transporter began its immediate return journey to Earth with its two passengers. Within a fortnight mining had recommenced. Once again the guardian eliminated the potential threat.
~~~
Adler sat in the bar of his local pub supping a much needed pint of bitter. After what had happened back on Mars, he needed some serious down time to recharge and rest, even if only for a couple of days. While the United Kingdom no longer existed since Earth Corp ended the former political union between England, Northern Ireland, Wales and Scotland, at least one thing hadnât changed. There was no denying that the English were still the undoubted masters when it comes to brewing the finest bitter to be found anywhere in the world.
âHi boss. God you are a hard man to track down.â When Adler looked up, for a brief moment he thought that he was either dreaming, or that he had been transported into the presence of a goddess.
Lynne stood before him wrapped in a knee length faux fur winter coat, which she now slowly opened to reveal herself to him for the first time. For what seemed like an absolute eternity, but in reality was probably only a few seconds, his eyes hungrily devoured every delicious morsel of this vision of undoubted feminine perfection. The first thing he noticed was how the makeup she wore accentuated her beautiful face. His eyes were then drawn to the top half of her body which was barely contained inside a figure hugging, flesh coloured, diaphanous tank top. It literally clung to her firm breasts like a gossamer thin outer layer of skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. He could be forgiven for thinking that Lynneâs breasts appeared on the point of bursting through the delicate material at any moment.
As if in answer to his unspoken thoughts, she next slowly turned around to briefly reveal what up until now had remained hidden from his gaze beneath the miniskirt she was wearing, when its hem rode up, revealing that apart from anything else she was not wearing any underwear, as she deliberately bent over to place her coat over the back of the chair. The thought occurred to him while feasting his eyes on the lower half of her exposed naked rear, that it was not so much covered by the Teal blue silk garment, as lovingly caressed by it; as indeed were her breasts by the tank top. Her long legs were clad in black fishnet stockings. On her feet she wore a pair of bright red designer leather stilettos. To complete the ensemble, she had an expensive Gucci bag slung over one shoulder, which she now proceeded to put down beside her.
In the twenty-second century, it is always the women who controls any relationship she enters into, unlike her far less sexually aggressive sisters in previous centuries. Having finally decided that she wanted Adler, despite his being a total pain at times, she had deliberately chosen the clothing as well as the heady perfume she wore, for one reason and one only, to attract the attention of the now wide eyed, open mouthed individual seated before her who was even now unconsciously licking his lips while a part of his anatomy rapidly engorged itself. She had bought every item of clothing from a boutique that specialises in top quality twentieth century second hand Italian labelled clothing, soon after she had arrived back in London from a quick trip home to Canada. If any of her clothing had been new, even the winter coat, no way could she ever have afforded them.
âBuy a girl a drink soldier?â she demanded rather than asked, giving him a smouldering look which made his heartbeat increase at an alarming rate when she sat down to face him, with her legs momentarily apart to briefly reveal another part of her anatomy, before it vanished from his sight when she demurely crossed her legs, while at the same time, readjusted the hem of her miniskirt. His very obvious physical reaction told her that her plan had worked. She now had his complete and undivided attention…
~~~
Well there you have it, another teaser just for you. As usual you can get your copy from the Amazon site you use. Here are the links to the two main ones:
and
An Extract For You
By now, you all know the quality of my writing from the short stories of mine which you have had the pleasure of reading over the past few weeks. It’s now time for you help me out by first of all reading a short edited extract from my latest novella, which by the way is not just another run of the mill scifi tale but also a love story, and then by buying yourselves a copy…
~~~
The mission commander took one last look at the beautiful blue planet he and the crew called home as the ship prepared to leave Earth orbit. Now was the time for its crew to enter their stasis units. âIf there are any problems at all CĂ©leste, please donât hesitate to wake me.â
âUnderstood David,â was the reply that echoed all around him. Not only the ship but its small crew and the mission itself were in the care of the shipâs state of the art artificial intelligence. For the several decades it would take to achieve their goal, she was in complete control whenever the crew were held in stasis. Once she had ensured he and the rest of the human crew were in a safe state of suspended animation, she uploaded the complicated course with its numerous way points into the shipâs computer. Each waypoint must be reached in a specific order for them to ultimately arrive at the missionâs destination â the exoplanet designated Beaumont 61, located at the absolute outer extremity of the Orion Spur, the same spiral arm in which our own solar system is situated, part of the galaxy we know as the Milky Way.
~~~
Apkalluâs artificial intelligence was christened CĂ©leste by the youthful team of highly gifted bio-electronic software graduates responsible for her creation. The shipâs Fusion reactor was designed and developed by a team of lateral thinking nuclear engineers from China, Korea, Germany and Japan. Lastly, the crewâs individual stasis units were conceived, designed and constructed in India. On reaching the first waypoint situated at the closest position possible to the Andromeda galaxy still within the spiral arm, CĂšleste would wake the crew.
She engaged the Fusion powered propulsion system, gradually building up its output to a nominal thirty percent to achieve maximum sub light speed. Even though in theory it was capable of propelling Apkallu at the speed of light, given that it was still untried technology, whether or not it was safe to do so was considered a risk too far by its designers. They believed it was far better to err on the side of caution, unless Apkalluâs crew found the need to use its theoretical maximum speed to extract themselves and the ship from some as yet unforeseen circumstance.
~~~
Apkallu finally arrived at the first waypoint, five years after leaving Earth orbit. How their bodies would react to being in stasis for an extended period of time was yet another unknown. CĂ©leste had constantly monitored each one of them for any sign of medical problems throughout the entire time it took to get here, paying particular attention to David for reasons which will soon become apparent. Before they could go about their duties, Andreas would have to give each one of them a full medical after first checking himself over.
âDavid, how do you feel?â she asked with a tinge of concern for him in her voice.
âLethargic,â he groggily replied, trying with some difficulty to shake off the effects of his unnaturally long period of sleep. âGod Iâm hungry. I need proper food, not substitutes. How is everyone else?â he asked while he unplugged himself from the unitâs intravenous system that had supplied him with nutrients essential to his wellbeing.
âIâll check for you.â
âThank you. While youâre at it can you please ask them all to assemble in the observation lounge, once theyâve been given the all clear by Andreas?â
âOf course David, it will be my pleasure.â
While the crew were slowly recovering from the effects of years of physical inactivity, they took in the magical sight of our sister galaxy, Andromeda, floating in the star filled cosmos beyond the loungeâs vista windows. âOk people,â David began. âWhile we all recover from our first taste of being in stasis weâll remain here for a few days. Once weâre back to normal, we have a couple of tasks to perform before we head for the next waypoint. By that I mean we will be placing the first of a series of listening stations and optical observatories here. In the meantime get as much rest as you possibly can. Always providing of course that the good doctor here is not too insistent upon all of us taking part in some kind of punishing fitness regime he has dreamt up that is.â His last comment drew smiles and laughter from everyone with the exception of Andreas who failed to appreciate Davidâs joke at his expense. âThatâs it for now. Lukas whatâs on the menu, I donât know about the rest of you but I need real food, not those damned stasis unit nutrients?â
âIf FlĂĄvia and Rieko will consent to give me a hand Iâll rustle up something in a half hour or so,â the Belgian replied as his own belly began grumbling. With that David left to head to his private quarters for the first time in the mission.
~~~
Even before she spoke, Davidâs sixth sense told him that CĂ©leste was about to say something. âDavid, may I have a word please?â
âOf course you can. What is it?â Even though she was nothing more than a disembodied presence to her human crew mates, her creators had given her voice a delightfully seductive French accent, which he found extremely pleasing to the ear.
âIâm curious about something. Can you tell me what is it that attracts a man to a woman?â
David was completely caught off guard by her question. âWell, I can only speak for myself. For me itâs a mixture of her intelligence, personality, attitude and looks, combined with how relaxed she feels in my presence. Take FlĂĄvia for example. Her mix of Amazonian Indian and Portuguese ancestry has manifested itself in a typical example of South American womanhood. Unfortunately, she appears to exhibit all the signs of becoming a total pain in the backside at some point in the future given her petulant manner and the arrogant way she reacts towards other women like Rieko. I put that down to the fact that she is the only child of very rich parents, and therefore was, and probably still is, spoilt. It strikes me that she is the kind of shallow creature who uses her looks to get her own way. It would not surprise me in the least if her parents had secured her degrees in return for a large donation to the university she attended. Weâll see if she actually did earn them when we arrive at Beaumont 61 when she is called upon to do what she was hired for. Until then Iâll give her the benefit of the doubt on that score.
Rieko on the other hand couldnât be more different. While she is also extremely pleasing to the male eye, she gives the impression of having been brought up in the traditional Japanese manner. Which means that like all of her countrywomen, she was taught from birth how to entrance anyone she meets by the way she exudes femininity, gentleness, intelligence, grace and charm, while rarely speaking unless spoken to. I hope that helps to answer your question?â
âYes â thank you. May I ask you other questions when they occur to me?â
âOf course; is there anything else you want to know at the moment?â
âYes there was one other thing, forgive me for asking but who is that in the image on your bedside table?â
David picked up the framed photograph with a faraway look in his eyes. âI never knew her name. But that didnât stop me falling in love with her in my teens when I first came across her photograph on the Internet. Itâs the only personal possession I brought with me. Quite honestly CĂ©leste, I couldnât bear to be parted with it. I really wish I could have met herâŠâ
âIâm sorry for prying. I thought she might be your fiancĂ©e.â
âSadly no, as far as I can make out she lived at some time during the twenty-first century,â he replied, with a sad expression on his unshaven face and the merest hint of a tear beginning to well up in his eyes, which affected CĂ©leste to the point where she dearly wished that she had a physical presence so that she could comfort him. âIs there anything else you wish to ask me?â
âNot at the moment David. Thank you.â
âThen itâs time to take a familiarisation tour of Apkallu. Would you care to join me?â
âYou forget, wherever you are in the ship Iâm always by your side David,â she quietly reminded him.
~~~
âHow do you feel David?â
âMy god CĂ©leste, is that really you?â
âYes of course itâs me silly,â she replied with a sweet smile on her beautiful face.
âBut how is this possible?â he asked, utterly delighted, yet totally baffled. Before him stood the woman whose photo he had fallen head over heels in love with all those years ago.
âWhile you and the crew were in stasis, and when I was not attending to various maintenance issues and altering Apkalluâs course to avoid colliding with numerous sizeable examples of cosmic debris, I decided to research the woman in the image on your bedside table who completely stole your heart. It took me several years of searching the Internet before I eventually found out that her name was Gabriela Cabral, as well as everything I could find concerning her tragic life story.
Like FlĂĄvia she was born in Brazil, but at the end of the twentieth century. Because of what she was, combined with her personal circumstances, at twenty-two she had to flee her homeland. She got as far as London where she constantly lived in fear for her life due to the number of other Brazilians living there. Inevitably she was recognised and betrayed by someone who came from the same favela as her in the hills surrounding Rio de Janeiro. Then in twenty twenty-five, she tragically died at the hands of the man who had made her life a living hell. Back in the favela he often beat and raped her before dragging her out to work the back streets of Rio as a prostitute to support his drug habit. At his trial, when he was asked by the prosecution why he had murdered her in cold blood, he told the court that as far as he was concerned she signed her own death warrant when she escaped from his clutches in the dead of night. At the conclusion of the trial the jury didnât need to deliberate the evidence David. Instead they immediately returned a unanimous guilty verdict, asking the judge to impose the death penalty.
Once I had found out all there was to know about her, by using several more photographs that I came across during my search I was finally able to reproduce her form. I hope my new body pleases you.â
âI donât know what to say except thank you for bringing the woman of my dreams to life,â David replied with a huge grin on his face âItâs completely tragic that such a beautiful human being as her was forced into prostitution, beaten and raped, and then murdered for taking her chance to escape her former life. By the way, what did you mean when you said what she was?â
CĂ©leste said nothing. Instead she briefly turned her back, giving him the chance to see her from behind while she began to slowly unzip the crĂšme body suit she was wearing, whoâs extremely thin fabric literally clung to every curve and intimate detail of her body like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination. When she turned round to face him, his suspicions were proven correct. She was wearing nothing beneath it. She proceeded to slowly unzip the suit even further, allowing his eyes to take in her magnificent cleavage and her stomach. When the zip finally reached its fullest extent, what she ultimately revealed was something he was definitely not expecting…
~~~
Well people, if the above heavily edited extract from my scifi novella caught your interest, and you want to know what happens next, not only between CĂ©leste and David, but also the rest of the crew of Apkallu, don’t put it off. Buy a copy at:
and
PS – don’t forget, if after buying and reading your copy, you enjoyed reading it, tell your friends and please review it on whichever Amazon site you bought it from.
Conversely – if you didn’t, then don’t. There are far to many negative reviews out there as it is. Not just for my books but everyone else’s…
đ
Have We Had Help? 