C.M. Simpson's Blog, page 96

Carlie’s Chapter 5—Dear Tiger: I Miss You

LAST WEEK, Simone decided to open her package. This week shows what happened when she did.Chapter 5 – The Package
From: Boarder 9652—Simone MichaelsDate: Sunday, 25 August 3049
Dear Tiger
You have to know by now that I haven’t had time to either post your letter, or look inside the package. Someone set me an extra assignment to make up for the excursion I didn’t go on. Nice of them—NOT!I only dropped your letter in the mail center this morning, when I went down to breakfast. Hope it gets to you safely. I’m still grounded, but the others are off to town for the day. It’s a semi-supervised day out. Marrietta was beside herself when she worked out I couldn’t’ come. Anyway, a teacher is escorting them into town, but then leaving them to shop on their own, before meeting up at a set time and place for lunch, followed by the movies, or afternoon recreation in one of the fun parks. After that, they’ll get back on the bus, and wait for everyone to get their name ticked off on the roll, and then it’ll be back to the school caf for dinner. What a stunning end to the day.Marrietta’s been leaving me alone for most of the week, and one or two of the other girls talk to me whenever they think she’s not looking. It’s not an instant friendship, but it’s a start. Now, before the sorters get to reading my last letter… what’s inside this package?GREAT STARS AFIRE, TIGER!!!!You should see what’s inside this parcel—and, yes, I’m using speech software to write this letter, while I look.Anyway, Mum sent me these four stone jars—and they haven’t even been opened. There’s some kind of clay seal covering the seam where the lids join the rim of the jar it’s stuck to. Now, if there’s one thing I remember from what mum and dad taught me—and from last week’s lesson on handling planetary artefacts—it’s not to break any seal, until you’ve isolated the container in a properly prepared lab.All sorts of disasters happened to early exploration teams, and around seventy-five percent of them could have been avoided if the teams had been taught to handle artifacts the way they do now. Of course, the reason they handle finds like these jars the way do now is because of the disasters that have occurred before.Anyway, each jar is sealed inside its own padded clear-bag, and that’s the way they’re going to stay until I’ve had a bit of time to go over mum’s notes. You should see them, Tiges, they look like they’re made of single pieces of some kind of smooth, polished stone, and the clear-bags make it hard to read what’s been written on the outside of them.It looks like some kind of gold inlay. I don’t understand the symbols, but the style looks familiar. You’d love this, Tiger. It’s just the kind of thing that’s right up your career path. I’ll send you a vid. Just give me a sec to set up the head cam.Right. You got it? Cos here we go, again.Setting these jars aside, and moving onto the next, carefully wrapped part of the parcel, we come across—OH RAYS, I am in so much trouble!These look like the Petri dishes we’re using in science class, and the stuff growing on them is absolutely incredible. Problem is, Tiger, it’s grown so much that the bag around the Petri dish is threatening to split—and, Tiger, it’s growing in what should be a vacuum, or a severely limited air space, at best. I mean, it’s thriving, and I don’t think it should be doing that. What if it’s some kind of virus, or bacteria? Or mould?Remember Janus 7?What was mum thinking? She’s got to know about plagues, and new-colony sicknesses. What made her send this stuff to me? THESE are going straight back in the box. There are six of them—four different colours, all different shades.Wait, wait a minute. I’ll check the box before I go stuffing the growing stuff back. Don’t want to miss anything, now I’ve gone this far.Yes! There was a palm pad in there. It’s got dad’s initials on it. You know, this probably holds more notes for the Petri dishes and jars. I’ll just put it over here, and see if there’s anything else.Wow… guess what, Tiger? There’s a birthday card. They didn’t forget me after all. This was a good thing, Tiger. I should have opened it ages ago.Okay, that’s the lot. I’ll put the Petri dishes back first. I want those little suckers as far away from me as possible. Now, the jars.Ah… Tiger? This letter might take a little time to get to you. I think one of the bags might have burst. I’m not sure which one, and I’m not taking chances. I’ll just hit the emergency buzzer. There’s stuff on my fingers. Ugh, now there’s stuff on the letter… and the buzzer. Give me a minute, and I’ll wipe it off.Well, that didn’t work. I’m guessing they’ll never let me send his letter. Maybe, they’ll be kind enough to scan the start of it, and send you the voice transcript and the scans, so, if this letter looks a little funny, don’t let it bother you. The company won’t send out contaminants. You should be okay.I really should go wash my hands, but I don’t know what this stuff would do the pipes. I mean, where would it go? And how much of it am I going to spread around the rooms here, if I start wandering about?Wait! I can hear someone at the door. This is really weird, Tiges. I can hear voices, and some sort of siren. Marrietta is going to be so annoyed, when she finds out I’ve got her quarters quarantined. Because I think they’ll seal the entire building, and all her stuff is in her room.Sorry. Shouldn’t laugh. But I’m so terrified, right now.The door’s opening. Yep. It’s the men in white suits, and don’t you dare laugh at me, Tiges. We both knew they’d come for me some day. Funny thing is, Tiges, one of them looks like my mum inside the helmet, and I swear I can see dad coming in with her. Looks like I’m gonna be okay. I’ll write you when it’s all over, Tiges.
Write me back soon.

Lots of love

Simone
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The complete series is available as short, individual ebooks, and will become available as an omnibus, later this year. In the meantime, you can find them on this blog, until one week after the last chapter in the last book of the series has been posted, at which point this series will be taken down, and a new series serialised on site.
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Friday’s Flash—About Face

Last week we had a short joined-worlds fantasy. This week, it’s a very short piece of military science fiction that forms the February 8th entry in 366 Days of Flash Fiction . -----------------------------------------------------------------------------About Face
“Do you want to live forever?”If I never heard that phrase again, I would be a very happy girl. For now? For now, I shouted ‘Sir, no sir!’ with all the rest, and ran right out into the ambush. When I went down, it was under the Sarge, the machine-gunner and the comms carrier. It was a good thing the tiktaks left the dead where they lay. A good thing, and almost the end of me.By the time the rescue team arrived I was having trouble breathing; the smell of carrion surrounded me, and the weight of the dead bore down on more than my soul. They all thought I was crazy when they dug me out and I picked up the nearest rifle, sedated me before I got fully to my feet.Dayum—I wasn’t crazy; I was mad. Some dumb sonuva had dropped us right into the middle of a bunch of hostiles, who’d shot us all to shit. And I wanted to know who, and why. Fortunately, Odyssey take people like me, and then they use our interests to their best advantage. It wasn’t the tiktaks I was itching to kill, but the traitors upstairs.It was just my good luck that Odyssey needed an assassin for the very same thing.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------You can find the first two flash fiction collections at the links below, until the covers are updated. The third collection will be released later this year.

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Wednesday’s Verse—Living by the Troll Marsh

This week’s verse moves from one fantasy staple to another. It is taken from Another 365 Days of Poetry , a collection of mixed-genre poetry to be released later in the year, once both collection and cover are complete.

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Living by the Troll Marsh


I lived beside the troll marsh where the long-lived hrudda callwhere the moorhens cackle nightlywhere with silence danger falls.I lived beside the troll marshand learnt each inch of those foul fensand I grew to hunt the monstersthat within it made their dens.I lived beside the troll marshand on its shores I foughtthe foul, the bestial, and uglyfrom tiny troll to juggernautand I grew older near the troll marshand my reflexes they sloweduntil another walked the shorelineand took my duty’s loadI argued that the troll marshwas no place to raise a childand she laughed and called her younglingand my doubts I reconciledfor too long had the troll marshwithout a dragon beenbut now I’d met a hunterwho raised a dragon queenwho would give her child the troll marshas a heritage to prizefor no-one better keeps their homeland than those a dragon siresAnd I stayed there near the troll marshmy heart too full to holdthe joy of such strong companyas with day’s twilight, I grew old.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------You can find the first two poetry collections at the links below - although there are plans to reissue them with more genre-appropriate covers in the future. The third collection will be released later in the year. books2read.com/u/mVLQZb books2read.com/u/bxgyLd

Tuesday’s Short—Autumnal Threat

This week’s short story takes us from a world where magic has returned and elves and trolls are real to a distant world where colonists deal with the flora and fauna of a new world. Welcome to Autumnal Threat.

Even on a distant colony world, autumn is a time when the leaves fall, and secrets are uncovered—but can it be a time of healing and recovery, too?Autumnal Threat
The danger always came with the falling of the leaves. It came with the golden-brown crunch underfoot, and the blaze of red and orange in the trees. It came with the shift in the wind, and the fluctuating decrease in temperature. Joaquin had lived with the danger since landing. Now, it was time to teach his daughter to do the same.Together, they headed out into the trees, forsaking the safety of the homestead, but not forsaking weapons or the orsovite. Joaquin was one of the few to have adopted the native mounts. Most of the other settlers found the number of legs and the semblance to spiders too disconcerting. It was a fear Joaquin had overcome. The orsovite fed on nectar, and they had helped him find more new flowers than he would have found on his own.His wife had grown to love the orsovite, grooming the soft blue fur that covered their chests and flanks, rubbing dry patches on their chitin with shrew-pod oil, and nurturing their larvae. His Mariam had gone out last autumn, and not returned. Joaquin had never taught her of the dangers in the trees, and he had lived with that regret, ever since. He would not allow the same fate to befall his daughter.“Hurry up, Rylie,” he called, and she emerged from the greenhouse, locking the doors behind her.“Are you sure they’ll be okay?” she asked, meaning both flower and orsovite.“As long as we’re back in two nights’ time.”“But what if something happens to us?”“I’ve set the beacon, and left a message.”“All right, then, dad.” She walked over to the young orsovite she’d saddled that morning, and ran a hand across the flat of its face.The creature gently seized her hand with the cilia surrounding its mandibles and then let go.“I love you, too,” she said, laughing as she came around to its side and mounted.“You know the Billinghams think we’re crazy,” she said.“Why?”“Because we keep the orsovite.”Joaquin snorted.“They’re the crazy ones. Those horses they brought in won’t last the winter.”“They’re going to keep them in the new barn.”This time Joaquin didn’t snort. The Billinghams’ new barn had been the talk of the colony, and there were many farmers watching to see if it worked. It wasn’t that the winters were too harsh for horses, just that something burrowed up through the floor, and ate any livestock it could find. Stone flags had helped to some extent, but the beasts kept in stone-floored shelters had been too stressed by something to make it through winter without dying.The xenobiologists that examined them said it was shock, and scientific tests carried out on the barns had shown signs of burrowers coming up under the flags.“They’d have panicked,” one of the scientists had said, referring to the horses. “Night after night with nowhere to run and no way to know if the monsters under their feet were going to get through. It’s no wonder their hearts gave out.”“Is that it?” Harry Potomin had asked, devastated by the loss of his latest stud. “Shock?”The xenobiologist had spread his hand wide in a gesture of puzzlement.“It’s the best we can come up with. There are no toxins in their systems, and no injuries, save what they did to themselves trying to get away. I’d like to give you something more tangible, but it’s the only thing that seems likely. Death from prolonged stress. I’m sorry.”No one had bought any more horses after that, but at least they’d known. And then Freddy Billingham had built his barn. Plascrete floors and foundations that went down ten feet, with a basement level below where the horses were kept. Joaquin half-hoped it would work, but he thought it beyond time the others got over their fear of the orsovite.“Why don’t you think of them as big ants?” he asked.“Are you kidding? Look at the fangs on that one!”“They’re not fangs. They help the orsovite hang onto the fruit.”“Well, we don’t want them hanging onto the fruit. We want to sell the fruit.”“They eat less fruit than the fodder crop your horses take, and they give nectar.”“Next you’ll be telling us to think of them as cows with too many legs.”“Now, that’s not a bad idea,” Joaquin said, but it had been a losing battle, and he’d bowed out of the argument. Coming to accept the orsovite was something the others just had to do in their own time.“Hey, dad, are we going or not?” Rylie was staring at him, her grey-blue eyes puzzled at the delay.“Sorry, Ry. I was just thinking.”“Well, you won’t change their minds.”“Not until they see the first cheque for the nectar, anyway.”“And probably not even then. Hey, what is it you want to show me?”“Every autumn, we’re in danger,” Joaquin said, squeezing his knees against the orsovite’s sides. “And I don’t mean from the burrowers.”“Well, they only come in winter,” Rylie told him.“And they leave when all the horses are eaten.”“But they don’t come after us.”“How do you know?”“What do you mean?”“I mean our houses have always been built with a solid slab of stone or plascrete, and our hearing isn’t as sensitive as the horses’, so we might not have been able to tell.”Riley shivered.“But I always have nightmares when the snows come.”“And that’s the other thing. You always have nightmares when the snows come.”“Last year, they came early.”“And the snow followed the next day.”“Are you sure the autumn thing isn’t the same?”Joaquin glanced at her, and then at the forest edge. When he answered, his voice was completely bereft of humour.“I’m sure.”“Dad? Are you all right?”He wanted to shout that he wasn’t all right, that without his wife, nothing would be all right ever again, but it was too much to reveal, too much of a burden to lay on his daughter’s shoulders.“Watch the orsovite,” he said. “When we’re close, you’ll know.”“And what do I do?”“Trust the orsovite.” As soon as the words were spoken, he wanted to take them back. Mariam had been out with the orsovite, and she had never come back. Still, it was all he had. He trusted the furry chitinous beasts in so much else it just made sense to trust them in this. He wondered where the orsovite that had accompanied his wife had gone.“Dad?”Joaquin sighed.“Sorry, Ry. I…”“Mum went this way, didn’t she?”Joaquin opened his mouth to deny it, and then noticed that this had been exactly the way Mariam had gone.“Yes.”“Are we going to try and find out what happened to her?”“We already did, remember?”“You never allowed me to help.”Looking back, Joaquin saw that had been a mistake. He just hadn’t wanted Rylie to be with the group that discovered whatever was left of her mother. As it was, they’d found no trace of her, or the two orsovite that had been with her.“Why didn’t you let me help?”“You were having nightmares.”“But that was probably to do with the burrowers.”“Yeah.”“Dad—”“Look, Ry. I’m sorry I didn’t let you go out with the search teams. I should have, and I’m sorry, but I can’t go back and fix that, now.”“It’s okay, dad. So, are we?”“Are we what?”“Going to look for mum?”“No, Rylie. Look, I…” He paused. He had been going to say that he didn’t think Mariam was coming back, that he’d brought Rylie out to show her something else she needed to be careful of, but he stopped.“I hadn’t meant to,” he managed, after a moment, and the orsovite gave a curious ripple beneath him.“Do you think they know?” Rylie asked, and Joaquin knew his mount hadn’t been the only one to react to his words.“Maybe,” he said.“Well, Big Blue was her favourite,” Rylie told him, “and Little Blue is the first wiggle she helped to raise.”Wiggle. Usually the term made him smile, but not today. What Rylie was saying was true, Big and Little Blue had been the first orsovite Mariam had formed an attachment with. He guessed if he hadn’t been out looking for kess blooms with them, she’d have taken them on her helical hunt, and maybe things would have been different.“Wasn’t she looking for helicals?” It was as though Rylie had read his mind, and Joaquin pondered that for a short moment. There was something in that. Before he could isolate why it might be important, Rylie repeated her question.“Well, wasn’t she?”“Yeah, she was.”“Is that why you’ve never let me try to find some more?”“Yeah.”“We need them, you know.”He knew. Helicals were annuals. They grew rapidly from the first thaw to mid-summer, and then they bloomed. The orsovite adored their nectar, swarming over each of the thirty-foot tall tangles of vine to reach the half dozen drooping flowers that unfurled.Every year, he watched Rylie hold her breath, as the orsovite disappeared into the centre of the purple petals, releasing it only when they re-emerged, swollen with nectar, and with the pollen sacks on their hindquarters stuffed full.While Joaquin had managed some success by softening the seed pods in a mild acid bath, they were down to their last twenty or thirty plants. Come next spring, he’d have no more helicals to put in the ground, and he wondered how the orsovite would fair.“We need to go this way.” Again Rylie distracted him from his worries, and he glanced up to discover she’d maneuvered past him to take the lead.“How do you know?” he asked.“Mum’s diary,” she answered, waving a small book, bound in a flame-red cover.Joaquin had forgotten he’d given it to her, after they’d held the memorial. Now, he wondered if he’d regret it. He also wondered if he shouldhave invaded Mariam’s privacy, and stolen a peek, when he had the chance. After her disappearance, there just hadn’t seemed to be a point.“Hey! Wait up!” Joaquin yelled, repeating it, until Rylie pulled her orsovite to a halt. “Wait up.”“What dad?”“I… it’s just we’re about to go into the trees, and there are critters there that only come in autumn.”“What sort of critters?”“Well, they blend with the leaves. They’re orange and red and brown, and they have scales or fur or something that hangs off them in just the same way the leaves hang off the trees.“So?”“So, I saw one take down a schliva.”“Full grown?” At least Rylie had the sense to look worried.“Full grown. Right out of the air. One minute the schliva was flying toward a vera bloom, and the next this critter reached right out of the trees and grabbed it.”“How?”“I’m not sure. I only caught a glimpse of it. It had two long forearms that folded. It took the schliva out of the air with those.”“And you think it was one of those that took mum?”Did he? To be honest Joaquin couldn’t be sure.“I don’t know.”“But you think so.”“Yeah, I think so.”“Okay, I’ll keep an eye out. Now, can we go?”“Which way?”Rylie led them along the main trail into the forest, not pausing until she came to a stand of vera vines.“Is this where you saw the whatever-it-was?”“No, not here. Further in.”“Okay. Mum left the trail here. She used the vines as a guide and says we should swing left. She’d thought she’d found a tangle that might be helicals, but she had to wait until it flowered to be sure.”Which is why Mariam had been so excited when she left that morning; she’d known the only to tell the vera and helical vines apart was when they flowered. She’d been down to inspect their own helical tangle and come back to tell him the flowers were starting to open, and then she’d headed into the forest. Joaquin had almost called her back, but he still hadn’t been sure how to describe the creature, and he’d let her go without saying anything.They swung left, the terrain unfamiliar to Joaquin’s practiced eye until they reached a small stream. Something about the way the trees grew down to a natural fjord jolted his memory. He turned his head.“Ry, ease back,” he said, keeping his voice low.She did as she was told, and glanced around herself, before suddenly throwing herself flat against Little Blue’s neck. Movement flashed in the trees above her head, two scythe-like appendages whipping through the space her body had been. The orsovite gave a chitter of alarm, and surged forward and away. It splashed across the stream and up the opposite bank, jinking suddenly wide around the base of another tree before vanishing from sight.“Ry!” Joaquin shouted, and urged his mount toward the stream.But Big Blue refused to move. It propped, bracing two of its long multi-jointed legs against the trees ahead, and refusing all his signals to move ahead. And, ahead of them, the forest rustled, sections of canopy moving like clouds of red and orange leaves. Parts of it flowed after Little Blue and Ry, and parts of it moved uncertainly back and forth over the trail. Big Blue braced against the trees and hunched in on itself, raising one of its hind claws to press Joaquin close to its back.He obeyed, suddenly realising that to follow Ry and Little Blue would have meant racing to his death. Tilting his head so he could watch the ruffled trees, he lay flat across Blue’s shoulders and waited. Suddenly, an entire flurry of branches detached itself from the tree and dropped to the ground. Joaquin held his breath.The creature was beautiful—and terrifying. It stood on the hind two pairs of its legs, with the front pair tucked against its chest. Now he could see it clearly, Joaquin recognised it as a mantid; he’d seen something similar in the catalogues from earth, but on a much smaller scale.These creatures were half the size of Big Blue, their skin a base of bronzy gold, with the leafy attachments hanging from every surface. He was not surprised to see that this one’s eyes were the colour of rubies touched with gold. He hadn’t known they hunted in packs.At the same time, Joaquin registered the low thrum of wings, and knew why the crossing seemed so familiar. He’d followed it the autumn Mariam had disappeared. Beyond that small rise he’d come to an open dell in front of a small cliff. Vera vines fell in a tangle down one side of the cliff, and a narrow path wound its way around their base and around the hill away from the cliff.The mantids, also, registered the thrum of wings, and leapt up into the branches of the tree from which it had come. All around it, the forest leaves settled to silence and waited. A pair of schliva hummed their way along the trail, using it as relief from dodging between the trees. Joaquin wondered momentarily where the insects were nesting, but forgot about locating it when the mantids attacked. One minute, the trail was calm and quiet, and the moment the schliva reached the fjord, the trees erupted in a frenzy of red and gold.Joaquin heard the crunch as the mantids struck, and the high-pitched trill of the schliva’s danger cry, and then Big Blue moved. Instead of trying to edge past the mantids and their prey, the big orsovite backed away from the path. It ignored its rider’s urgent signals to move towards the river, but retreated away from the path. Just when he was ready to scream at the creature’s recalcitrance, Joaquin felt Blue change direction, and realised his mount had chosen a path that paralleled the original route.Holding his tongue, he let the orsovite carry him to a different part of the stream, and over the water. The animal moved with such surety that Joaquin let it direct itself through the brush and trees, hoping the creature knew how to find Ry and Little Blue. When they came to the cliff-edged dell, he breathed a sigh of relief.Ry and Little Blue were waiting on the path that would take them around the cliffs and over the hill. He raised a shaky hand by way of greeting, and Ry waved back, her face as pale as the lemon silk-grass surrounding their cottage. For their part, the two orsovite bumped snouts, and entwined their antennae in a rare show of affection. Joaquin stretched an arm far enough forward for Ry to touch his fingers, and then he gave his daughter a shaky smile.They stayed, fingers touching, until the orsovite broke apart.“Mama has a cross in the next valley,” Ry said, and Joaquin resisted the urge to tell her they were going to turn back. He’d done what he’d intended, and he wanted to know if she was all right, but that wasn’t a question he could ask out here.Such questions were better asked between the safety of the homestead’s walls, where tears could blur a person’s vision without endangering their life. Instead, Joaquin leaned forward in the saddle and focussed his attention on the path ahead.He noticed how Ry glanced more often at the trees and brush around her, and that the orsovites’ antennae were more active, twitching delicately this way and that, as though trying to sense danger before it struck.They needn’t have worried. The four of them made it to Mariam’s x-marked valley without encountering another mantid, and Joaquin didn’t need Rylie’s whoop of delighted victory to know Mariam had guessed it right. They drew the orsovite to a halt and looked down at the deep rift hidden in the forest’s depths.The path led down a set of creeper covered cliffs, bejewelled with sun-struck schliva, castanet beetles, and shimmer flies. Blue-furred orsovite scurried along the thick vines to disappear into tangles secure in the deep green foliage, where they filled pollen pouches and nectar sacs. The purple bells of helical blossoms hung amidst the red vera and pink kells, each vying for space, and the attention of the insects swarming amongst them.“It’s beautiful,” Rylie whispered, but, before Joaquin could agree a pair of schliva flew past them, screeching in alarm.The two orsovite didn’t wait for their riders’ instructions; they took off along the trail, heading for the nearest tangle. Joaquin and Ry ducked close to their shoulders, and let them run. They had no idea how close the mantids might be, but they daren’t shift their weight to look back. Joaquin felt the space between his shoulder blades twitch, as though it might feel the sharp bite of a mantid foreclaw at any second.When Big Blue reached the first massive tangle, and abandoned the path for the safety of the thick, twining stems and emerald foliage, Joaquin breathed a sigh of relief. To his surprise, his mount didn’t stop its headlong scurry, until it had reached the valley floor, and then it hurried through shoulder-deep silk-grass and bright blue bud knots, making a curious chirring sound.Little Blue moved in close to Big Blue’s flank, and the two of them kept calling as they moved. They only stopped when the valley narrowed enough for the tangles to overgrow it and form a deep, green-lit cave.“Blue,” Joaquin murmured. “Whoa, Blue.”But the big orsovite gave a curious shiver, as though shaking off the sound of his voice, and kept going forward. Rylie stayed silent and still, letting Little Blue run as close to Big Blue as it chose. The orsovite pair followed the tangle-enclosed tunnel until the ravine widened and sunlight shone ahead, and then they came to a halt. Their chirrs increased in pitch, developing a rhythmic rise and fall, and then, as if on cue, both fell silent.Joaquin turned in the saddle, trying to take in the valley. Helical tangles mingled with kells, but fewer insects flew amidst the blossoms. An odd clinking sound made him look down, and he noticed a cluster of castanet beetles scurrying past. A shimmer fly brushed by him, and then he realised what was so odd about the valley.None of the flying critters, flew down from the clear patch roofing the centre of the valley. Those who arrived came via the tunnel, and every single one of them left by it. Joaquin looked upwards, and caught a glimpse of autumn foliage just beyond the valley’s rim. Scanning it, he realised they were standing in a sinkhole, surrounded by helical and kell tangles, and then the orsovite emerged, and his understanding of the world took a tumble.Orsovite were solitaries. That’s what all the planetary surveys told them. They moved in family groups, when the young were small, and then became solitary wanderers on reaching maturity. But the surveys were clearly wrong, because, all around him and Riley and the two Blues, orsovite were emerging.Granted, most emerged on their own, but there were at least half a dozen instances of pairs or family groupings. The two Blues called again, and the gathered orsovite answered, their own calls blending with the rhythm of their mounts’. Joaquin felt Big Blue relax beneath him, and Little Blue moved a little further from its parent’s side.Joaquin was starting to wonder whether to order the orsovite to stop, when a woman emerged from amidst a small family group clustered around an opening in a helical tangle some twenty feet up.“Jo?” she called, then, “Jo! Ry!”Joaquin froze. In two years, he’d almost convinced himself that the owner of that voice was dead—long-eaten by whatever danger he had glimpsed at the beginning of that early winter. Rylie had no such inhibitions. Before he could even twitch, she had flung herself from Little Blue’s back, and disappeared into the silk-grass.“Ry!” he shouted, feeling a wave of panic roar over him. “Ry!”He tried to slide out of the saddle, but Big Blue had other ideas. It scurried through the grass, its long spindly legs carrying it more swiftly than Rylie could run. As it reached his daughter, the orsovite snatched her from the ground, gripping her like a piece of fruit, as it continued to run towards the woman, who was half-climbing, half sliding down the helical vines.The orsovite above clattered their mandibles in warning, to which Blue deposited Rylie in front of itself, and responded with a distinctive clatter of its own. This, it followed by a rising chirr, and then it flattened its antennae out to either side of its head in what looked like apology. The woman ignored the exchange, leaving the tangle to hurry through the yellow fronds of silk-grass and wrap her arms around her daughter.“I thought you’d never come,” she said. “I didn’t even know if your father would give you the diary.” She looked up at where Joaquin was sitting astride Blue, dumbstruck.“Are you not going to come down and hug me?” she demanded, and Blue gave another of its curious shivers, nearly unseating him.Joaquin climbed down. What he wanted to do was to reach out and gather the woman into his arms, and then ride out of the valley and back home. There he could shut the world away, but he didn’t. Instead, he walked slowly over to Mariam and Rylie, and wrapped both his wife and daughter in his arms.“They live in villages,” Mariam whispered, looking up at him, her eyes shining with joy. “They kept me safe, but they wouldn’t let me leave, because winter had come early, and the burrowers had arrived.”“Why didn’t you call?” Joaquin asked.“The mantids,” Mariam said, and some of her joy was replaced by fear. “The equipment was broken in the attack.”Rylie gave a small gasp of dismay, and Mariam pulled the girl close.“I’m sorry, Ry. Splotchy gave me time to get away, but by the time he escaped the mantids, he’d been too badly hurt. I couldn’t save him.”“It’s okay, mama,” but Rylie buried her face in Mariam’s side, and wept, anyway.“How did you survive?”“Splotchy threw me during the initial attack, and drew them away. I just ran. I ran up the path and into the valley, and I hid in one of the caves. I nearly broke an egg.” Her face showed horror at the memory. “But then I stopped, and I sang to it, and I told it was sorry, and the parents adopted me as one of their own. I’ve been helping with the hatchlings ever since.”“Why didn’t you leave?”“They wouldn’t let me go away on my own, and it takes a year before any of them are big enough to ride. The adults… well, I wouldn’t dare. They’re too wild, so I’ve been working with the wiggles and the crawlers. And I hoped you would come sooner.”“I didn’t read your diary,” Joaquin admitted, and Mariam reached up and laid her palm against his cheek.“I knew you wouldn’t, you silly man”—she glanced down at her daughter—“but I knew Rylie would.”“And you knew the helicals would run out,” Joaquin added.Mariam smiled at him.“About the helicals,” she said, and led her family back up the tangle to shelter for the night, “apparently they need the schliva, too. Let me introduce you to the nest, and I’ll tell you all about it.”After a year of living with the orsovite, another night was no time at all. Tomorrow, they could return, in the morning, when the mantids were sluggish, and the helicals were starting to unfurl.Home! Joaquin hugged Mariam and Rylie close. He knew Mariam would miss her orsovite family, but he also knew she would do her best to protect them, and her second home. Tomorrow, she told him, she would sign in to the colony land register and stake her claim on the valley and its creatures—and woe betide any who opposed her. 


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Autumnal Threat is available as a stand-alone short story at the following links: books2read.com/u/31dA7b.

You can also find Kristine Kathryn Rusch's latest free short story over on her blog: kriswrites.com. Why don't you go and check it out?

Carlie’s Chapter 4—Dear Tiger: I Miss You

LAST WEEK, Simone was grounded. This week, she makes a decision that just might change her world.Chapter 4 – 'Home' Alone
Date: Sunday, 19 August 3049

Hi Again, Tiger
It’s been more than a week since we went to the Exploration Center. As well as being grounded, I have to do a project on Jigo, because that’s where mum and dad explored.The project isn’t a problem. I finished it yesterday, after class. Don’t look at me that way. We have classes on a Saturday. It’s not so bad, because I don’t get to think about mum and dad, so much. Anyway, that’s why I haven’t finished your letter, yet.I’m on my own at the moment, because the rest of the class is off on another excursion. Marrietta is calling me a ‘company clone’, because I can’t go home to mum and dad. Apparently, it’s okay for her, because her parents are on a long-term project on the bio-tech world of Azmith, but I’m second class, because my mum and dad have disappeared and their project has been black-listed.I asked her how she knew it was black listed, and she said it was called black-listing, because the whole project disappeared into the black where it couldn’t be seen, and therefore something really bad must have happened, and seeing as I was being looked after by the company, my parents had to have worked for it. Well, at least we agree on one thing.So, Marrietta says, if my parents worked for the company and the project can’t be found, then the project has to have been one of the one’s that’s been black-listed. And aren’t I a looooser?You’d think she could just shut up about it, but she takes every chance she can get to put me down. What is her problem anyway?Well, whatever it is, I have a whole day without her, so I can do anything I want, and know I won’t be teased about it. I can just hear you saying “I told you so”, but I still wouldn’t trade being at school with a whole bunch of new faces for being on my own with just my mum and dad, and the wildlife.No… I tell a lie. I’d consider living without friends for a whole year, if it meant I could see my parents again. Just a year, mind. I don’t think I could do without my friends for much longer than that. And then I could see my mum and dad on the holidays after that. It would be great. Maybe mum and dad could have a research project at the complex here, and then they wouldn’t have to go away. But, no… they’d hate it. They love exploring new worlds—and that was one of the things they did ask me about.I told them to go and do their jobs, that I’d be okay in boarding school with Rini and Carmen. I missed them, but at least I could go and have holidays with them. Now, I can’t even do that, and no one will tell me why.D’you know what? I think I will open it. Maybe, there’s something inside it that can tell me what went wrong, a clue as to why they didn’t come back. I’ll post this first, and open the package first thing, when I get back. And by the time the guys in the FedExplore mailroom read this, it’ll be done.
Write me soon, Tige.

It’s always good to hear from you.

Simone. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The complete series is available as short, individual ebooks, and will become available as an omnibus, later this year. In the meantime, you can find them on this blog, until one week after the last chapter in the last book of the series has been posted, at which point this series will be taken down, and a new series serialised on site.
books2read.com/u/4Awrze
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books2read.com/u/4DoG8D books2read.com/u/b5Mng1
books2read.com/u/3GYBla books2read.com/u/4782k8

January 2019 Progress Overview

Well, January sure blew by fast! And December? Don’t even ask; it was a whirlwind. I think I missed the December progress report, but I won’t bore you with it, now. Now is all about January, and a new year, and new beginnings and all that kind of stuff… unless you calculate your year by the Australian financial year – which would make this the mid-year report, instead of the first annual report.

Let’s not do that, okay?Tracking Progress & Pulp Speed (PuSp)Having said that, I track progress by both years, now, so you’ll see those records, below, as well. Another new-ish thing I’m doing this year—since four other new things weren’t enough—is tracking my Pulp Speed—something I decided to do after reading Dean Wesley Smith’s article on it, again, late last year (although, I can’t, for the life of me, find it now…)
Anyway, I like the challenge of increasing my word output, and this was a handy way of measuring it, so I wrote down the numbers, and, each month, I check to see how I’m doing production-wise, against the previous month… The main goal is to hit a million new words for the year, which is Pulp Speed (PuSp) 1, and to stay at that pace. It’s doable in theory, but in practice is harder than it looks.It’s also about half of what I need to write to catch up a little on the back-log of older projects sometime over the next five years. I’ll be content with a regular PuSp1, even if I try to push for more.The January Summary So, January... Well, it was a challenge, but not a complete disaster, although it could have been. I started the year fatigued, and didn’t realise until I’d put in a 14-hour day on the first. (Start the year how you want to continue, right?)
Wrong. Sometimes you need to acknowledge that, damnitall!, you’re human. I ended up spending five days doing nothing related to work… or anything else, and then another week slowly getting my act together. Sleep is, apparently, a good thing, and there is such a thing as pushing too hard.
Found it!
So, ten days into the year, and I’d managed to set up the blog, complete several pieces of flash fiction, write several poems, work on the next Granny book, and finish January’s short story, Miguel Unmade . And then I started to look at what I needed to do next, which is when the edits arrived—which only goes to show that my editor has the world’s most impeccable timing.
It took me a week to edit two novels and start writing February’s short story, Rogue Retrieval . Once the edits were turned in, I set up more of the blog, finished Rogue , and got back to writing the third novel in the series I’d just edited. I also came down with a bit of summer cold or mild flu.
That was okay. A day off, and a few easy days later, and the third novel was finished. January Announcements:I’m writing in the Age of Magic universe! The first three novels are done, and February’s task is to write the fourth. Guess what I’m doing once this blog is posted...
Note: The cover you can see is the introductory boxed set of the first novels of all the series currently set in the Age of Magic universe - for less than a dollar! You won't see mine there - because it hasn't been released yet - but you will be able to check out the other authors, and read on without me. There are some fantastic stories in there. The Short Version:Now, if you’d like the short version, and numbers, here it is:Progress: January 2019Administrative Hours: 45 hours, 54 minutesAcceptances: 0Bloggery: 85,810 (many already written, but re-edited)New words produced: 54,570Outlines and Notes: 6,025Words compiled: 14,329 ( Jalaya )Works completed: 24 (2 short-stories— Miguel Unmade , Rogue Retrieval ; 1 novel under contract, 10 pieces of flash, 11 poems)Works edited: 4 ( Miguel Unmade , 2 novel under contract, Jalaya )Covers created: 1 (Miguel Unmade)Works formatted: 1 ( Miguel Unmade )Works published: 1 ( Miguel Unmade )Works released: 1 ( Miguel Unmade )Works submitted: 0Competitions Entered: 0January Hours at Desk: 149 hours, 19 minutes2019 Hours at Desk: 149 hours, 19 minutes2018-2019 Hours at Desk: 1,377 hours, 49 minutes https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07K87T2TZ/ books2read.com/u/4jawWl/

Friday’s Flash—From the War Zone to…

Last week we had a science-fiction piece set in the near future. Today’s piece is a short joined-worlds fantasy that forms the February 1st entry in Another 365 Days of Flash Fiction . -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the War Zone to…

Karaval thought the sky was about to fall, or, perhaps, just the ceiling. The whole building shook as the bombardment continued around him. Dust and small pieces of ceiling fell around him, as he curled under the desk. He had been meaning to go straight through it to the alley beyond, but now…He listened as something whistled and roared overhead, and wished there was a hole he could crawl into. Maybe coming into the warehouse office had been a mistake. He was sure of it when, moments later, two arms reached out of the solid, concrete floor and pulled him through it, and into the tunnel below.He was even more sure, when the monster that held him, tucked him under its arm, and loped down s concrete-lined corridor. Kicking didn’t help, and wriggling only made the arm draw more tightly around him. Karaval tried pushing, but found his arms hopelessly trapped. He was still struggling when the monster came to a halt in front of a large iron-bound door.It set the boy on his feet, and looked into his eyes.“I take you here, and you maybe not return.”Karaval spun on his heels and bolted, coming to a shuddering stop a short time later, to the sound of howling—and suddenly the monster was not interested in permission. It bounded over, grabbed him, bounded back, and wrenched the door open, taking him through.“Sorry,” it said, when they reached the other side. “Did not save you for the wolves to eat.”The wolves? From what he could see they were now the least of his problems.The clatter of hooves drew his attention, and he lifted his head. The monster muttered something that mixed Arabic with something else and was far from polite. It made the beautiful man on the leading horse raise an eyebrow and smile.“Really? Come now, Shavich, you are late with your tribute.”He prodded Karaval with the butt of his spear.“This will go a long way to make up for it.”The monster sighed, and shifted its grip on the boy.“Be good,” it said, then added, “Be careful, too.”For a moment, Karaval thought it might apologise, again, but it didn’t. Instead, it looked at the incredible human looking down at it.“I go, now?”The man nodded, his eyes moving to the boy.“You go. Boy, you will ride with me.”He’d what? Oh no he wouldn’t.Karaval turned, intending to wrench open the door and run back through. Surely the wolves would be gone, by now. It was an idiotic hope, but he didn’t get to find out, because the door wasn’t there. Nothing but a winding stretch of road lay behind him.And that made it easy. Karaval took a step… and stopped as the sharp point of the spear touched down between his shoulder blades.The man’s voice was cold.“Your choice, boy.”Karaval froze.“I’ll ride with you,” he said, and breathed a sigh of relief when the spear tip went away.It was followed by the sound of hooves and then the man’s horse was beside him, a hand reaching down to assist him into the saddle in front of the rider.“There is a lot you need to learn,” he said, and Karaval looked out over the land, saw the creatures and near-human folk moving through it, and had to agree.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------You can find the first two flash fiction collections at the links below, until the covers are updated. The third collection will be released later this year.

books2read.com/u/bap506 books2read.com/u/3J21B3

Wednesday’s Verse—A Lonely Flight

This week’s verse moves from the urban fantasy fey to a staple of the fantasy stable—the dragon. It is taken from Another 365 Days of Poetry , a collection of mixed-genre poetry to be released later in the year, once both collection and cover are complete.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Lonely Flight
I ran the night and half the dayI ran to hold the fear at bayI ran and with ev’ry sobbing breathI prayed that I’d not be caught by death.I ran right down the mountainside,I ran from where the dragon bides,I ran ‘til I could run more,and then I knocked upon your door.Please shelter me, from what lies behindI’m sure I left no trail to findI’m sure that I’ve run far enoughI’m sure my steps left no print rough.Please let me rest, perchance to sleepand then, tomorrow morn, I’ll leave.I’ll leave and never come againTonight I just need to shelter from the rainMy thanks, my everlasting thanksof all good deeds does this high rankand I will forever be in your debtif I have escaped the dragon’s get.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------You can find the first two poetry collections at the links below - although there are plans to reissue them with more genre-appropriate covers in the future. The third collection will be released later in the year. books2read.com/u/mVLQZb books2read.com/u/bxgyLd

Tuesday’s Short—A Matter of Justice

This week’s short story takes us from a a post-apocalyptic Earth, where magic has returned and elvesand trolls are real to what a contemporary Earth might look like with that same return of magic. Welcome to A Matter of Justice ; it starts with a plane crash .

When the plane carrying P.O.S. Officer Schaeffer goes down, it’s no accident. She and her partner lose the prisoner they’re escorting to trial, and the local elves nearly lose their lives protecting the unicorns and a grove of dryads. With the aircraft and its passengers on the ground, Schaeffer has to secure her prisoner before the woman can create any more mischief—and with dusk closing, the local unicorns seeking vengeance, and the trolls beginning to stir it’s not going to be easy.

A Matter of Justice is available as a stand-alone short story at the following links: books2read.com/u/mdKeJR

Carlie’s Chapter 3—Dear Tiger: I Miss You

LAST WEEK, Simone was moved from one school - and one world - to another. This week, she's been well and truly busted.Chapter 3 – Grounded
From: Boarder 9652: Simone MichaelsDate: Friday, 17 August 3049

Dear Tiges
You’ll notice that my address is different. I’ve been moved again, although I’m still at the same college. I was so busted when your letter arrived. You see, I wasn’t supposed to be writing to anyone, and when you wrote back, they realized I must have written to you first. Guess they really do read the mail, hey? They are furious—and I am so grounded!Anyway, they said all you had to do to write to me was to send your letter to the nearest FedExplore office, and it’ll be sent on.Seeing as I’m grounded, I might as well tell you about the class excursion we went on last Sunday. We went to the “Exploration Center”, a theme park for anyone who ever wanted to be an explorer for the company.It was fun.We got to fly in simulators, hunt for minerals, explore the rainforests of Mingtan, and dive the oceans of Brusida. I loved it, but the Jogi exhibit was my favorite, because mum and dad were part of the expedition team that found Jogi.If you’re wondering why FedExplore is taking care of me, it’s because it was part of mum and dad’s contract that, if anything happened to them, the company had to look after me. Great deal, hey? You think they would have asked me what I wanted first!School is okay. It’s harder than Losandro’s, but we learn more about the planets, geography and economics. Later on they say they’ll teach us some basic navigation math. It’s almost as though the company is teaching us the things we need to know if we’re going to work for them. When we turn sixteen, they start allowing us to play nul-grav sports. That looks like pure fun and excitement, but it’s probably all part of the training program.It’s probably a way of weeding out those of us who don’t have good nul-gee tolerance, from those of us who do. Bet they don’t put us in our final classes, until after we’ve completed a term of nul-gee sportification.I asked if they had heard anything back from the IGPs, but they said no. They also said to stop asking, because they’ll tell me as soon as soon as they learn anything new. I’m not sure I believe them. I tried to search in the CyberNet, but it’s as though the expedition never existed.Also, I’d tell you about the new friends I’ve made, but there aren’t any.You see, I just arrived last Wednesday, and got to go on the excursion to the Exploration Center on Sunday. We all had reports to do on Monday, but we were able to talk, and that’s when I found out that I didn’t belong—and that the other kids weren’t going to let me forget it.One of the girls, Marrietta, asked me which expedition my parents were on. When I said Sharvin, she looked at me as though I’d grown a second head, or turned blue or something. Anyway, she tells me there’s no such expedition. I tell her that there was, and that it had left eight months ago. She calls me a liar and drags me to a wall in the school caf, where all the expeditions  FedExplore have ever done or sent, are hanging on the wall.“If it’s so real, then find it,” she says, and I go straight to the quadrant, sector and system it’s meant to be in.You know what, Tiges?It wasn’t there.
And, now, none of the kids will talk to me.
It’s like I shouldn’t be here. Well, that’s fine with me, because I really wish I wasn’t!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The complete series is available as short, individual ebooks, and will become available as an omnibus, later this year. In the meantime, you can find them on this blog, until one week after the last chapter in the last book of the series has been posted, at which point this series will be taken down, and a new series serialised on site.
books2read.com/u/4Awrze
books2read.com/u/mgrxdR




















books2read.com/u/4DoG8D books2read.com/u/b5Mng1
books2read.com/u/3GYBla books2read.com/u/4782k8