MCM's Blog, page 17

Chapter 3p5 – Here's Hoping

The voice boomed authoritatively through Pelly's speakers. "Unspool your Origami Engine and return to the spaceport, Galactic Pelican. We will escort." The Orbit Patrol interceptor loomed in the cockpit view screen, a series of red alert lights flashing across its black chrome surface. Deadly vacuum generators encircled the ship's cockpit.

Tic swung himself into the captain seat. "Pelly, do they have a tractor beam on us?"

"Have you been making trouble again?" scolded Pelly.

"Just answer the question," snapped Tic.

A few seconds of white noise from the speakers conveyed Pelly's disapproval. "…No tractor yet."

"Good," said Tic. "Keep spooling."

"I guess you were right," said Milly, settling into the copilot's chair. "The police really have been on my trail."

Tic said nothing: he wasn't sure Milly was the one the Orbit Patrol was really after. Lady Libden might have gotten in touch with Mr. Dunter and learned that Tic had been lying about the Adam Astrobot toy. There was no point sticking around to find out.

"What are we going to do?" asked Milly.

"We're gonna jump," said Tic. "Pelly, we've gotta go."

"Have patience. The Origami Engine has made 90% of the necessary mass-folds."

"Come on." Tic pounded the control panel with his fist. He thought for a quick moment, then said, "Pelly, open the hold."

Pelly practically gasped. "But Mr. Bolter…"

"Do it. Jettison everything."

"Wait," said Milly, "doesn't that cargo have to be delivered to Entulov 5?"

"They're paying me less than you are, kid," said Tic.

The autograv systems flipped off, the ship shook, and they heard a series of clattering bangs. Pelly said, "We are at 100% mass-folds."

Tic looked at Milly. "Here's hoping they still don't have us tractored yet. Pelly: Jump."

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Freedom Beer, Part 5

Hank let his motorcycle cruise into the parking lot of the Lizard Belly Motel on the outskirts of Bleached Skeleton. A cluster of houses and small shops had sprouted up around a gas station like Cyperus papyrus around the Nile. Despite the clear air and the altitude, the winter sun failed to provide any warmth. The motel parking lot was as cold and desolate as any place could be at noon on a Tuesday.

The half dozen other cars were distributed into the parking spaces like men at a bank of urinals.

Hank considered such rules to be as binding as uncomfortable briefs and disregarded them just as readily.

He put down his kickstand unnecessarily close to a luxury car. Zelphia climbed off of the back of the motorcycle, removed her helmet and shook her lustrous hair free. Hank was sorry to feel her go. Each turn on their ride resulted in her arms wrapping around him a little tighter.

"Is this where you last saw Mr. X?" Hank put a toothpick in his mouth.

"I told you that I've never met Mr. X. I've only been in contact with the Viper, who must be one of his lieutenants."

"So this is where you last saw the Viper?"

"Not exactly. This is where I last spoke with him. I've never shaken hands with him, or even seen him. I don't know what he looks like. He sat in the bathroom with the door closed and shouted orders at me."

Hank grunted and got off the bike.

"I really don't like being here. Seriously. You should have taken me to the airport. I could have been on my way out of the country already. And it was cold in that tent in the woods last night."

"You could run but you can't hide. If we're talking about a somebitch rich enough to buy the Humping Stones, we're talking about a somebitch with international contacts. Bullies don't learn anything if you show 'em your tail. First, you gotta show 'em your fists, and then you let their dentist show them an astronomical dental bill."

"Fighting doesn't solve everything."

"I had room in my sleeping bag," Hank said, skimming over the philosophical riposte. "We had to sleep in the woods in case any other attackers arrived before dawn."

"We could have stopped on the way here and had a real cup of coffee."

"What was wrong with the camp coffee?"

"You put a whole egg in it. I don't like shells in my coffee."

"That's egg drop coffee. You can barely taste the egg."

Hank and Zelphia went into the motel office. A rat in a pressed white shirt, a tie and slacks oiled up from behind a desk made out of more metal than an aircraft carrier.

"I'm sorry, we don't offer hourly rates," the rat said, leering at Zelphia. She made a face at him and investigated the complimentary coffee.

"Do you have anything that doesn't smell like scorched hog anus?" she asked.

"That's for motel guests only."

"Leave it, toots," Hank said. "You don't want to drink something that a rat's touched. They don't know how to live clean, how to wash their hands."

"I know how to wash my hands." The rat sneered.

"I'll bet that you're real good at it, too, because you practice every week," Hank said. "Listen, I need to know the name of a fella who stayed at this flystrip. He would have checked out two days ago."

"I'm sorry, but are you a police officer?"

"No."

"I didn't think so," the rat said, twitching his whiskers. "And you would need a warrant for that information anyway."

"Okay, well, how much for a room?"

"I know that I complained about the sleeping bag but I've changed my mind," Zelphia said.

"Thirty seven dollars," the rat said. He looked Hank up and down. "Cash."

Hank dropped two twenties on the desk.

"And I have a special request. Room 203."

The rat handed him the key.

"Why do you want that room?"

"I think I'll like the view," Hank said. He took his toothpick out of his mouth and set it on the desk. Then he held the door for Zelphia and stared down the rat while he tried to get a better view at her backside.

"What a creep," Zelphia said.

"I like guys like that. They're so two-dimensional that when they die the newspaper can print their obituary right on them. Easy to read."

Hank led them up to room 203. Zelphia was right about the view. It occupied the corner of the building. The balcony provided a commanding view of the road for miles. Hank started to put the key in the lock, but then thought better of it. He jiggled the handle and pushed on the door. It swung open.

"I think that my tent was sturdier," Hank said.

They went inside the room. Two twin beds stood on either side of a small bedside table. A filthy lamp with a metal flower lampshade stood atop it. The walls had been upholstered with violently green twill. The room looked like an interior decorator from the early seventies had too much to drink and threw up into a time machine.

"Right here," Zelphia said, walking over to the second bed. "I sat here. The Viper sat in the bathroom. I couldn't see him."

Hank went into the bathroom and came back out a few minutes later.

"I was assaulted by those fixtures. I've seen less orange in a mimosa. But it's clear of any evidence."

Hank began to sweep the room. He pulled the beds away from the walls, yanked off the sheets, examined their frames. He pulled out the drawers and felt around inside. Even the TV wasn't safe. With a screwdriver from his multitool he pried off the plastic case and peered into its guts.

Then he grunted.

"So the trail has gone cold?" Zelphia asked.

"I don't think that our lead is in this room." Hank peered very intently at a spot on the wall.

"Is the wall to threadbare for your taste?"

Hank didn't respond. Instead, he punched the wall. His fist went through like a piston through a piece of cardboard. He punched through his other fist. Elbow-deep in the wall, he planted his feet and jerked his body backwards and hauled a man through the dusty hole. In one smooth motion he bodyslammed his victim on the bed.

"A sophisticated listening device!" Hank roared, snatching a drinking glass from the man and holding it up. "I heard it scraping on the other side of the wall! You obviously never had any siblings who wanted to rat you out, you rat!"

Zelphia recognized the man as the motel clerk.

"You fucking pervert!"

"I don't know shit!" the rat yelled.

"You're denying things a little early, buddy! Who hired you?" Hank asked.

"Nobody! I'm just a pervert! Like the hottie said!"

"Remember when I said that I hadn't killed a man in my line of work? I'm not on the job," Zelphia said, grabbing Hank's screwdriver from the pile of broken television parts and approaching the rat. Hank held her back.

"A dead rat's even less useful than a live one."

"I'm not a rat, just a pervert."

"A pervert would use higher-tech equipment. I know what you are. You're not even a rat. You're just an appendage, the scummy fingers attached to the end of a scummy arm, feeling out something for the brain so that it doesn't have to get itself dirty up there in its safe little skull tower!"

"I don't know what you're saying."

"You have two options. The first is tell us everything and then we call the police. The second is that I walk out of that door and let my friend do whatever justice she felt with that screw driver, then we call the police, and then you tell them everything. What's it going to be, rat?"

"Perry Easton! Perry Easton! Perry Easton!" The rat kept his beady eyes focused on the screwdriver while he shouted the name.

"Perry Easton."

"Yes! He came here last week. He gave me three hundred bucks and all he asked is that he not be disturbed. I did as I was told. When you came around here snooping I figured that I could either get more money out of him or get some money out of you! That's it! I swear!"

Hank dropped the man onto the bedspread, pulled out a cell phone, and dialed a number.

"I'm looking for Colonel Joson," Hank said. He picked something out of his teeth. He tapped his foot. He menaced the rat with a fist. His face brightened.

"Colonel Johnny Joson! It's Hank Rockjaw here. Good, good. Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Yep, yep. I got the name of a dirtbag for you to look up. I know. No, it's not part of any sanctioned law enforcement. All I hear is 'Hank, I'm a goody two shoes that wouldn't clobber a bandit to save my little old grandma.' You're goddamn right that's why I was never in the military. Okay. Thanks. His name is Perry Easton."

More menacing, teeth picking, foot tapping.

"The Sonoran Desert? The Mexican side? No kidding. Listen, would you mind if I swung by? I'll give you more details when I arrive. Great. Fuck you, too, I can't wait to see you."

Hank hung up.

"We're heading to the Doctor Ariel Hanson Air Force Base. And you," Hank said, turning to the rat, "go ahead and pass this on. But make sure that we don't find out that you did, because we'll be back and she'll have a bigger screwdriver."

Zelphia stabbed the screwdriver into the bedspread.

Hank and Zelphia went back to the parking lot and put on their helmets.

"Why did you say all that in front of him? For all we know this Perry Easton fellow is the Viper. It sure sounds like it. Which means that the Viper knows where we are. And where we'll be."

"We're traveling along a major United States highway on our way to an air force base. The Viper, whoever he is, would have to cast a big shadow to be any threat to us. And if he is, I'll sock him in the mouth and settle it once and for all. Trust me."

"The Viper wants me dead. Mr. X wants me dead. And all you've done so far is tell them where I am. Why should I trust you?"

"Because you're still alive to do the trusting."

Hank opened the throttle on his bitchin' hog and the pair rode away into the distance.

Chapter 3p4 – You're a Crazy Kid

"How could you help me with my problems?" said Tic, playing innocent.

Milly looked a bit sheepish. "I… Well, my parents were declared dead after the police investigation, and the life insurance payout was invested into a trust fund for me. I drained the account just before I left. In my note, I told my grandfather it was to pay for the rehab."

Tic gave a low whistle. "You're a crazy kid, you know that?"

"Finding my parents is more important to me than any amount of money," said Milly. "I need to get to Haddock. If you take me, and don't tell the cops, I'll pay off… 40% of your loans."

"That's all well and good," said Tic, "but I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable taking your parents' life insurance money, especially if they aren't really dead…"

"If it helps," said Milly, "think of my offer as… As an investment in your business."

"Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, and how important this obviously is to you, but—"

"Tell you what," said Milly, cutting him off. "Why don't I expand my offer? You've been to Haddock before, right? If you act as my guide once we're there and help me find my parents, I'll pay off your entire loan. How does that sound?"

Tic was almost exploding with glee on the inside, but he kept his facial expression straight. All he had to do was play tour guide for a little while, and she was basically handing him a blank check!

"How can I refuse that?" said Tic. He shook Milly's hand. "You have a deal."

Just then, Pelly trilled a notification. "We're being hailed," she said, "by the Orbit Patrol."

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Casting your bread

The market for ebooks has exploded and a mass of buyers rush daily through the crush of sellers, deafened by the hawkers' cries: half-price, today only, excerpts available here, read my reviews, buy one get one free. I'm expecting to see sets of free steak knives or bonus four-chapter-podcast-ring-tones any day now.

There is a quieter way for readers to find an author whose work they enjoy, and they can steer miles clear of the corporate giants who seem to hog most of the limelight. Oddly enough, it is one of the first avenues independent authors once used to attract an audience and it's still there and it's still just as effective.

Of course I'm referring to the free ebook directories.

Once upon a time, when I still engaged in the 'discussion' of ebooks versus real books and whether or not a book was real if it didn't have pages, one of the loudest arguments in favour of B&M bookstores with print books on shelves was, 'I love to browse'. The ebook directories offer you the chance, dear reader, to browse to your heart's content. And for authors, unlike certain corporate giants, there is no exclusivity with the free ebook directories. You work is there for readers to discover, to read, to pass on to friends. They are, very much, the libraries of our digital universe. And your work can be displayed in various formats to audiences drawn from every continent and most demographics, without cost to you.

Sadly, because some corporate giants have offered a vague whiff of parfum de chance, many authors have decided to opt for exclusivity, banking on a single big market bringing them [and a billion ectypes] wealth and success. And good luck to them, I say. Roll those dice; someone has to win. But there are many free directories, non-exclusive, and each with its own audience. I thought I'd show you around some of my favourites.

First, probably the biggest listing with the widest range you could imagine is Free Online Novels. The list of titles is vast but there is no detailed blurb for each story. You can browse via the basic genre listings or chance a discovery based on a more surrealist category – like Explorer of Dusty Bookshelves, Obsessive Coffee Drinker, or Friend of Simone de Beauvoir. While I'm doing nothing, saying nothing, making no ingenious merchandise, renouncing special offers and, in fact, while I'm making no effort of any kind, thousands of readers a month find my free novels through this one directory.

Another I have a great fondness for is bibliotastic. Not only does James provide access to free books in html, pdf, epub, and prc, he also maintains a wonderful host of reviewing editors. Readers, too, are encouraged to leave their comments and reviews. Once again, without effort I meet around two hundred and fifty new readers a month for the one title I have listed there. I recently spoke to an author who has been a long time fan of bibliotastic, publishing 3 of his 8 of his novels through the site. Having developed a devoted following, he now works directly from his own website – no spamming everyone he knows, no constant progress updates, no need for the things that make knowing fellow authors a royal pain in the nether regions. If he makes it they will come. And they do.

I also love the team at obooko. Once again, this is a directory whose sole aim is to bring the work of authors before an audience. Initially pdf only and directed primarily toward populations where print books were either unavailable or too expensive, obooko has begun converting all their titles, so they are also available now in mobi and epub. There is a star rating system for readers and a private comment function direct to authors.

A newer, and very wide ranging service tapping into the huge and ravenous markets throughout Asia, is Get Free eBooks. I have had, at times, a thousand new readers a week referred by this one directory.

In the webserial forums and amid the numerous discussion sites for DIY ebook authors, there is a constant babble about how to bring new readers to an author's site. How do I advertise? Where should I pay to place my ads? What is the best way to grab the attention of readers? The focus is constantly on how to drag readers from their unfocussed browsing and bind and gag them on my site. So much time and effort is spent on perfecting my site. my illustrations, my layout, my honeytrap. It is all important, of course, but let me suggest going out to where the readers are. Instead of focusing on how to get readers to come to you and to read your serial or your novel, why not consider taking your book and placing it out on the shelves where the readers are already gathered.

Give something away. Rather than list your completed story arcs on your webserial page under 'what has gone before….' why not assemble a .doc or pdf and submit it. The editors at bibliotastic and obooko will do the crunching for you.

If you only have one book and it's taken you twelve years to write and now you are studying the best of the "Thirty Things Successful Authors Do Every Day to Sell Their Book" range of 'how to' manuals, then this isn't for you. But if you have some work to share: a collection of shorts, a novella you always liked but never could quite fit in anywhere on your website, a novel you wrote but just can't seem to market; this could be the solution for you.

Readers do not only comb Amazon looking for inspiration. Many readers will look for a name. If they find and enjoy the novel you wrote and gave away freely on bibliotastic, they will look for other titles you have available. If your work is good, they are happy to pay.

I've only listed four sites that I have a personal affection for here, but there are many, many more. If you are concerned about someone taking off with your work, I guess I should point out there are sites – Pinoy Exchange for example, who offer my free books and others – "BUY 1 take 3 EBOOKS!!! (twilight, h.potter, s.kinsella, a.chrstie, jrr tolkien, etc)" and I suppose your reaction to that depends how rabid you are over piracy. Also, Amazon Drippler did – past tense– advertise a set of 10 free historical novels for the kindle2 which included two of my titles. Also, the bit torrents do pick them up quickly. But if you are giving away a title, exposure is gained everywhere that title goes, and your name is right there on the cover bringing readers who enjoy your work back to you for the next installment.

The big money is now able to redirect even free content by making vague promises to authors who live in hope of wild, wild riches, and the day might soon come when there are no more free independent directories. They will go as the libraries are going and the world will be a little poorer.

Until that happens, why not dig out a good yarn you have gathering dust, or the one that sits four links down on the 'other' tab on your website and package it up for free distribution. You might be surprised just how much attention you can get.

Casting your bread.

The market for ebooks has exploded and a mass of buyers rush daily through the crush of sellers, deafened by the hawkers' cries: half-price, today only, excerpts available here, read my reviews, buy one get one free. I'm expecting to see sets of free steak knives or bonus four-chapter-podcast-ring-tones any day now.

There is a quieter way for readers to find an author whose work they enjoy, and they can steer miles clear of the corporate giants who seem to hog most of the limelight. Oddly enough, it is one of the first avenues independent authors once used to attract an audience and it's still there and it's still just as effective.

Of course I'm referring to the free ebook directories.

Once upon a time, when I still engaged in the 'discussion' of ebooks versus real books and whether or not a book was real if it didn't have pages, one of the loudest arguments in favour of B&M bookstores with print books on shelves was, 'I love to browse'. The ebook directories offer you the chance, dear reader, to browse to your heart's content. And for authors, unlike certain corporate giants, there is no exclusivity with the free ebook directories. You work is there for readers to discover, to read, to pass on to friends. They are, very much, the libraries of our digital universe. And your work can be displayed in various formats to audiences drawn from every continent and most demographics, without cost to you.

Sadly, because some corporate giants have offered a vague whiff of parfum de chance, many authors have decided to opt for exclusivity, banking on a single big market bringing them [and a billion ectypes] wealth and success. And good luck to them, I say. Roll those dice; someone has to win. But there are many free directories, non-exclusive, and each with its own audience. I thought I'd show you around some of my favourites.

First, probably the biggest listing with the widest range you could imagine is Free Online Novels. The list of titles is vast but there is no detailed blurb for each story. You can browse via the basic genre listings or chance a discovery based on a more surrealist category – like Explorer of Dusty Bookshelves, Obsessive Coffee Drinker, or Friend of Simone de Beauvoir. While I'm doing nothing, saying nothing, making no ingenious merchandise, renouncing special offers and, in fact, while I'm making no effort of any kind, thousands of readers a month find my free novels through this one directory.

Another I have a great fondness for is bibliotastic. Not only does James provide access to free books in html, pdf, epub, and prc, he also maintains a wonderful host of reviewing editors. Readers, too, are encouraged to leave their comments and reviews. Once again, without effort I meet around two hundred and fifty new readers a month for the one title I have listed there. I recently spoke to an author who has been a long time fan of bibliotastic, publishing 3 of his 8 of his novels through the site. Having developed a devoted following, he now works directly from his own website – no spamming everyone he knows, no constant progress updates, no need for the things that make knowing fellow authors a royal pain in the nether regions. If he makes it they will come. And they do.

I also love the team at obooko. Once again, this is a directory whose sole aim is to bring the work of authors before an audience. Initially pdf only and directed primarily toward populations where print books were either unavailable or too expensive, obooko has begun converting all their titles, so they are also available now in mobi and epub. There is a star rating system for readers and a private comment function direct to authors.

A newer, and very wide ranging service tapping into the huge and ravenous markets throughout Asia, is Get Free eBooks. I have had, at times, a thousand new readers a week referred by this one directory.

In the webserial forums and amid the numerous discussion sites for DIY ebook authors, there is a constant babble about how to bring new readers to an author's site. How do I advertise? Where should I pay to place my ads? What is the best way to grab the attention of readers? The focus is constantly on how to drag readers from their unfocussed browsing and bind and gag them on my site. So much time and effort is spent on perfecting my site. my illustrations, my layout, my honeytrap. It is all important, of course, but let me suggest going out to where the readers are. Instead of focusing on how to get readers to come to you and to read your serial or your novel, why not consider taking your book and placing it out on the shelves where the readers are already gathered.

Give something away. Rather than list your completed story arcs on your webserial page under 'what has gone before….' why not assemble a .doc or pdf and submit it. The editors at bibliotastic and obooko will do the crunching for you.

If you only have one book and it's taken you twelve years to write and now you are studying the best of the "Thirty Things Successful Authors Do Every Day to Sell Their Book" range of 'how to' manuals, then this isn't for you. But if you have some work to share: a collection of shorts, a novella you always liked but never could quite fit in anywhere on your website, a novel you wrote but just can't seem to market; this could be the solution for you.

Readers do not only comb Amazon looking for inspiration. Many readers will look for a name. If they find and enjoy the novel you wrote and gave away freely on bibliotastic, they will look for other titles you have available. If your work is good, they are happy to pay.

I've only listed four sites that I have a personal affection for here, but there are many, many more. If you are concerned about someone taking off with your work, I guess I should point out there are sites – Pinoy Exchange for example, who offer my free books and others – "BUY 1 take 3 EBOOKS!!! (twilight, h.potter, s.kinsella, a.chrstie, jrr tolkien, etc)" and I suppose your reaction to that depends how rabid you are over piracy. Also, Amazon Drippler did – past tense– advertise a set of 10 free historical novels for the kindle2 which included two of my titles. Also, the bit torrents do pick them up quickly. But if you are giving away a title, exposure is gained everywhere that title goes, and your name is right there on the cover bringing readers who enjoy your work back to you for the next installment.

The big money is now able to redirect even free content by making vague promises to authors who live in hope of wild, wild riches, and the day might soon come when there are no more free independent directories. They will go as the libraries are going and the world will be a little poorer.

Until that happens, why not dig out a good yarn you have gathering dust, or the one that sits four links down on the 'other' tab on your website and package it up for free distribution. You might be surprised just how much attention you can get.

Chapter 3p3 – That's Your Clue?

Tic scratched his forehead. "That's your clue? You're heading to Haddock because your dad said he 'had ocular issues'? Doesn't that seem like a bit of a stretch?"

"It was obviously intentional!" said Milly.

"Another question: I thought you said they disappeared 15 years ago, but in the message they said 14."

"It must've taken them a long time to get their message sent after they recorded it. They're obviously being watched really closely."

"Uh huh. Sure. Don't you think this whole thing's just a bit too fishy? What does your grandfather think about all this?"

Milly avoided Tic's eyes.

"He does know, doesn't he?"

"He never would have let me go!" Milly blurted out. "He gave up on my parents a long time ago."

"Great," said Tic. "You ran away? He probably thinks you've been kidnapped or something!"

"No, I left him a note saying I'd enrolled myself in a super private rehab facility," said Milly. "He's always been paranoid that I was going to get myself addicted to something or other. I bet he's sitting at home right now writing his 'I Told You So' speech."

Tic sighed. "You have to realize how crazy this all sounds from my perspective. I can't afford to get myself caught up in any more trouble. I've already got some pretty unhappy clients breathing down my neck, and don't remind me about the loan payments…" He watched for her reaction.

At his mention of loans, she looked up at him with big, innocent eyes and bit her lip. "I… What if I could help solve your money problem?"

And there it was. The hook was in.

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Freedom Beer, Part 4

"Ninety-nine!" Hank grunted. He had snapped the metal plate that served as a bench from the wall and laid it across his back. His two cellmates sat on either end to provide weight as he did pushups.

"I said, you're free to go," the sheriff's deputy said, holding open the door to the jail cell.

"One hundred!"

"What's wrong with your client?" The deputy turned to Hiram, who was grinning.

"You must be new to the county." Hiram patted the deputy on the shoulder

The inmates-slash-freeweights slipped off the ends of the bench and struggled to lift it off of Hank's back.

"Thanks for the assistance, gentlemen." He followed Hiram out of the cell block while the deputy helped the two men replace the bench. "I always said that you were the best lawyer in the country."

"You've given me lots of practice. And you may want to hold onto your praise until after you hear the number of zeroes that I had to write for your bail. And that was only after hours of arguing with Judge Spiknid and a half dozen calls to the attorney general."

Hiram led them out into the parking lot. Night had fallen. Hank's motorcycle gleamed in the sterile glare of the mercury vapor security lights.

"That won't be an issue. Can we settle your payment tomorrow? I need to have a beer and a shower."

"Absolutely. I'm heading out to my girlfriend's place tonight, I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight."

Hank's motorcycle growled when he stepped on its kick starter. Moments later he was on the expressway, letting the rhythmic pulse of the streetlamps hypnotize him as he sailed down the deserted concrete. A few ramps and backroads later he pulled into his shed.

He walked up the dusty lane to his house, went inside, and tripped over an overturned vase. Walking carefully, he hit a light switch and found that the house was a mess. It looked like somebody had told a bear that a jar of honey had been hidden in one of the couches, tables or shelves before setting it loose.

The innards of an easy chair spilled out across a rug and mingled with a stack of books that had been riffled through and discarded. The bookshelves themselves had been ripped away from the walls with a crowbar that lay very neatly placed on one of the kitchen counters. Hank wrapped a napkin around his hand before he picked it up to examine it. No fingerprints marred the steel.

He left his doors unlocked. There wouldn't be any signs of a break-in. With a shrug he relegated the investigation until tomorrow. He went to the fridge. To his relief, the vandals hadn't disturbed his six-pack of Rockjaw Breweries Aqua Regia Triple IPA. He cracked one open, selected the seat with the most stuffing left in it, sat down and finally closed his eyes. The stress of the day flowed out of him like polyester filling out ripped damask.

Something cold pressed against his throat. It was on the outside, and it wasn't chilled Aqua Regia. Hank was used to knives being held to his throat, whether it was by Nazi assassins or by mobsters or by special operatives sent from tin pot dicatorships. The knife would have to wait until he finished his mouthful of beer, anyway. Refreshed, Hank opened his eyes.

"Nice job breaking in to an unlocked house!" Hank planted his feet on the floor and kicked the chair backwards. He felt the satisfying lurch of it slamming into the groin of whomever held the knife. Tucking his chin in, he let the inertia of the chair catapult him into a roll. He came up and already had a haymaker on its way to his opponent's jaw.

Zelphia Dipthong stood before him, knife at her side, eyes open in horror at the ham hock about to make her dentist very rich.

Even Hank had a hard time fighting the inertia of his fist but he strained to throw it wide at the last minute. Unfortunately, on its way back, it had a friend. Zelphia slammed the palm of one hand into his cheek.

"Tell me where they are!"

"Where what are?" Hank asked, dodging her follow-up knife slash.

"The recipes! For your Brewery!" Zelphia plunged the knife into the chair next to Hank, but only because Hank did a very sultry move with his hips to get them out of the way.

"If you kill me then I can't tell you!"

Hank exploited the brain lock to transition into a physical joint lock. He wrapped Zelphia's arms up into a pretzel and smashed her knife hand into the counter until the weapon clattered to the floor.

"Ow! I wasn't going to kill you!"

"Don't stab something that you don't intend to kill!"

"Let me go!"

"Will you promise that you won't stab me if I let you go?

"I can't stab you now, anyway!"

"Shake on it?"

"What?"

"Will you shake on it?"

"You've got my arms all bound up."

Hank shifted the pretzel until her hand was out. He slipped his palm against hers.

"Shake on it if you mean it."

Wincing, Zelphia did. Hank immediately let go.

Zelphia kneed him in the breadbasket because hegrabbed one off of the kitchen counter to block the strike he knew was coming.

"Ow!" Zelphia said, grabbing her knee.

"I won't clobber you only because you pledged not to stab me."

"It doesn't matter if you do or not. You'd only be clobbering a corpse." Zelphia collapsed into a chair. A polyester cloud of stuffing blew up behind her. Hank thought she looked like an angel. A deadly, sneaky thief angel.

"I'm not going to kill you."

"It's not you that I'm worried about," Zelphia said. Hank noticed the hunted look in her eyes. He'd fought hundreds of opponents but had only seen that look in one type of combatant.

"Who sent you?"

"Nobody," Zelphia said, too quickly.

"You're a worse liar than you are a thief."

"I'm not a thief!" Zelphia let her anger bubble to the surface to obfuscate any possible reflection. "I'm a burglar, and a damn good one. That's the problem."

"That I caught you."

"Egotistical much? Not you. I'm assuming that, if I wasn't now the walking dead, you'd just make me pick up cans next to the side of the road or talk to at-risk youth about my crimes. But don't worry about scheduling any of that goody two-shoes crap. I won't live long enough to make it."

The hair on the back of Hank's neck stood to attention. He kicked Zelphia's chair. It jumped sideways by two inches.

As Zelphia opened her mouth to complain, a small dart appeared in the antimacassar two inches to the left of her jugular vein. Hank reached towards the stove behind him and slammed his hand down on the handle of a dirty pan. It rocketed into the air. The quiet "ting" of a dart breaking against the cast iron was followed by an equally quiet "shit."

Hank was out the door before the pan smashed into the floor. The assailant was fast. He was already back in his car and tearing off down the lane. Hank could catch him on his motorcycle but he couldn't be sure that was the only killer on the ranch. He went back inside.

"I've saved your life three times tonight. Once by kicking your chair, once by throwing a pan, and once by sparing your face from my right cross. Stop staring off into space and being sad and all this enigmatic bullshit. Tell me the truth. Why are you such a terrible lawyer?"

"Because I'm not a lawyer at all. Dr. X found this Josh Spurlock character as cover."

"So you collaborated with that crooked judge to get me thrown in the slammer."

"I never saw that judge before. Dr. X had assured me that I would only have to play a lawyer and that he would take care of the rest."

"Who wants you dead?"

"Dr. X. I've never met him, but it turns out that the last half-dozen jobs that I've done were for him. Do you remember the news story about the famous Humping Stones of Indonesia a few months ago?"

"I helped rescue them – and the archaeologists – from the dictator that invaded the dig site because he wanted the stones for his bathroom"

"And do you remember how somebody stole the Humping Stones from the Guggenheim?"

"Nobody could figure out how the thief got past all of the security!"

"That's because they aren't me. I can only assume that the Humping Stones are sitting on one of Dr. X's shelves. But he didn't really care about the Humping Stones, or the painting 'Venus on Wash Day' or that priceless set of knee socks that supposedly belonged to Shakespeare. He only cared to build enough evidence against me to blackmail me into doing his dirty work."

"My ranch isn't dirty."

Zelphia surveyed the destroyed furniture, ruined books and the flecks of bacon grease all over the ceiling, walls and floor – added to the syrupy yellow poison leaking out of the broken darts.

"Until you arrived," Hank said, crossing his arms.

"Dr. X wants the Rockjaw Brewery recipes. And now that his assassin has seen me talking to you I can't even ask you nicely for them. Dr. X would kill me on the spot if I show up. And he has enough proof of my criminal activities to put me away for life. The life of the Sun, to be precise."

"I always ask myself," Hank said, "'what would Hank Rockjaw do?' And Hank Rockjaw always helps a damsel in distress, even if she is a thief. Have you ever killed a man?"

"No comment."

"While stealing?"

"No. I keep my profession peaceful, unless you count tranquilizer blowdarts."

"What kind of man would I be if I measured you on tranquilizer blowdarts? I'd be condemning all ninjas. Are you a fascist?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything. Are you a fascist?"

"No."

"That's what I thought. My facist sense wasn't tingling. Besides, it would be pretty hard to goose-step your way into an art gallery with sound-triggered alarms."

Chapter 3p2 – A Message?

"Your parents sent you a message?" said Tic.

Milly said, "Here, why don't I show you." She fished her PAI out of her pocket, navigated into the Holograph app, and thumbed the play button.

An image sprung up in the air, showing two middle-aged people—a man and a woman—with thin, grimy faces, wearing protective rubber suits and holding orange hard hats under their arms. They were standing in front of a backdrop of pipes, gauges, and steam.

"Hello, Mildykins," said the woman, just loud enough to be heard over the loud, low hum of background noise.

"How's my Little Dred Riding Hood?" said the man, with a touch of a smile.

"We miss you so much," continued the woman. "We've thought about you every single day for the past 14 years…"

Something clanged off camera. Both figures looked up nervously.

"We need your help, Mildred," said the man, quickly. "We're…"

A voice called out, "Oi, what's going on over there?"

The man swiftly reached for the camera and slipped it into his pocket. The holograph went dark, but the sound continued, somewhat muffled. Heavy footsteps approached.

"You two aren't allowed to talk unsupervised," said the unseen voice.

The woman said, "Sorry, Mr. Yoqir. We just bumped into each other… I'm on my way to the lab."

"And I had ocular issues," said the man, loudly. "Y'know, with my goggles."

"Yeah, sure," said Mr. Yoqir. "Back to work!"

There was some scratchy audio, and then Milly's PAI indicated the end of the message.

"Those were my parents," said Milly. "That's why I'm going to Haddock."

"…I'm not sure I see the connection," said Tic.

"Didn't you hear? My dad said he 'HAD OCular' issues. Haddock. It was a clue!"

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Chapter 3p1 – Just Drink It

Tic's mind was swimming laps in a hot tub while he swivelled agitatedly in his captain's chair. Money. She'd said there was money. But how much was her grandfather actually worth? How much access did she have to those funds? And how could Tic get his hands on some?

He let Pelly handle the back-and-forth with Space Traffic Control. The launch went relatively smoothly, which is to say that the trip through the atmosphere was bone-jarringly, jaw-rattlingly, rib-crushingly unpleasant, but at least there hadn't been any problems with the paperwork.

When they were safely in orbit Tic engaged the autograv system, set the Origami Engine to spool up, then unclipped himself and floated back to the passenger cabin to check on Milly. She was just dropping a barf bag into a disposal tube.

"Here," said Tic, opening a minifridge in the corner and mixing the ingredients of a few bottles. "Have a Saucy Wench. It'll help."

"A what?"

"A… Never mind what it's called, just drink it."

"Er… Thanks," she said, taking the proffered glass. "Why does every part of space travel have to be so unpleasant?"

"You get used to it," said Tic.

Milly took a swig, swished it around in her mouth for a second, then dove into her cabin's en-suite bathroom and spat it out into the sink. "Ow! My mouth is burning!"

"Doesn't taste like puke now, though, does it?"

"I think it seared the nerves off my tastebuds!"

"Can't deny that it's effective!" said Tic. "So… You say your parents have been missing for how money—I mean, how many—years now?"

"Fifteen."

"And after all that time, what makes you think they're on Haddock?"

"Because," said Milly, examining her tongue tenderly, "about a week ago they sent me a message."

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A New Face in Town

 

1889 Labs is proud to welcome Tim Sevenhuysen into the family.

[image error]Tim debuted with his new series "Losing Freight", an interactive serial that allows readers to determine certain elements of the story's progression each week via a poll. But what kind of welcome would it be without a proper hazing?

So I forced Tim at gunpoint to do an interview, which was pretty difficult considering he lives in Canada. Good thing I'm so skilled at teleportation. Trufax.

Well, without any further delay, meet Tim Sevenhuysen!

 

TW: It's pretty exciting to have a new face around 1889 Labs. How has your experience been so far?

TS: It's great to be part of the team! I've really enjoyed getting some glimpses of the inner workings of 1889′s creative group, and I'm excited to see all of the fun new stuff that's going to be coming out in the future.

TW: Tell us a little about yourself, Tim. How did you come about this gig? What have you written in the past? What do you do in your spare time?

TS: I live in Victoria, BC, with my 7-month-pregnant wife. I met MCM here in Victoria a couple of years ago at a local "tweet-up" (remember when those were a thing?) and somehow got wrangled into being the "antagonist" for his book Fission Chips. My job was to throw him curve-balls every now and then by deciding what the villain's next move would be.

MCM has contributed a couple of stories to my 50-word story site too, and we've kept in touch a bit. When he put out a call for some "crazy writers" to take on a new 1889 project I put my hat in the ring and he picked me to work on the first "Flashback" project, which led me to start working on Losing Freight.

As an author, I'm best known for my 50-word stories. I've written almost three years' worth of them (that's 600+, but who's counting?). In my spare time I tweet a lot (@TimSevenhuysen), obsess over my Google Analytics stats, and watch hockey.

TW: Losing Freight is 1889 Labs' very first interactive serial. Can you tell the readers about it? Have you been enjoying it?

TS: Losing Freight is the first example of a concept that MCM came up with called the "Flashback," where one page of the story is posted each weekday and there's a poll attached that influences the next day's page.

Working on this project has been a lot of fun so far. It's very different from anything I've ever written before. Incorporating feedback from the readers after every single posted page means I have to take a whole new approach to my writing process. I can't just let the story go where I want it to go: I have to write every single page in an open-ended kind of way, to allow the readers to have as much influence on what happens as possible.

I'm still getting the hang of it, to be honest. I can say for sure that the next few weeks of the story are going to get a lot more interactive, because I'm starting to wrap my head around how to best utilize the polls. Over the next couple of weeks I'm planning to really start pushing the pace of the story, so I hope everyone's ready to keep up with the action!

TW: Who are some authors that inspire you?

TS: I've been a reader ever since… Well, ever since I first learned to read, I guess. Some of the authors who have inspired or influenced me the most are JRR Tolkien, Victor Hugo, Orson Scott Card, Douglas Adams, and Jonathan Swift, but I could easily extend that list with dozens more names.

TW: Do you have any other current projects that you're working on? Any future projects?

TS: I write a lot of short stories right now. I've challenged myself to self-publish a new short story every week of 2012, and I'm releasing those through my blog. I also have another web fiction project called Special People which is about everyday people with unique powers and abilities. That one updates with two chapters each week.

When I'm able to find the time, I have a half-written novel that I intend to complete this year, and a couple of other ideas for novels and novellas that I'd like to explore. So many ideas, so little time!

 

I'd like to thank Tim for both his time and not calling the police on me for shoving a gun in his face! Be sure to check out Losing Freight, featured on 1889 from February to March!