Matthew S. Cox's Blog, page 29

Stiltskin | Andrew Buckley

From the moment I read Death, the Devil, and the Goldfish, I knew I wanted to read more from Andrew Buckley. Stiltskin did not disappoint. The story follows the moderately hapless and ever-gangly Robert Darkly as he is going about a very odd day. Robert is no stranger to strange days, as strange things have strangely been happening to him for as long as he can remember.

After being cruelly deprived of a much-needed warm respite by the presence of an irritable dwarf in his bathwater, Robert gets dragged screaming and confused into another world. Once there, he sees the creatures that inspired classic fairy tales from the other side of the looking glass.

We have been a touch misinformed.

As Robert chases the mad dwarf, he runs into a bevy of characters he thought familiar but prove to be anything but. Mr. Buckley has created a fanciful story that appeals to the little boy or girl inside every one of us―the one that likes to light things on fire when no one is watching.

Filled with quirky humor and classic British understatement, Stiltskin had me laughing out loud quite a few times, much to the dismay of others in the room. The jokes and situations are spot-on, the dialogue is perfect, and the characters practically leap off the page―and grab you by the jubblies. The story, alas, is ill-suited to faint-hearted goats who may not take well to certain scenes of hircusine violence.

Divergent Fate #28

Overhead vents forced purified air down the corridor, teasing Risa’s hair across her exposed back. Ten inches from a white door, she clutched a flat, violet purse just large enough to conceal one Hotaru-6. She squeezed it through the fake leather, grateful Kurotai was concerned enough with style to keep their weapons sleek. The faint sound of footsteps on carpet prickled at her augmented hearing.

The door opened to the side with a soft hiss, brightening the hallway.

“Miss Black,” said Shiro Murasame. “Boots with an evening gown, I see you are a trend setter. Is something wrong, why are you looking down?” He took a step back. “Please, come in.”

“I feel naked in this thing.” She entered, facing him after a few steps. Loose black pants covered him from waist to bare feet. Risa’s gaze lingered on his chest. “You must have interesting hobbies. Those are some unique scars.”

He caught the neck of a white haori jacket with blue orchids and draped it over his shoulders, leaving it open. “I sometimes play with swords. The dress is beautiful, though those boots make a statement.”

Risa smirked at the rug. Dark violet covered her from breast to mid thigh, giving way to paper-white skin until three inches below the knee―her usual heavy boots. “I have heels if I need them.” She tapped the handbag.

“There’s room for them in there with a pistol?” She shot him a look. “Relax. The outline is rather obvious. Care for a drink?”

“They’re Mems. Hot tea would be nice. If you insist on wasting alcohol on my tox filter, make it sake, warm.”

She let her arms fall to the sides, wandering through the living room under the siren call of a balcony. Real wind lofted her hair when the automatic glass slid out of her way. Shiro’s apartment looked out over the city of Arcadia from the eighty-ninth floor. Risa held on to the railing, mesmerized in the thousand shimmering lights of the largest above-ground city on Mars.

Overhead, the atmospheric dome created an artificial star field in reflection, superimposed over real sky. Shiro extended a hand across her back and touched her shoulder as he moved up alongside. Fingers sliding down her back sent a shiver through her. He lifted his hand away.

“I am sorry, Miss Black. I do not mean to make you uncomfortable.” He held out a mug. “Tea?”

“You live so high up. It feels like I’m going to fall.” Risa cradled the tea, hotter than it looked; the wind kept the steam invisible.

Shiro closed his jacket, tying a twist in the cloth belt. “That look makes me wonder if you might jump.”

A cluster of advert-bots swarmed, sensing people. Boxes and orbs lingered for a few seconds, shifting around Risa. Unable to detect a NetMini or an ImDent to link to, the cluster flew apart and reoriented around Shiro. An explosion of holographic panels bathed him in light as seven basketball-sized orbs projected three to five panels each of various things they calculated he might want.

“I’m sorry, I just feel like the brass sent me here to look pretty for you. I don’t like being so exposed.” She could not help but stare at the open city.

He waved the bots off. They pivoted forward to mimic downcast glances. When Shiro did not change his mind, they rotated and flitted off one by one. “Are you referring to your dress or being out of your warren?”

She held the mug with both hands; each sip sent a line of warmth through her chest. “No one told me what to wear, so I guess the first half is my fault. I’m a sitting duck for a sniper out here if any of them realize who I am. How long is this going to last?”

“You aren’t losing your resolve are you?” He stepped closer. She did not shy away, and he put an arm around her. “The movement needs you.”

“I don’t like killing people.” She leaned into him. “For so long I was angry at them for taking my father. Now every time I kill I get sick when it sinks in.”

“Colonel Black was a good man.”

Her eyes widened, violet eyes aglow as her head snapped around to glare at him. “What?”

Shiro hardened his jaw, glancing at a distant tower bedecked with flashing lights. “In my line of work, it pays to learn who you are conducting business with. I had my people do some research.”

Risa held the purse to her chest under crossed arms. For no reason she could think of, she let him hold her while worry, guilt, and regret danced in her mind.

“You are a mysterious woman; one moment invisible and deadly, and the next timid. I half expected to lose a hand when I touched your shoulder.”

“I’ve spent most of my life alone. I’m edgy around people.” She picked at the half-empty mug, still unable to peel her stare away from the city so far below.

“You don’t want to be hurt again by loss.”

She looked to the right, away. “I almost killed a bunch of orphans last week.”

Shiro tensed his arm, offering her a shoulder upon which to lose her composure. She came close, but swallowed the urge to cry.

“No one scouted the tunnels. I should have checked, but I was in such a rush to get one of the bastards that ordered it.” Her voice slowed from its desperate cadence. “I brought them to the nest. We’re stretched thin already. I wanted to ask if you could help.”

He encouraged her through the door with an arm at her back. Inside, the air wrapped her in warmth. Shiro waved at the door, which closed in response.

“Your people need money?”

“Yes. For food, clothes, maybe some edu-pads; we have nothing for them. We can barely feed ourselves. It was stupid to bring them there… The streets are so dangerous.”

He walked past her to sit on the foot of the bed. “Running around the tunnels of Mars with a bunch of resistance soldiers does not seem like a good place for children either.”

“What else can we do? The UCF doesn’t care about them, not like on Earth where they bend over backwards… practically take your kids away if you yell at them too loud.”

Shiro laughed. “There’s far fewer Newsnet bots up here. On Earth, it’s all for PR. Up here the government has money issues. They don’t crave independence as your people do, but they do insist on a degree of sovereignty. The Martian senate is always at odds with their counterparts on Earth.”

“Grateful kids become loyal adults,” grumbled Risa, scowling at the dark red carpet.

“I am sorry no one was there for you. I may be able to help them, but there is always colony adoption. Some of those settlements even have plants, trees, and grass. Wouldn’t that be better than life in a cave?”

Risa gave him a hurt look for a moment, but sighed. “This is their home. I might have been on my own, but Mars is all I know. I would feel just as out of place on Earth as those kids would on a colony.”

“Clear sky, parents, and no one shooting at them? You would deny them that?”

“They’re not being inducted into the MLF. No one will shoot at them here.”

Shiro smiled. “Don’t delude yourself Risa. If they grow up among freedom fighters, they will adopt the cause.”

“I don’t know… You make it sound like leaving Mars is the only way for a person to be happy. We are proud of our home. In another few generations, the air will be like Earth. We won’t get there if everyone gives up.”

“Very well. I will see what I can do.” He got up and walked to a glass topped desk on a thin metal frame. “I have a favor to ask of your associates.” A man’s face appeared in hologram over the terminal above a drab red military uniform with gold epaulets.

“I don’t do assassinations.”

“I’m not asking you to.” He smiled, sipping his warm sake. “This would be a military operation. If it goes well, I might be able to persuade some of my contacts back on Earth to dig into the reasons behind your father’s unfortunate death. I would provide your men with weapons and transportation. Perhaps we can discuss the particulars over dinner?”

She rocked back on her heels while frowning at her boots. “Why do I think I am going to regret this?”

“Dinner, or my request?”

The strip of bare skin from his neck to his belt distracted her voice to a whisper. “Perhaps both.”

Updated Release Information

Greetings all

An update to the release calendar here. Caller 107 is trading places with Virtual Immortality to facilitate its submission to the School Library Journal for review (needed more time). This means that Virtual Immortality will be up next, releasing on May 19th.

Division Zero (ebook) is out now, many thanks to all who have purchased it. I am expecting the paperback version to become available on Wednesday this week (3/12).

Release Calendar:

Division Zero – Paperback
3/12/2014


Virtual Immortality
5/19/2014


Caller 107
7/22/2014


Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis
9/8/2014


Prophet of the Badlands: The Awakened Book 1
11/3/2014

Theocracide | James Wymore

In Theocracide, James Wymore creates a world where people have become dependent on technology. So much so they are terrified to take off the wearable computers that keep them immersed in a web of fantasy. No one cares what happens outside of their personal comfort zones, as everyone creates their own version of the perfect environment in which to live.

Jason Hunt sees through the charade. Looking at the real world without an electronic filter, he discovers that his father’s survivalist paranoia holds more truth than he had ever thought possible. A suspicious government continuously warns of the danger of alien invasion, but Jason begins to doubt that they even exist. He inherits a destiny he does not want, and is forced to choose between the good of society and the woman he loves.

Fast paced, thrilling, and thought provoking, Theocracide offers a chilling look into a future not so far removed from our own. Technology is portrayed as realistic and fantastic at once, eerie in how possible it seems. The emotions between Jason and his girl are deep and believable, and his relationship with his strange, fragmented family is portrayed expertly. Even having read this months ago, I still recall vivid details of the egg-cars and the beautiful scene where his love interest creates a work of art in a place filled with desolation.

Book Description:

Aliens bent on conquering the world are closing in on a weakened America. Epidemic alien-flu leaves people afraid to go outside their homes. The Undying Emperor is drafting Americans of all ages despite the plummeting population.

Nobody really cares.

Jason, like everyone else, lives in a fantasy facilitated by computer glasses that project images right over the parts of the world he doesn’t like. With a sports scholarship and an amazing new girlfriend, he leads his college team from one victory to another. As long as they ignore the constant barrage of terrible news, their lives would turn out to be perfect.

Until the government discovers his father’s secret. Until his artificially perfect world comes crashing down. Will Jason and his allies survive the manhunt long enough to finish his father’s work – to commit theocracide and set the world right?

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Theocracide-Jam...

James’s Page:

http://jameswymore.wordpress.com/

Divergent Fate #27

Innocent blue eyes widened, glimmering in the weak light of a dozen lanterns. The little girl tilted her head, perplexed at what could put such a terrified expression on Risa’s face.

“I’m Kree,” said the girl. “What’s your name?”

In the back of Risa’s mind, the sound of her father’s last scream filled the cave. Imaginary flames belched from three surrounding passages, engulfing the group of children. The drug kept her muscles twitching, giving her more energy than she could burn. Two seconds had been wasted.

“No…”

Risa whirled away with tears streaming out of her eyes. Boots crunched through loose dirt and gravel, each footfall reverberated through her body. Filaments of heat threaded through her limbs as the neuralware pushed her beyond the limits of a human being. She pumped her arms and tried to pace her breathing.

Up until then, her exit had been timed to allow for a brisk jog. Seven minutes would have left her safe in the city, perhaps even far enough away to avoid the pelting of stones and dust that would erupt into the open square. Risa skidded through a small borer-turn, a chamber where one of the old drillers decided to change course. Speed and loose ground conspired to send her toward the wall.

Her hands slapped into the rock, each bone in her fingers stung as she shoved herself away and flailed her arms in an effort not to fall. The air in her lungs burned, dusty grit scraped the inside of her throat with every breath. Sweat coated her inside the ballistic stealth suit, causing the material to lose its grip and slide over her skin.

Time shifted between dragging and racing. Small numbers floated at the periphery of vision. Her overloaded mind was aware of rhythmic flickers as they counted down, but was unable to grasp the meaning of the shapes. Fire shrouded the edges of her thoughts, riding a wave of insurmountable guilt. How could her people not have known there were orphans hiding in these old digs? Why didn’t she check?

Arriving at the top of the last downhill stretch brought dread and relief in equal parts. Risa rushed the straightaway, the mixture of synthetic energy and neuralware caused it to pass in a blur. She caught the doorframe at the bottom in an effort to avoid a bone-breaking wipeout. The brick-sized device, which she had planted with such righteousness upon the column, was no longer an avenging blade―it had become a devouring evil.

Her pause at the entrance lasted for a fraction of a second before she ran to the explosive. Fingers traced over the surface, activating a holographic terminal. In her accelerated state, each line and pixel unfurled in visible detail. The timer was last to appear. Four-inch tall numbers traced into the shape of 00:04.

Risa’s finger pierced the intangible rectangle through the word “abort.” The timer dropped to 00:03 as the button expanded into the form of a keypad. In two tenths of a second, she keyed in the sequence she programmed in six minutes and fifty-seven seconds ago. Her birth date: 090295. Traces of green filled in around the numbers. Just as the beautiful words “abort confirmed” formed in the panel of light, she shut down the neuralware.

Fatigue hit her with the weight of a lead apron. She slid down the pillar and curled up at the base, leaning against the rock. Patches of sweat shifted under the tight suit, but she made no effort to move against gravity’s wishes. The expectation of agony came and went, replaced with gratitude and awe at the quality of the speedware Pavo had obtained for her.

A minute passed; harsh, rapid breaths her only companion. Realization dawned that she had missed an opportunity to strike back at one of the men who had caused her father’s death. Aching arms wrapped around her right leg, drawing her knee to her forehead.

“I’m sorry, dad.”

Risa’s eyes shot open as the tingle spread down her back. She could not stop herself from crying as the presence spread throughout her body on tingling nerves.

Revenge is murder cloaked in the guise of justice. Eye for an eye leaves a world blind.

Raziel’s voice thundered through her mind, shaking the room as though the sheer volume of it could cause a cave in.

“I thought it was for the good of the people.” She looked at the ceiling, sobbing, feeling unworthy. “I don’t deserve to hear your voice. I’m just a killer.”

Do not apologize, Risa. Your actions prove far nobler than a mere act of vengeance.

Light caught her eye at the tunnel, the wavering glow of a feeble e-lantern approached. A tiny white hand came around the wall, followed by the face of a porcelain doll set with sapphire eyes. Dirt covered toes sank tentatively into the dirt and a tattered dress slid over a scraped knee. The sight of her made Risa cover her mouth with both hands and shake harder. She had sucker written all over her face, and the beggar girl sensed it.

Kree grinned and ran over. “No is a silly name.”

Risa shivered at the thought of the small device above her head. The child had followed her through the cave. Oh, my God. If I was too slow… She raised an arm, offering a hug the child accepted without hesitation.

I didn’t think I was going to make it.

“You have pretty purple eyes.”

“My name is Risa.” She held on while stroking the girl’s hair like a large toy doll.

You still went back, knowing you would not likely survive, said the voice of Raziel.

Risa shuddered, letting the girl lean back far enough to gaze at her face. She wiped a smudge from the child’s cheek before mounting guilt forced her to look away. Her mind tortured her with a daydream of standing in the city outside, watching the smoke and the rocks―and then seeing small bodies amid the debris.

I wouldn’t have wanted to.

* * *

The explosive pressed into her back, the corner nagging through the flexible armor with each step. Kree, grinning from ear to ear, held her hand and walked at her side. Behind her, a rag-clad group of fourteen children followed. Kree was the smallest, the eldest had just turned thirteen.

“Why are we going this way?”

The chirp of her voice tightened Risa’s jaw with guilt for a moment. “I didn’t want to go through the vents with so many of you. It’s a longer this way, but some of the fans are dangerous. There’s two broken ladders as well, which you’re too little to get past.”

“Oh.” Kree kicked a small stone. “You promised us food.”

“I did.” Risa smiled at her. “I think you and your friends should stay with us, where it’s safe. Those tunnels you were hiding in are dangerous.”

“They’re close to the square,” said a boy.

“MDF won’t chase us in there,” said an older girl.

Risa smiled. “The MDF would be more apt to chase you in those tunnels compared to where I live.”

For over an hour, she walked while telling them edited stories of how she had once lived as they do. They eventually coaxed the reason for her homelessness out of her, a murdered father. The rest of them had similar circumstances: mining accident, gang violence, war orphans, or just plain abandoned. By the time she halted at an old elevator shaft, it seemed that she had earned guarded trust. One by one, they descended the maintenance ladder along the right wall, to another tunnel.

As she helped Kree off the ladder at the bottom, an older girl gave her a suspicious glare. “Are we gonna get made into Tí-zhèn like you?”

Risa cringed. The street term referred to a person, usually a woman, loaded up with speed and reflex boosters. It often carried a negative connotation equivalent to calling someone an assassin, a thief, or a psycho killer. Sometimes it simply meant boosted for speed. Either way, the girl knew Risa was one―obvious given how fast she ran off―and she found it embarrassing.

“No. I volunteered. My friends will not force any of you to do anything.”

Satisfied, the waif joined her fellows and followed her. Kree insisted on holding her hand, not that Risa minded. The ground took on a mild incline leading up to a cross tunnel twenty meters in diameter. Metallic flavoring in the air hinted at an imperfect atmospheric seal somewhere connected.

“Smells like outside,” said Timothy, the oldest of their group. “You’re not taking us to the surface are you?”

“The outer door is two miles away.” Risa pointed left. “We’re going the other way.”

The glow of small lanterns and the accompanying curious whispers of children must have seemed like something out of a ghost story. Two men armed with rifles stood guard on either side of a heavy trapezoidal door, wide enough for a military vehicle. Sweat covered both of them and their weapons shook as they attempted to aim at the phantom lights.

“Calm down, Ralek. It’s just me,” said Risa.

The man on the left lifted his visor and squinted at the menagerie. “What the hell is this?”

“Reinforcements,” said Risa, her tone flat. “Open it.”

“See,” whispered one of the kids. “I told you it was her.”

At once, Risa felt the urge to smile and weep.

Inside, mechanics tended to a number of large rovers parked in berths. Sparks flew here and there amid the whirr of tools. A loud metal slam came from the back, and a few choice words emanated from the resulting dust cloud. She guided them through the garage like a teacher on field trip, filing them into the corridor at the far end where Garrison came sprinting up to her.

“Risa, what the fuck are you doing? What happened out there?”

“These kids were all over the tunnels. I… There was no way in hell I could.”

“You know we missed the target.”

“The base will still be there a couple of days from now. I”―she looked away, squeezing Kree’s hand―“don’t care about the other part as much. I’ll go back for the mission, but we need to take these kids in.”

“Whoa… you’re MLF,” said Timothy, causing a murmur through the older kids. Most of it sounded positive. “Badass.”

“This isn’t a damn orphanage, Risa.”

“You took me in,” she muttered, staring at him.

“That’s different. One kid I could assume responsibility for. What’s this, a dozen?”

“Fifteen.”

“Much better. Who’s going to handle them all?”

“Garrison, if we’re going to be the stewards of Mars, we have to welcome the ones that the rulers we despise cast aside. The UCF ignores them up here because there’s no Newsnet cameras to smile for and say ‘look how well we treat our kids.’ Up here, they’re a financial burden no one wants. I wouldn’t be surprised if they let them stay in those tunnels as a PR stunt in case we attacked.”

Kree laid it on thick, flashing a pouty face and sniffling.

“Our food reserves are―”

“I’ll steal a transport or four. I’m good at that.”

“They’re too young to fight.”

“I’m not telling you to send them to war. Just protect them. What the hell else are we fighting for if not for these kids? They, more than anyone, suffer the corruption of the regime we are trying so hard to break away from. The UCF doesn’t want them, and the ACC would enslave them.”

Garrison pinched the bridge of his nose. Risa smiled, she knew she had him.

“I’ll go back and demo the base after a thorough check of those tunnels for stragglers. The Colonel’s unimportant, we just need to take that base out.”

“The Colonel?” Garrison’s head shot up. “How the hell did you find that out?”

“C’mon,” she whispered, tugging at Kree’s arm. “Let’s get you fed and cleaned up.”

Garrison shifted as they walked past him. “Risa? How?”

She tossed her hair aside, grinning over her shoulder at him.

“An angel told me.”

Goodreads Giveaway

I am pleased to announce the Goodreads giveaway of Division Zero. Please stop by Goodreads and click for a chance to win a free copy

 

Division Zero Goodreads Giveaway



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Goodreads Book Giveaway








Division Zero


by Matthew S. Cox

Giveaway ends April 01, 2014.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Division Zero FB Release Party

I am having a release party for Division Zero on Facebook, this upcoming Friday, March 7. Leslie will be running a number of games with prizes. Please join me online from 5pm – 7pm EST.

https://www.facebook.com/events/683847284991086

Divergent Fate #26

Confining walls pressed in on Risa, trapping her body heat and making her breaths echo as if all of Mars could hear her. At the bottom of a deep shaft, she pulled her knees to her face and tried not to let her mind wander into the past. These vents were a lot roomier years ago. Shiro’s face drifted out of the darkness and smiled at her. Violet glow slid down the dull steel as she gazed at the floor. The outside world was an alien landscape full of clueless people who did not know or care they were enslaved. She had walked out in the open, met him at a place where normal people go.

The protest of metal walls reverberated into the distance as she went from sitting to kneeling. At a mental urge, her cybernetic eyes displayed the current time, thirteen-hundred hours two minutes. Numbers formed a small blue firefly in the corner of her vision. Close enough. She crawled forward, hands scratching through grainy patches of sand. Every so often her shoulder or butt rubbed along the top. The time when she could run through the subterranean vents with a slight stoop was years past.

The businessman from Earth had not been subtle with his roaming eyes. Garrison had all but dangled her as bait, hoping he would bite. Shiro had proven to be more reserved than she anticipated. His interest was obvious, but her outward coldness kept him at arm’s length. Her progress slowed as her beloved tunnels morphed from shelter to cage. Could he offer me an escape from the killing? She halted, staring her hands against the dark surface. The people of Mars deserved to set their own course. Her life had taken a turn she could not unwind. She detested having to end some lives to free others, but who better than a broken person to do such things.

Some of them even deserved it.

The mood of being in a thin-walled prison lessened at the idea this vent was part of the old city, much smaller than modern ones. She crawled for a mile with only her doubt, guilt, and anger to keep her company. Non-functional ratkiller bots littered the passage, dust-covered and forgotten where their power cells had died. Up ahead, angular stripes of light pierced a shifting cloud of dust. Risa peered through the vent slats into a dim section of rock-walled tunnel with plastisteel ground plates. Once intended as a street, it now played home to an array of trash. Girders, unused pipes, and trash boxes provided plenty of cover from the still-active city in the distance. She put her hand on the grating, the bars keeping her out of society.

Why am I getting soft?

Frowning, Risa nudged the cover out of place and slithered on her belly into the stagnant dark. After propping it back in place, she crept to the largest box and peeked around the corner. Forty yards away, the alley opened into a modest square thick with tourists. A few dozen shops flooded it with light and music, and a mixture of foods lingered in the air―mostly garlic. An array of air filters, lights, and holographic traffic signs sprouted out along a ceiling of bare crimson rock.

Behind her, the drab grey metal walls gave way to rough-hewn stone. This alley had served as an emergency access point for excavation tunnels which no longer operated. No mining, no drilling, no science expeditions. Had to be the military base above it. Why else would they abandon the dig? She backed away from the alley, turning as she jogged a few steps to the already-opened blast door. From the amount of sediment, it had been that way for months. Guess they were hoping for a dome, or terraforming. People want to have sky over their heads.

Crimson sand spread out from the tunnel into the street, tracked with the imprint of small feet, many of them shoeless. She took a knee, tracing her fingers through the shape of one. They shouldn’t be playing in the tunnels. Risa felt a tug in her gut; wondering if they were beggars that prowled the courtyard― or thieves. A life she might have led had she not been too afraid to leave the vents. For a moment, she listened at the tunnel. Amplified ears found nothing but the lament of wind. She stood and walked through the door, switching her eyes to the monochrome green of night vision.

Beggars and thieves don’t kill people. The romantic thought of a kind stranger taking her by the hand to get something to eat lasted for a minute. It spiraled into the depravity of what really would have happened to a girl on the streets as she grew into her teens with no cyberware, no way to defend herself―nothing to do but be used.

Garrison and the MLF did not seem as bad.

Thinking about her route brought up an amber-tone map in her field of view. A hand grabbing at thin air slid it to the left corner. A small dot crept through the tunnel as she walked. For the first twenty meters, she studied the ground in search of more small footprints. Finding none, she got up to a jog. An incline brought the entry tunnel down to a large manmade cavern that still bore the scars of tracked excavators and giant drill units. Several offshoots led into emerald darkness. She slipped a small infrared flashlight out of her shoulder harness and followed the map to the second passage.

Jogging became walking, which degenerated to trudging under the weight of her thoughts. Never before had she doubted her resolve to free Mars. What was it about Shiro that scratched even a tiny glint of freedom into her psyche? No, Garrison is right. I can have a normal life, but not until this war is over. How can I feel sorry for myself when many thousands suffer?

Risa kept glancing at the floating map as she made her way deeper under the Martian surface. This tunnel went outside of the boundary of the city just as their intelligence claimed it would. Before long, the phantom outline of the military complex slid over the virtual map. This target did not have an enormous Cryomil tank to which she could affix the explosive; however, the tunnels would collapse and create a sinkhole.

Beneath a circular silhouette of a large surface building, Risa came to a halt at another intersection chamber. Far smaller than the first, its overall shape suggested an old driller unit created it as a place to turn around. Three tunnels led out; one the way she came and two others formed a Y at the other end. A fourteen-foot thick central column looked like the perfect mounting point for the charge.

The shockwave of an NE8 detonation down here would throw material a hundred meters or more into the air and create a cave in that would swallow enough of the base and render it useless. Just enough damage to be useless would make it more expensive to repair than if they had just vaporized it. One of the men who ordered her father’s murder was somewhere above her right now, a hundred meters of stone between them. Her hands trembled as she took the deadly package off her back and squeezed two small buttons on its sides. Rage, anticipation, and a healthy dose of fear at the thing she held. How long had she waited for revenge. Tiny spikes snapped out of it at the four corners. She held the brick-sized charge over the column.

“This is for you, Dad.”

Whack. A thrust of her arm tamped it into place.

“Garrison, are you there?”

A moment of silence passed before his faltering virtual image appeared. Color-shifts drifted in bands across his smile. “Copy.”

“I’m here. Are the birds in the nest?”

“Hang on, checking with the spotters.” Garrison’s image vanished to the right beyond the invisible border of a nonexistent screen. His muttering on other channels lingered for a moment before he returned. “Birds are in the nest, give them a worm. Looks like they aren’t planning to stay for long. Ten minutes at most.”

“Copy.”

Risa took a thin sheet of plasfilm from her belt and unrolled it. A white rubber dot the size of a thumbnail sat at its center. She pulled the sleeve of her ballistic suit away from her left wrist, peeled the derm from the backing, and pressed it into place.

Within seconds, the rush of Usagi-3 filled her body with energy. Her arms and legs twitched with an overabundance of vigor. She faced the brick and poked the button, starting a seven minute countdown. Garrison’s image disintegrated as she sprinted out of the chamber. The path in had been a touch over a mile, a distance she could do in five minutes with some spare seconds.

Risa ran full tilt for three minutes, until motion up ahead caused her to skid to a halt on her heels. Rag-clad children filtered out of side shafts; grubby and thin, they stared at her with wide, curious eyes. At least two dozen small figures shimmered in the eerie glow of portable lanterns held aloft.

They live down here.

A little black-haired girl, maybe six years old, smiled and waved at her. “Hi.”

Risa looked over her shoulder. “Oh…” Shit.

 

Division Zero Cover Reveal

Whee! Curiosity Quills has unveiled the cover for my upcoming novel, Division Zero!

Check it out here:

http://curiosityquills.com/division-z...

The book itself will be available on March 7th via Amazon

Divergent Fate #25

A faceless crowd flowed around Risa on both sides. Head down, she drifted among them as invisible as a person could be in plain sight. Elysium Square occupied the heart of the city, a seven story deep pit of humanity with shimmering neon walls studded with dozens of shops burrowed into the rock. She shot a mournful glance at people navigating the elevated walkways. We’re ants in a farm now. Keep us busy, buying and consuming. Her gaze drifted to a young girl wearing strips of light in strategic places, a hologram dancing at the door of a boutique. Watch the pretty girl dance; don’t pay attention to the government. Risa scowled, and looked down at her dusty boots. Do any of these people even want freedom? I doubt they’d know what to do with it.

A twenty-foot angel, shaped from indirium had once dominated the center with its metallic grandeur. Now, layers of scrap and shipping cartons concealed its form, spaces where the unwanted made their nests.

Greedy faces peered out from the dark blue-grey metal, staring at the young woman keeping her head down. The weight of their appraising eyes made her feel like a mark. They would steal money or sex, or both. She let her head loll to the left and flashed an expression of detached disinterest. The violet glow in her eyes sent recognition into the minds of the thieves. Anticipatory leering became respectful nods, and they receded into the mess of plasfilm cartons and tattered tarpaulins.

She left the square, walking through an MDF checkpoint as calm as any other citizen. A faint smile curled her lips. Troops did not react to her. Their flat-faced dull crimson helmets were featureless save for four tiny lenses, two at each temple. The soldiers couldn’t see her, nor could the citycams. Raziel would protect her.

The passage out of the square narrowed to a two-lane street; some fool on Earth many generations ago foresaw the use of cars here. She shook her head, laughing at the thought of it. There were too many people walking through the path designed for vehicles, too many storefronts encroaching into the road. Maybe in Arcadia, the above-ground jewel of UCF-Mars. That city was just like the ones of Earth: huge, rotten on the inside, and controlled by a tiny fraction of the population that had no connection to the rest of it.

Several streets and a side alley later, the air filled with the mixed fragrances of silt, salt, and broth. Denmark wanted to meet above ground this time. What’s he up to? Holographic Chinese characters flickered and danced above a booth, tinting most of the one-lane passage in shades of blue and green. Hot, steamy air washed over her face as she settled into one of six stools facing the counter.

A spritely Asian girl, perhaps ten years old with skin as white as Risa’s, bounced up on the other side. Splatters and smears of various colors painted her well-worn clothing. She seemed exhausted but happy at the same time. An old man in the back, grandfather perhaps, yelled rapid words at her in another language, making her smile wider. He, too, looked like a native Marsborn. The word “Chinese” appeared at the bottom of Risa’s vision, next to a “Translate?” prompt. A swipe of her eyes pushed it away to the side. The girl gave Risa an expectant look and waited all of eight seconds before giggling.

“Morning, Lady. Are you hungry?”

How many people will die in this fight? She looks so innocent. She has no idea who I am. Hungry? No, not really. “Number four, please.”

The girl nodded, grabbed a bowl, and assembled a portion of noodle soup before returning through a cloud of fishy steam. Risa gathered the provided chopsticks and pushed the red-white lumps around the broth until they turned back into shrimp.

The child held up Risa’s credstick. “Do you want a drink?”

“Iced green tea?”

As the girl reached into a cabinet behind her to retrieve one silver can, an enormous man in a black coat perched on the stool to Risa’s left. The girl charged the stick and set it back on the counter by the bowl before greeting the new arrival. He ordered beef noodles.

Risa made eye contact via his reflection on the drink fridge. Muscles along his shoulders and chest seemed ready to burst from their cloth confines at any moment. Tiny, round sunglasses hid his eyes, and his brush-cut of white hair turned azure in the light of the sign above them.

“I had my doubts he would show up.” Risa gathered noodles on her chopsticks. “Hello, Krause.”

He nodded, paid for his food, and took two huge mouthfuls. Risa shuddered; hers was still too hot to do anything but take brief slurps. He smiled, two clear noodles slithered through his lips and vanished.

“My employer is concerned at the sudden absence of your associate.”

Risa leaned forward on her elbows, still teasing the soup. “I was worried meeting out in the open might’ve been a set up. Guess that makes us even.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

“Where is your friend?” asked Krause.

Steam wafted up from her bowl, resembling a question mark. The din of the street market seemed to fade into the background as she stared into the rolling fog. Risa blinked as the little girl zoomed by with someone else’s food.

“He has other obligations.”

“With the MDF, yes?” He inhaled a large wad of noodles and meat.

“Yes.” She risked a bite, finding it still too warm to indulge. “There are others as well.”

“Denmark has some concerns.”

Chopsticks stabbed noodles. “He is no risk.”

“Ahh, yes.” Krause tilted his bowl back, draining the last of the broth. “That little society.”

She gathered noodles into her mouth, eyes downcast and quiet a moment after swallowing. “Your people care only about money; I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Empires rise and fall.” Krause sat back and folded his arms, quiet while the child collected his dish. “It doesn’t matter who sits on the throne. Everyone needs money.”

Risa drew in a breath, shifting toward him.

“Relax, Miss Black. Your enemies are governments. They do not need us as a source for toys. We are not playing both sides.” He removed a package from under his coat and set it on the counter by her. She eyed the bundle of dingy blue cloth wrapped about a bar the size of a brick.

“What’s that?”

Krause leaned the side of his head on a fist. “Your gift.”

“That small? The last one―”

“Was not NE8.” He patted it. “This will do the job your bosses desire, and you don’t need someone to carry it for you. That little termite is more potent than the last one.” He gripped her hand as she reached for the cloth. “Not here. Too many eyes.”

“I need to know what I’m carrying.”

“Standard M-18 fuse. Up to 2 hours. Pressure and vibration sensor as well. It will remember your strength, touch, and body mass. If anyone else lays a finger on it, it will solve all their problems.” Krause grinned.

The girl collected Risa’s empty bowl and bounded into the back where she put it into a machine. Working so hard, so young. At least she’s happy. Her grandfather patted her on the head, a moment of affection that helped them get through the day. Risa, unable to watch, swiveled on the stool to face the street.

“Am I to hand you credits without looking?”

Krause waved the child over, ordering another cold tea. Once she was out of earshot, he stooped close, whispering. “Denmark may have his reputation, but even he fears you.”

She stared at the ground. I am not an assassin. I fight for higher truths. She put her hand on the brick, squeezing it, exploring the contours of the object beneath the cloth. “Fine.”

From her belt, she removed a small credstick and slipped it to Krause. He peeked at it, raised an eyebrow, and dropped it into his jacket pocket.

“A pleasure doing business with you again.”

The man got up, offered a curt nod, and joined the endless flow of humanity in the street. A peculiar mix of satisfaction and shame came over her at such a huge man seeming afraid of her. She picked up the bomb, holding it in her lap, flicking her thumbs at the greasy cloth. Risa thought about the flames, about the last sound she had ever heard her father make―a scream. If Garrison’s intel was right, at least one of the people responsible for her shattered life would receive the little gift in her hands. One tear squeezed out of her closed eyes. Killing solves nothing. She opened her eyes.

However, it will make me feel better.