Volume 2: almost finished

Finally! After many months of work, I've finished the 2nd draft of volume 2 in The Runaway series. There's been a lot of changes in the story; the main thrust has remained the same, but I wasn't happy with how it was going, so once I'd finished that first craft, it was back to the drawing board. Now my proof reader (aka my fiancee) is going to read through it and tell me what she thinks. Hopefully all good, though I realise it still needs work before it's even close to publishable.

I also now have a title in mind for volume 2: Hidden Depths.

Whilst I give volume 2 a bit of a rest, I'm going to go back to Serial Psyence. I have the rest of the flashbacks which run through the story to write, then that will be redrafted, and I can then integrate the flashbacks into the main story.

Volume 1 of The Runaway series will be going on sale in the next few months. I'll let you know when, as it will be in time for the publication of volume 2.

Quick update

My it's been a while since was last here, hasn't it?

So, what's happened since my last post? Well, I've changed jobs, and now work at the university again (hooray!), I had an excellent christmas and new year with family and friends. Oh! And I finished the first draft of volume two.

I've got a long way to go before I'm even ready to show even a sample of the story. Problem is though, I'm also getting the ideas ready for volume three. I also still have Serial Psyence to finish and rewrite too. So much to do, so little time.

Before I go, I'd like to say thank you to anyone who picked up The Runaway during its sale at the end of last year. I hope you enjoy the story.

The Runaway

The Runaway has been published! You can buy it now in ebook form from that rather fancy online retailer, Amazon.

Check it out here:
Amazon UK

And here:
Amazon US

Also, the book is going to be free every Monday for the next few weeks, on the following days:

19 November 2012

26 November 2012

03 December 2012

10 December 2012

So if you're interested in taking a look at the first in a new sci fi adventure series, go take a look.

About the Runaway:
Thousands of years have passed since the fall of the old human empire. Thanks to the missionaries of the Order of Sanctified Light, civilisation has returned. But with it come all of the old problems, as rival sectors compete against each other in a perpetual war for territory and resources, while the Order wages a religious crusade to bring the disparate regions under its iron rule, and rid the galaxy of the evils of cybernetics.

Tovar, a cyber-boosted private protector on the distant world of New Erised, has been disillusioned by the war. He has fought and lost, and seen his home world fall to the Order. He came to New Erised on the promise of riches. Riches he has yet to get a taste of.

Then Tovar gets his latest contract: to escort two clients to the lunar spaceport. Seems simple enough, except one of the clients is not what they seem, and there are some very unpleasant individuals who are desperate to retrieve their property. To see his contract through, Tovar will be pushed to his limit - and beyond.

PS. to those of you who already took a chance on it during its first free promotion, enjoy!

That thing you do

You know, there's one question I often get asked when I tell people that I'm a writer. I'm sure it's a pretty common question directed at every writer, whether they be an award winning and famous, or just starting out. That question is this:

"Where do you get your ideas from?"

There's an anecdote I remember reading a while ago, though I can't remember which writer said it. It's one of my favourite answers to the question. The below is an approximation of what was said, as I can't remember it off by heart, but here goes:

When asked by someone, where they got their ideas from, the writer in question replied that there's a little old lady in Cornwall, and if you want an idea for a story, you send her your request in the post along with a cheque, and she duly replies, the story plotted out for you neatly, which she types out on an old-fashioned manual typewriter. No one knows who she is, only that her address is passed from author to author, each one sworn to secrecy to never tell a non-author (or interviewer) who she is, on pain of death.

It's complete toss, of course, but I think it's a brilliant explanation. (oh, and whoever it was who said it, please feel free to tell me!).

I think, however, I'll stick to the truth.

Where do I get my ideas from? I don't know. Probably from somewhere deep in my subconscious, where it bubbles away like a hotpot, every so often allowing fresh ideas to shoot forth like bright flares in the night. Without the hyperbole, they just appear. Sometimes fully formed, sometimes the process is a little slower, developing over the course of hours or days. Sometimes months. For example, I've recently started thinking about what I'm going to do with the characters of my soon to be published novella, The Runaway. All of a sudden, I had an idea for a whole novel, which I immediately wanted to start planning.

Maybe I do have the address for the little old lady, but if that's the case, I ain't telling.

Busy, busy, busy

I apologise now for the scatterbrained post this week.

The title says it all really.

Still no sign of work, but in the mean time, I decided to start work on a novella. Which I finished last night, following five whole days of solidly working on it.

I'm not normally that productive, tending to get out about 2,000 words a day, but I was in the grip of a writing fever. The proverbial 'zone'. So I wrote like Ty the Tazmanian devil on speed, putting out an average of around 4,000 words per day. For a couple, it was more like 6,000.

But it's finished. Or at least, the first draft is. I'll give it a couple of weeks before I go back to it, so I'll be back to Serial Psyence. I didn't want to stop working on the book, but this story really got its claws into me, and wouldn't let go.

When I've finished editing, and it's ready to be published, I plan to do so through Amazon's KDP Select scheme, which will allow me to set the book's price to zero for select periods. As this is the first in a series of novellas about the characters featured in the first volume, I felt it would make a good taster for the rest.

For me, it's a way to test the water with a universe I first envisioned almost eight years ago during my second year at university. It was inspired by a lecture in my Theory in Archaeology module, on Evolution and Creationism, which gave me a 'what if' scenario. What if, somewhere in the distant future, we'd lost our homeworld, and came to the belief that we evolved on a world close to the core of the galaxy. A belief which became central to the primary religion, and anyone who dared postulate another origin was branded a heretic. Not too dissimilar to certain times in our past, of course. And so was born the short story, Distant Origin.

I've not worked on anything in that universe for quite a while. I've not felt ready to, if I'm honest. So writing this novella and the subsequent series is a way for me to explore it in preparation for a book in a few years time.

So what is this novella about, you ask?

It's called The Runaway.

On the distant world of New Erised, Tovar Vash In'dur Sing Neiral is hired to escort two people, a man and a woman, to the lunar spaceport. It seems a simple enough assignment, except his clients are wanted people, and one is more than they appear to be...

Hunger for Adventure

Last week I went to see the Hunger Games. Having never read the book by Suzanne Collins, I didn't quite know what to expect. Previews had purported that it's main character was a far better role model than a certain Miss Swan, which brought up all sorts of comparisons with Twilight, but then I read that it was based partly on roman gladiatorial combat, set in a post-apocalyptic world. The icing on the cake was that the main character, Katniss Everdeen, was being played by Jennifer Lawrence.

 

I have to admit, it was rather good. Katniss is a strong female character who rises to the challenge facing her, plus she's a crack shot with that bow of hers. The film did drag a little in places, especially in the run up to the actual Hunger Games itself, but once that got going the action more than made up for it. I'll certainly be buying it when it comes out.

For me, one of the great things about the Hunger Games is as I've said, it has a very, very strong female character, which I really like. It's something that I tend to use in my own writing. I do find it difficult getting the female perspective (unsurprising, being male), and Heather happily points out any missteps I make, but the core of those characters remains. I've never been fond of sappy, weak-willed female characters, which is probably representative of the women in my life, who are all strong.

Speaking of my writing, Serial Psyence is moving at a steady pace, and I'm less than a thousand words off 50,000. I think it's about time we had another murder.

Wild Ride is pretty much done, as short stories go. I've edited it, removing a few excessive heys and darlings, and I'll be getting ready to send it off soon, once I've made a couple more passes.

That's Life

Building characters for a book is no easy task.

I've tried various methods for building their backstory, even tried writing a CV for them, and answering a series of questions about them. To be honest, I find them really boring and I'm often sat there trying to think up some interesting titbit. So I don't bother any more.

I find that often, a character will come up with their own backstory, often with surprising consequences.

For example, whilst writing Serial Psyence, one of my main characters decided he was a recovering drug addict. And not just any drug, oh no. He used Dust: a synthetic, psychic enhancement drug which can give even mundane normals a low level telepathic ability. The downside is the effects are short-lived, and the drug is horrendously addictive. How this is going to affect things, I don't know, as I hadn't planned for this. As I write the first draft, I imagine it'll rear its ugly head again.

To me, one of the most exciting things about writing is the way your own creations can surprise you in ways you never expected. To another writer, I expect that sounds quite normal, but to anyone else, I bet that sounds bizarre. Afterall, these aren't living people; they only exist in your head. That may as be, but they feel real, they feel like they have a mind of their own. I suppose that's the genius of an active imagination.

And yes, I probably look like I've just grown another head. Hey, at least it's someone interesting to talk to.

Characters Go Their Own Way

Characters often like to do their own thing. You have their whole life planned out - in so far as it exists in the course of a story - and they go throw a spanner in the works by deciding that's not for them.

I've described it before as like having real people sitting in my head, telling me what to do. I'm not crazy. I promise. And they only tell me what to put on screen. So far, anyway.

I'm still working on the edit for Wild Ride, and finding that Celine has new ideas for her dialogue. It's a bit like she's whispering it devilishly in my ear. She's that kind of woman.

As characters go, Celine El'Teague, ex-movie starlet is one for whom I have a complete picture. Physically, she looks rather like your typical 1940's starlet with a curvy figure. Think Hayley Atwell, but with honey-blonde hair. Personality wise, she's strong, independent and knows what she wants. She can be very sarcastic.

In short, Celine is fun to write, and I'm really enjoying working on the short story. But when it's done, I'm going back to Serial Psyence. There's a killer on the loose on Callisto. And Patrick needs my help to catch him.

All quiet on the Western Front

Serial Psyence is pootling along along nicely still. It's been an interesting week for the book, as this week I attempted to write from the perspective of a 12-year-old girl. Not something I'm familiar with, if I'm honest. but I was 12 once, so I went with that. I'm not entirely sure it's turned out okay, but that's something I can fix in the edit. Right now, it's more important that I get the story down, so I should reach my goal of 40,000 words by the end of today.

Yes, I count words. Some writers do, some don't. I do. It's not that I'm measuring my progress ... actually, it is. I like to see how much I've done in a day (I have an aim to write between 700-900 words per day), and if I reach my target, then I feel good about myself. If I get lucky enough to write as my full time job, my goal will naturally increase.

I've also got a short story to edit. If anyone has read Liberator's ruin (if not, then you can get it here: Amazon and here: Smashwords) then you are familiar with the crew of the good ship Storm Brother. Well, the short story I'm writing is about to get a major edit next week, so I hope to be entering it for this anthology in a few weeks.

Oh, have I mentioned that Nathaniel will be in drag?

Huzzah!

It's Friday! And I'm on holiday all next week, so double huzzah!

Now that the celebrations are over, back to business.

I've been told about an event called book in a week, and as it's all to do with sci fi, I'm working on another short story to enter into it. No idea how it'll go, seeing as I don't tend to write many short stories (I've found it really difficult to think up plots that work as a short story), but I think it'll be good for me to try.

After much deliberation, consideration, dithering and not being entirely satisfied, I have decided to make a few changes to the location for Serial Psyence. It's still set on Callisto, and in an arcology, but the arcology itself has undergone a transformation in my mind.

Originally, I conceived the arcology to be a massive, domed city, built inside a crate, but over time, I started to have a few issues with that concept.

The dome seals the city from the weak atmosphere on Callisto, keeping the Earth-like atmosphere inside. Yes, the dome is made from a superstrong material, but what happens if the dome is damaged? Everyone dies. There were a lot of open spaces inside, the idea being that it was like an Earth city had been transported to the Jovian moon, then covered in a glass shell. But that shell is a weak link, and let's face it, why the hell would you build such a fragile object?

Then there's the problem of transport. Surely, when building a self-contained city, you would work transport into the strucure, not rely on cars and bikes and the sort of things we use on Earth. That's limited thinking on my behalf.

So back to the drawing board I went.

And then I came across this. The Shimizu pyramid arcology.

Having read up on the design principles, and the way the transport links are integrated into the structure itself, I started to rethink the Callisto arcology. So now I've got something perhaps a little less fantastical, but nonetheless amazing. I don't know about you, but I'd love to live in this technical marvel.

A self-contained city, twelve times the size of the pyramids of giza? Check. Jupiter in the sky day and night? Check. When can I book my ticket?

Thoughts on the week

Been a bit of a rubbish week, I have to admit. Heather had an interview for a job closer to home, which would have been great as it would reduce her fuel expenses almost by half. Unfortunately, the place wasn't all we hoped it would be, and they turned her down.

I also found out that the application I submitted for a job has been turned down. However, thinking about it, I didn't want the job anyway, having left the department it was in several years ago, at the time to move on to better things (as it turned out, those better things didn't materialise, and the recession hit big time).

If you think about it, maybe it's not such a bad week after all. I mean, neither myself or Heather wanted the jobs, did we? So, if you think about it, the silver lining in an otherwise dreary week, was that we didn't get jobs we didn't want.

Huh.

Anyway, I'm rambling.

Writing!

Serial Psyence continues apace, and I should reach 30,000 words before the week is out.

I've also finished the short story, now titled 'Wild Ride', and will start editing it next week. I'm hoping to enter it into a competition to be published in an anthology. As the deadline for submission is in June, I think I've got plenty of time. I might even be able to come up with a couple more.

What do you think?

Short and sweet

I'm taking a short break from Serial Psyence for the next few days as I work on a short story set in the same world as Liberator's Ruin - in fact, a story about how Celine joined the Storm Brother. It's all very exciting and full of action. Possibly because I just felt like writing something like that. There's not a lot of action in Serial Psyence at the moment (which probably means, after 26,000 words, it's probably due some), but in a way, that's also down to the nature of the story, being a crime thriller. Only set in space. With telepaths.

Anyway, short story! It's been a while since I last attempted to write one, so I thought I'd have another go. I've never quite seemed able to work to short story lengths, so when I try, I often end up with something close to 10,000 words. Which is a bit too long. I also find coming up with an applicable plot that works within such a small amount of words difficult to do. But, the idea of how Nathaniel and Celine met was never going to be a long story. The two of them thrown together, and the outcome being she ends up as crew. The journey, however, is turning out to be a little bumpy.

I'm already 4,000 words in. Let's hope there's only a few thousand more. Knowing myself, something will come up, and that'll change.

Update on Serial Psyence

I'm now 26,500 (ish) words into Serial Psyence.

Finished the murder scene today. I started it a little earlier than planned, as I like to work on scenes in a logical order, but it felt right, so I rolled with it. And proceeded to bisect the victim.

Honestly, where do I get these ideas from?

Moving on ... I've got some other scenes that need to go before the murder, as that is supposed to come at the end of a chapter. One of which involves a pilot of a multi-million UC shuttle, and it's been a couple of chapters since the last flight so I feel justified having another.

That Monday feeling

The problem with only writing five days a week is that after a two-day rest period (a.k.a. the weekend), when I come back to writing on Monday, I've forgotten quite where I was, and then have to spend precious writing time getting back up to speed. By Friday, I'm on the ball, only to have to start all over again the following week!

For example, I've been detailing the backstory for one of the main characters, Investigator Patrick North. Before he joined the CSS (Callisto Security Service), he was a Detective Inspector in the Mariner Arcology CID on Mars. In the first version, he was involved in the investigation of a notorious series of murders, and the second an uprising that ended with the arcology having to be evacuated. That's what I get for making these things up on the fly, I guess, and not sitting down to do backstories. Nevermind, it's only the first draft, and this is the sort of thing I'll fix when I sit down to start the second draft.

Today I started work on a murder. I hadn't planned to, but things kinda went that way, deviating away from my set plan. It's actually a scene for a bit later in the chapter, so I'm going to have to backtrack a little bit when I've finished.

As I'm writing more than I expected, but less than I'd like (the problem with having a full time job and writing during my lunch break), I think it's about time I started writing in the evening. Having said that, I'll be getting Kingdoms of Amalur in a couple of weeks, and as Heather has expressed rather a lot of interest in it, I'll need something to do when she's playing it. 

Learning the hard way

You’re never quite as good at editing your own work as you think you are, and that’s a lesson I’ve learnt the hard way.

When I published Liberator’s Ruin last year, opting to go it alone after I realised that no self-respecting agent would take a chance on the book, owing to its lack of marketability (steampunk fantasy is a relatively small sub-genre, after all), I thought I’d caught every last problem. True, I thought there would be some that would slip through, but not a great deal.

And then the reviews started to come in. they praised the story and the characters, but criticised the editing, often finding missing punctuation, speech marks, sentences that didn’t end, or misspelled words. Going through myself, I think I found several hundred errors. Then, some very nice people I’d met on Goodreads offered to provide me with a list of problems they had found. Some were down to language differences, but in the end there were probably over a thousand errors.

For a published work, that’s cringe-worthy. And in a moment of chagrin, I realised that I was guilty of the same sin I criticised a lot of self-published work for doing: releasing what was in actuality, unfinished work.

I’ve tidied up the book since, and with luck, the number of errors left in Liberator’s Ruin are now just a tiny fraction. I’ve learnt a valuable lesson for my next book.

Never assume your work is perfect, and always get someone to proofread who doesn’t know the book.

I am Legion

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes. I was saying that a book is organic, that it lives. And it does. Books often write themselves - not literally, of course, the writer is still the one who has to put pen to paper, or finger to key.

It varies from writer to writer, but it's still true. I like to plan my stories out before I get down to writing them. From past experiences, I've found that if I don't, I end up getting stuck or lost, the story falters and I put it to one side, forgotten as I move onto something more interesting. For a time, I actually wondered if I could ever finish a story. And that was where Liberator's Ruin came in. It was a test for me, to see if I actually had the patience to stick with a story from beginning to end. Three years later, I passed the test.

But it was the plan that helped. The backbone on which the rest of my story hung.

Despite using a plan, I still see writing as organic. I never adhere to the plan rigidly, it just informs the path of the story, gives me direction. But how the story builds, well, that happens when I put my hands on my keyboard and start writing.

What impetus causes that to happen, prey tell? Why, the characters, dear boy, the characters. They're almost living, breathing beings (albeit ones who live in my head), running around doing things. Sometimes they do things I didn't expect, and when that happens, it's breathtaking. And a little annoying. I'll have this whole routine planned, and what do they do? They bloody ignore it!

Yes, I know that makes me sound crazy - I once told someone that writing is a bit like having lots of different people in your head who seem very much alive, at which point she gave me a funny look and took several steps back, as if I'd suddenly grown a second head.

Hey, what can you do? At least I'll never get lonely.

New Look

So, I got bored with the old look, and decided it was time to update. I think it looks quite nice, actually. Very futuristic and clean.

It's pretty dull outside here in Leicester, and I'm rather hoping it doesn't rain. The forecasters said it would, but let's face it, you can't trust them. They mean well, but half the time, they couldn't forecast their way out of a paper bag. It's not their fault; they can only work with the information they're given.

And this is where the rain that was forecasted does happen, and I get soaked on my way home.

Anyway, had a very productive day yesterday. Managed to hammer out nearly 1,400 words of Serial Psyence, during which, people were shot, subjected to explosive decompression, and a girl saw herself die. It sounds horrible I know, but considering the subject matter - a serial killer - what do you expect? I'm quite pleased with how it went, though after reading up on the effects of vacuum on the human body, I realise it needs a bit of work. Nevermind, I had lots of fun writing it. Which makes me sound a bit sick. Bugger.

On the plus side, the story is progressing very well, and I'm making much better progress than I was with the flashbacks. I don't know why, but I feel much more comfortable with a setting I'm completely unfamiliar with. whenever I try using a setting I know, I just seem to falter, as what I know about the place conflicts with what I'm trying to imagine. Using a setting that's wholly imaginary (like an arcology on Callisto) is so much easier.

Nine weeks into my new job now! That's gone quick. Only four more weeks until Christmas. Have I done my Christmas shopping yet? No. That's planned for this weekend, when I'm going shopping in Birmingham with Heather. She has decided she wants clothes for Christmas, and personally, I don't trust myself to buy the right ones. And so I'm off clothes shopping. Yay?

A short interlude

Well, turns out it wasn't as easy to get back into writing sci fi as I hoped. Not too impressed with my first go at the next scene, but hopefully I'll get it posted soon.

Doesn't help that I went on holiday to Centre Parcs, and we still haven't finished moving.

Right, no more excuses! I'm on holiday from work next week; a perfect time to do some writing. And that's what I'll do.

I hope.

Some other news though! I've just done my very first author interview.

Pop over to jeanzbookreadnreview for a look.

We should've run

Captain Lorenzo Sheldon was strapped in at his station when the Cat’s Eye reverted 10,000 kilometres above Sintra station. The indistinct blue glow of the shuntspace conduit abruptly disappeared, replaced by the harsh light reflected off Heathcliff’s thick atmosphere. There was no sign the tiny pinpricks of distant stars; the immense bulk of the gas giant stretched far beyond the edge of the bridge viewport, giving a fabulous view of streamers of blue and brown and red and cream clouds, tearing across the face of the planet at hundreds of miles per hour. Each one many times the size of the Cat’s Eye, and more than capable of tearing the transport apart were Lorenzo stupid enough to venture into the raging torrent.

           

Ridiculously, he was suddenly struck by the mad urge to hit full thrust and dive into the atmosphere, test his limits and the capabilities of his ship. He could already feel his fingers twitch toward the control pane, ready to input the command that would ignite the primary fusion motors, sending the ship hurtling down toward the planet.

Inevitably, it was the voice of his co-pilot, Katria Fey, which broke him out of the spell. ‘Shunt drive spinning down. Sensors coming online. You want me to open a channel to Sintra, Captain?’

‘Do it,’ Lorenzo said. He shook his head to clear the last few wisps of madness and tore his gaze away from the viewport, concentrating on the sensor data appearing on his panes. Infrared showed few heat sources around Sintra station, which was surprising in itself. There were normally hundreds flitting about the station, most the exhaust plumes from short range tugs and shuttles and the station’s fleet of atmo-miners, either returning from a successful dive into Heathcliff’s atmosphere, their tanks full of HE₃, or on their way out, the big, saucer-shaped craft with their force fields up and riding brilliant lances of plasma. Even more significant, there were no signatures for other ships in the local volume. Sintra was one of a dozen independent HE₃ stations, and made a big trade in fuel and goods. Sometimes, it was difficult to see the station’s heat signature amongst all the other emissions. Except, the sensor was having a hard time differentiating the few sources from Heathcliff.

Lorenzo frowned at the infrared display. A frown that deepened when the radar return matched the infrared. There were very few objects near Sintra station, none more than a hundred metres in length. That was wrong. Very wrong.

Feeling his guts twist, Lorenzo tapped a command into his pane. An alert sounded throughout the ship. Katria glanced at him.

‘Captain?’

‘Something’s not right. Better prepared than not, eh? Do you have that channel for me?’

Nodding, Katria’s fingers danced across her pane, then gave him a thumb’s up.

‘Sintra station, this is Cat’s Eye on approach. Requesting docking permission, over.’ Lorenzo waited a moment, but the only response he got was the low hiss of background static. ‘Repeat, Sintra Station, this is Cat’s Eye. Requesting docking permission. Please respond.’

Still nothing.

He shared a look with Katria. ‘Antenna trouble?’ he asked.

‘Ours is working fine.’

‘I meant with theirs.’

‘Oh. Maybe. They should have a backup array, or a communications laser.’

‘Are they shining anything our way?’

  

Katria shook her head. ‘Not even a dazzle.’

Leaning back in his acceleration couch, Lorenzo scratched his chin. Right now, they were far enough out that they could spool the shunt drive and be gone in ten minutes. If he took them down into the gas giant’s gravity well, then they would be committed. It would take at least three hours to either reverse course or divert onto a parabolic curve that would slingshot them out the other side of the planet.

At the back of the bridge, the hatch hissed open, and Yeven and Riko rushed in, dropping into their stations. The Cat’s Eye’s bridge was typical for its class, laid out in a horseshoe pattern, with pilot and co-pilot at the front, and the other two stations behind at the tips.

‘Tactical and sensors online,’ Yeven said.

‘Engineering up,’ said Riko. ‘What’s going on, Cap?’

‘Nothing good. Yeven, bring the defences up and warm up the pulse cannon.’

‘Aye aye.’

‘Katria, spool up the drive. I want to be ready to jump at a moment’s notice.’

‘Captain, if you’re about to do what I think you are, we can’t shunt in a grav-well.’

‘I know. But spool it anyway. We’re too far out to see what’s wrong with Sintra. And we have friends there. Unless anyone has a good reason why we shouldn’t take a closer look?’

‘Not one you’ll listen to,’ Katria muttered. Lorenzo pretended he hadn’t heard her.

Resting his arms on the edge of the control pane, he sent a series of commands to the ship’s nav.

The Cat’s Eye’s three fusion motors ignited, accelerating the ship in at a steady 6G. Three brilliant spears of fusion flame stabbed out. If no one at Sintra station had detected their arrival or transmission, they couldn’t miss the exhaust plumes. For anyone looking in their direction, it would seem as though a dim, moving star had flared to life.

The ship was an old Humpback transport, its name given for the way two of the three primary fusion motors bulged out of the wedge-shaped hull. Two engine nacelles rode low on either side of the hull, housing the twin shunt field generators. The transport was a venerable model, well respected for its durability. Some had been known to still function, despite damage to 60% of the hull structure. The design would never be considered pretty, festooned with unsightly bulges and protrusions as if it had some metallic fungal infection, but for most people who operated them, that didn’t matter. They were easily modified, and the protrusions often hid weapon systems. Plus the cargo holds were big enough to hold 300 metric tons. Whatever they couldn’t outrun, they could outshoot. The perfect craft for smugglers and mercenaries.    

At 4,000 kilometres, Lorenzo brought up the visible spectrum sensor telemetry on the main display. Sintra station was a blurry spec at first, until various filters kicked in and resolved the image.

‘Oh fuck me,’ Katria breathed. Both Yeven and Riko echoed her.

The main structure of the station was relatively intact, though despite the filters it remained slightly vague; there was nothing they could do about the cloud of debris and gases. Some of it appeared to be wreckage from the station’s complement of vessels, except for the obliterated wreckage of a GammaStar freighter. Its back had been broken by whatever explosion had destroyed the ship, the drive block now at right-angles to the rest of the ship.

Fiddling with the controls, Lorenzo refocused the display.  

Sintra station had picked up a slow spin, and as it rotated, a gaping hole blown into the side came into view. The edges were ragged and black. A few pinpricks of light flickered inside, and as they watched, there was a sudden outrush of pale gas as some compartment breached. Most of the station was dark, but for a few dimly flickering viewports at the base.

‘Who could’ve done this?’ Yeven asked.

‘Trenkarists, maybe? Or Sivian Templars? They both have a hard on for getting rid of the independents,’ Riko suggested.

‘Except the Order wouldn’t let them. The independents signed a peace-pact, remember?’

Riko scoffed. ‘Yeah, like that’d stop ‘em.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Lorenzo said, turning to face his crew. ‘What matters is what we’re going to do now.’

‘Cap?’

‘Shouldn’t we get out of here? The drive’s all spooled up – all we have to do is alter course and we can slingshot out.’

‘There might be survivors. And these people were our friends. We owe it to them to find out what happened.’

An uncomfortable expression crossed Yeven’s face, but he schooled it quickly, rather than arguing with Lorenzo. ‘You’re right, Captain. We look after our own.’

Turning back to his console, Lorenzo entered a new sequence in to the flight computer.

Thrusters fired on the Cat’s Eye’s hull, altering their trajectory to take them to an interception point 3,000 kilometres further along the station’s orbit. The braking motors fired as they closed with their rendezvous, slowing the ship until they were travelling at a few kilometres a second. Ten minutes later, the Cat’s Eye caught up with Sintra station. It took another thirty minutes to match the station’s slow rotation.

Once they were 200 metres away, the exterior spotlights came on, playing across the ragged hole in the station’s side. At this distance, the hole was much larger than it had first appeared, easily 80 or 90 metres across. But then, Sintra station itself was a kilometre-tall tiered cylinder, with an array of thermal cooling towers at the base adding another 150 metres. Now that he was closer, Lorenzo muttered a curse under his breath. The hole was the result of a compressed muon warhead. The explosion had left it hot, radiating a lot of x-ray radiation. Their hardsuits would be able to protect them from it, but that wasn’t the problem. The missile had struck above the docking bays, and now they had been obliterated. They weren’t going to be able to dock with the station.

Taking a deep breath, Lorenzo made his decision. ‘Katria, stay here. You see any ships pop onto the sensors, and we’ll come running back.’

‘Yes captain.’

‘Yeven, Riko, with me.’

‘Where’re we going, Cap?’ Riko asked as they left the bridge.

‘We’re going for a walk.’

Something to do

I've not been writing much for the past few months. Well, truth is, I've not actually written anything since February, when my writer's block hit.

That finally cleared a month later, and since then, I've been planning Serial Psyence, which doesn't leave me much time to do any actual writing. I suppose I could start writing the bits I've already planned, but after having done that with Liberator's Ruin, and discovering continuity errors because of it, I want to finish the plan before I start writing.

Which leaves me in a bit of a quandary. then I came up with an idea.

I'm not quite sure where I'm going with it, and I'm not sure how long it's going to be, but as often as I can, I'll be putting up new scenes (chapters? sections?) on this blog over the next few weeks. If I like it, I may spin it out into another book.

We'll see