Interview with Entanglements Author Patricia R. Mason

Bio: I grew up in the midwest but in 2001 visited Savannah, Georgia, with my sister. As we sat in one of the squares drinking coffee the first morning after our arrival, I knew I was meant to live there. Savannah, founded in 1733, has gorgeously varied architecture in its historic downtown as well as a mysterious atmosphere. With all of its strange and wonderful quirks, Savannah felt more like home than where I’d spent my entire life. So I uprooted myself and left an established career as a partner in a law firm to move a thousand miles to go “home.” I write steamy romance under the name Patricia Mason and YA urban fantasy and paranormal romance as P.R. Mason.

What prompted you to write that first book? Did you always want to be an author?

One of my earliest memories is of regaling a group of my childhood friends with a story I’d created. I do believe it featured an excessive number of dragons. My love of story telling continued through my teens. However, my teenage writings were much too angsty and featured characters who whined a lot….Hmmm. I’m not sure why, but I’m suddenly hit with inspiration for a new character: a whiny dragon. I finished my first novel about five years ago, A GIRL, A GUY and a GHOST. That book does not feature any dragons, but does have a somewhat whiny, discrimination-obsessed, vampire.

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest YA release, Entanglements?

ENTANGLEMENTS is a young adult urban fantasy set at a thriller pace about a teen who accidentally opens a vortex to an alternate dimension where humans are an endangered species. She must enter that world to rescue her stepsister despite the fact that her new boyfriend has been sent from a third dimension to stop her even if he must kill her.

What spark prompted you to write Entanglements?

The plot of my newest release came from an article about the quantum mechanics theory of entanglements. Scientists have observed that a particle may be tweaked and another particle miles away will move in response even though there is no discernable or observable connection between the two. They theorize that the connection may be in an alternate universe or dimension of which there are at least seven. I began to wonder what would happen if people were connected through alternate dimensions.

You write both Young Adult and erotic romance, how do you decide to which book to write?

So far each novel or novella has begun with an idea for a character and/or an idea for a plot twist. Whether the result is a Young Adult novel or a steamy romance really flows from the age range of the characters and the level of sensuality the plot dictates. Even though all the experts recommend against it, I am a very eclectic writer. Different sorts of ideas spring out and I have to write what fills my head. There are at least four stories I want to tell about the world of Entanglements and right now I am working on a sequel entitled RESISTANCE, which I plan to release in January of 2012. But I am also at work on a screenplay in the horror genre.

Do you plot your stories out or do you just start writing?

Less than a plotter and more than a pantser, I start with outlining the major skeleton of the story using the three-act structure. A summary of the major turning points pursuant to that skeleton are then written. I also do a brief character sketch for the hero, heroine and villain, by determining what their major traits are and what their “wound” is. Then I begin to write. Sometimes, however the major plot points will change and evolve, as with Entanglements. When I was approximately 50% finished with writing the draft I decided that my character would have one more battle to face before she finished her story. That “battle” became part climax of the story.

What was the funniest thing you learned about your hero/heroine from writing their story?

The heroine of Entanglements, Kizzy, started out with brown hair but she didn’t fully form into a real person for me until I decided she had extremely curly red hair, which she straightened when trying to conform to societal expectations. Her personality soon followed and became as fiery as her hair.

Which of your characters is most like you and which is least like you?

I think Kizzy is actually most like me. My character Giselle, from GGG is the least like me. Giselle is very hard to embarrass. She will leap into any situation no matter how awkward things become.

Can you describe your office or where you normally write?

I love to write in coffee shops. Getting out of the house is vital when you have two black cats who act as if there is catnip imbedded in the keyboard of your laptop.

Which came first the plot or the characters?

For Entanglements it was plot. I have a short story/novella entitled UNDISCLOSED DESIRES which started with a series of chicken jokes. The story sprang from the fact that these two characters liked to meet after work for “chicken joke wars” and they were too “chicken” to tell each other their true feelings.

Have you ever gotten stuck while writing a scene or chapter? How did you overcome it?

Love scenes, even those with just a sweet and innocent kiss, are really the hardest for me to write. But my go-to guy for inspiration is a British actor by the name of Richard Armitage. He always reminds me what it feels like to go weak in the knees at the sight of someone. Oooh. Soooo dreamy.

What is the wackiest thing that’s ever happened to you since you started writing?

I was stuck in the half-open window of my car, trying to get out when the doors were frozen shut. Yes, I did use that in a novel and I plan to release it soon.

Did you do any research for you book and, if so, did you find any interesting information that you had to include in the story?

Savannah, Georgia, is known for being the most haunted city in America. However, it is not as widely known that there are allegedly many vortexes in Savannah. Since the heroine of Entanglements accidentally opens such a vortex, I investigated an actual location to witness the symbology used to open it. Interestingly, a similar symbol was used by Queen Victoria of Britain and I found this had a kind of synergy since the villain of Entanglements is Victoria’s son who, in an alternate universe, was turned into a vampire by an attempt to cure his hemophilia.

Where can readers find out more about you?

Readers can find out more about me at http://www.prmason.net, http://www.patriciamason.net and http://www.ConfuciusCat.blogspot.com. I am on Twitter @prmason and @ConfuciusCat.

To celebrate her new release, Patricia is giving away 5 (YES, 5) free ebook copies of Entanglements. Or if you don’t want to wait you can buy your own from Amazon or Barnes and Noble. Just leave a comment with your email address to be entered!

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Animosity–Chapter Three

Chapter Three
“Code black.” Another volley of weapon fire rippled through the Tyche. Brongill steadied Ally on the rolling deck and watched as the stacked armaments swayed. “All hands prepare for evasive maneuver zeln.”
“I have to get to my kids.” Ally’s fingertips bit into his forearms.
“This way.” Brongill deftly switched her grip to his hand. He felt the bones grind against each other as he staggered toward the door. Under the relentless attack, the inertial dampeners would soon fail and the armory would become a dangerous place to hide.
Shall I return fire, Commander? Despite Ty’s even tone, the higher pitched notes indicated distress.
“Slud no!” A munitions drone dropped from the ceiling of the armory. Its long spindly arms and cylindrical body blocked the exit before it moved toward the nearest crate of missiles. “Evasive maneuver zeln, Ty.”
“Holy Hannah!” Ally’s sneakers squeaked as she slid to a halt. Shaking off his grasp, she jumped behind him and squeezed his shoulders. “How the heck are we going to get around that large spider?”
The machine swung on its cables like a six legged pendulum until its lanky arms latched onto a crate of long-range projectiles.
They have damaged my hull, Commander. Ty pouted. I believe it is only right that I express my displeasure.
“We have critical mass weapons in the launch tubes.” Brongill winced as Ally clamped down on his shoulders. The tubes were reinforced but if they took a direct hit, the CMWs could explode. He ducked out of her hold, grabbed her wrists and tugged her toward the door. Did Ally know this?
“Not even a direct hit.” She replied as if reading his mind. “The explosives will probably go off but the plutonium trigger will not be rammed home.”
The next attack rumbled through the ship. The force knocked Brongill into the hallway. He slipped on the smooth floor and slammed into the wall. A crash sounded from within the armory. The inertial dampeners had failed. “Damage report.”
I have four free weapons tubes, Commander. Ty’s voice switched to the communications array in the corridor. Life support is out on decks six through nine.
Ally clung to the doorway. Blood wept from the cut where her forehead had collided with the doorjamb. She stumbled into the hall and staggered down the right-hand corridor. “I vote we blow them out of the sky, space, or whatever they’re on.”
In two strides, Brongill caught her about the waist and headed her in the opposite direction. Lurching past the armory door, he spied the munitions drone unpacking the warheads and feeding them to the gaping weapons tubes. “Warning shots only, Ty.”
Understood. The boom of the projectiles’ launch quickly overwhelmed the echo of Ty’s words. Three. Five. Eight. All the drones on his ship must be working for that many batteries to fire. At least one thing worked.
Brongill sprinted to the elevator at the end of the corridor. “Who’s attacking us?”
Panting, Ally reached his side and repeatedly jabbed the up button with her index finger. “Come on. Come on.”
Sensors indicate the weapons fire is coming from Terrill’s Northern polar platform.
“Elevators are offline.” Brongill tapped two keys on his clarn. The elevator doors opened onto an empty shaft. Debris floated in the space. Twisted metal, glittering treveyza and fist-sized spheres, undoubtedly the remains of the elevator and its propulsion engines. “Reduce gravity to point two, Ty, everywhere but the Medical bay.”
Gravity reduction in three, two, one.
“Use the sensors to climb up six levels.” Brongill’s feet lifted slowly from the floor. Cool air brushed the nape of his neck. He turned to Ally, offering his hand. He enjoyed the slip of her soft palm against his before his hands circled her waist. He lifted her and eased her inside the shaft.
Ally blew away the tendrils of hair that hovered near her mouth before gathering her shoulder-length locks and tucking them under the collar of her black uniform. Her hands slapped the top of the door. “Okay. Push.”
With as much thrust as he could manage, Brongill obeyed. As soon as her feet disappeared, he leapt inside while batting aside the refuse. The round sensors embedded on the right wall provided a means to propel him upwards. “Send our identification codes. Broad spectrum transmission. Let them know they are firing upon their own ship.”
Transmission confirmed, Commander. The weapons fire has ceased.
Brongill cleared the second door. Four more levels to go, then they would have to traverse two arcs of damaged ship to reach the next shaft. The Medical Bay would be a long trek.
Despite the fear etched on her face, Ally smiled at him. “I like low gravity. Once you get the hang of it, it’s kinda like swimming. Not that I want to get used to it.”
Nearing the sixth door, he dragged his hands along the wall to slow his momentum and twisted his body. In one fluid movement, he kicked off the back wall of the elevator shaft and jack-knifed through the doorway into the hallway. The top of the
elevator frame scraped his back. He caught himself against the ceiling and shoved to the metal floor.
“Which way?” Hovering, Ally glanced down the three passageways.
Assessing their routes, Brongill noted the destruction. This level, in the center of his saucer-shaped ship, had sustained considerable damage. Buckled bulkheads encroached on the halls. Metal panels lay like crumpled paper on the uneven floors. Cables and light fibers bristled from broken conduits. What must the outer decks look like?
“Brongill?” Ally demanded, chewing on her thumbnail.
“We’ll take the center one. Ty, raise the gravity on this deck to point six.” Taking the lead, he picked a path through the obstacle course. This hallway would take longer to traverse but he refused to risk Ally’s life to save two jas.
Another salvo rocked the ship.
Life support is failing on this deck, Commander.
Brongill’s suit puffed around his body and gloves formed around his hands. The bulk would help maintain body temperature. When the oxygen levels dipped to life threatening levels, the suit would close over his face and scavenge for all available molecules.
The bulkheads creaked and more panels crashed against the opposite wall. Brongill caught Ally, checked to ensure that her suit had reacted correctly, and guided her around the light fibers swinging from the ceiling. One touch and the electrical current would overload her heart. Flames blossomed like a red flowers among black smoke before Ty sealed it shut. “They haven’t stopped targeting us.”
The attacks are now coming from the Southern Polar platform, the lunar platform and one positioned near Delvin’s orbit.
“Delvin’s orbit.” The planet lay closest to the system’s star. The defense array had been planned while Brongill was home but the specifics had been above his classification. He hated to think what weapon it housed. “Broadcast a message on all channels. Brongill of DaHap, commander of the Terrillian ship Tyche requests an immediate cease fire.”
The three platforms answered with another volley. The hallway in front of them collapsed.
Ally slapped the mound of rubble filling the hallway. The thud mingled with the hiss of venting atmosphere and the grind of twisting metal. She glanced at him, frustration and fear etched her features. “How am I going to get to my children now?”
Brongill wanted to assure her she would see her children. The lie lodged in his throat, but the truth managed to pass his lips. “Your children are safe.”
At the moment, it was all he had to offer.
I have sent all available nanites to maintain structural integrity in the medical bay. Ty’s reassurance sounded hollow in the crumbling corridor.
Evasive plan zeln required all crewman and passengers to the medical bay in preparation of abandoning ship. Brongill had hoped to pilot the escape ship to the surface, now he prayed to Isa that Ally’s children would survive. “Medical bay report.”
The com system crackled. Static fought the voice of the Chief Medical Officer, Tula of Ferrite, for dominance. “I’ve accounted for all passengers except you, Ally and John Doe.”
“Understood.” Brongill cupped Ally’s elbow and turned her toward the elevator. “Doe is probably still on the command platform.”
“That’s three decks down.” Ally jerked out of his grasp and inched closer to the mound of debris blocking the shortest trip to her family. “What about my children?”
“I promise you will be reunited with your children.” Brongill skirted offering her a definite time frame. Given the damage to his ship, they would not reach the medical bay when it headed for the planet’s surface. “The hallway three decks down may be passable.”
Ally pressed her lips tightly together and sniffed. Her eyes brightened. “How bad is it?”
Brongill held out his hand. “I have never broken a promise, Alderina.”
“Oh, no, you used Alderina.” A smile faltered on her lips, and she brushed away a tear sliding down her cheek. “Now I know it’s bad.” She slipped her gloved hands in his. “Since the elevator shaft is out of the question, how can we reach John?”
Commander, I believe there is something you should know, Ty interrupted. The command platform is no longer there.
Ally inhaled sharply and squeezed his hand.
Slud. With the command platform destroyed, the entire level was compromised. They would not reach the medical bay. Fortunately, there remained another protected and reinforced place. The question remained, would they ever leave his ship alive? “What about Doe?”
“Here!” Doe’s head and shoulders stuck out of the opening in the exposed conduit. He wiggled and huffed his way out of the tube before clawing onto the debris strewn floor. “I was in the hallway when the projectile punched through the plating.” He swiped at the blood trickling from his lip. “Never seen anything like it. Isa in Her infinite mercy revealed an opening in the ventilation system and I used it to escape the deck. The ones below are just as bad.”
Propulsion … off line. Navigation … minimal. Ty’s report cut in and out. Estimated time to collision with Terrill is five point six jas.
Brongill led Ally and Doe down the corridor. From the groans and creaks, his ship was in its death throes. Time counted down faster than on his chronometer. He tapped his clarn. The panel across from the elevator melted away revealing a repair hub. “Do you trust me Ally?”
“Yes.”
Hot air wafted from the hub. Brongill stepped over the entry and floated in zero gravity. Above him, a fire tossed balls of flames at the skeletal remains of the upper decks. Below, only open space where twenty levels had once been. His collar grew over his mouth and nose. Low oxygen. He would explain his actions to Ally later. The best bet the rest of his crew had for survival would be to free the Tychette, the small ship built within the Tyche. Unfortunately, they were decks away from the emergency escape vehicle. “Eject the medical bay.”
The door to Ty’s room opened. Her head resembled a bubble on the floor while her shortened arms radiated off her like spokes on a wheel. The silvery nanites had disconnected her from the ship, leaving her enough buds to regenerate new tentacles while reducing the remains of the ones still connected to raw materials. How much pain had she felt when his ship was blown apart around her?
“What!” Ally’s screech preceded her. She slammed into him propelling them backwards into the hub. “You can’t. My children.”
Activating the magnets in the soles of his boots, Brongill managed to stop two lenarcs across the white room. “This will save them. All of them.”
He heard the scrape of Ally’s boots just before Doe entered. The doors snicked shut.
Ejection procedure in process. Nanites formed a black skin over Ty’s bulbous head. She rose half of a lenarc above the silvery floor. Her six truncated tentacles swayed gracefully in the zero gravity, just as they would have in her native aquatic environment. Stasis procedures off line.
“Tula.” Brongill tightened his embrace and felt the warmth of Ally’s tears through his shirt. “Prepare your passengers for ejection.”
Ally whimpered. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades.
Doe cleared his throat and skimmed along the perimeter of the room. Every once in a while he would run his hand down the wall then dust the opalescent nanites onto his suit.
“Ejection preparations complete.” Tula’s voice crackled through the room. “When can I expect you?”
“I’ll see you on the ground.” Brongill kissed the top of Ally’s head and for a moment lost himself in her sweet floral scent.
“Understood.” Tula severed the connection, silencing Ally’s children’s demands to speak with their mother.
“Wait. No. Nichole. Collin. Marie.” Ally groaned and pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh God! Why didn’t you let me say goodbye?” She pounded her fists against Brongill’s chest.
“Why?”
“You will see them again.”
Thrusters are back on line. The room pitched to the left before quickly righting itself. Ejection complete. The Tychette is ready for breakaway.
Brongill closed his eyes and pictured the plating and a quarter of the Tyche’s hull being jettisoned, so the saucer-shaped craft could break free. At his command, the craft would receive a short burst of power to guide it to the correct trajectory. “Upon my mark. Three, two, one. Mark.”
Telemetry indicates the platforms are targeting the Tychette.
Ty’s words slammed him back into the present; Brongill opened his eyes and gently set Ally away from him. The craft had no defenses. “Move to intercept. Fire all available batteries.”
My defense systems are destroyed. Ty wiggled her legs and drifted closer to the ceiling. Brace for impact.
Brongill widened his stance while Ally did the same. He hoped the increased attraction between his soles and the floor would prevent them from being hurled the six lenarcs across the room. A mild tremor shook his legs. Was that the extent of the attack? He rubbed his forehead. The sound-proof room nestled in a mesh of shock-absorbing pylons. For anything to be felt, the damage must have been intense and destructive. He glanced around the four walls. Would this become their tomb?
“Your sacrifice is noted, Commander, but what about us?” Doe huddled in a corner of the room, clawing at the nanites on the ground as if to bury himself under them one handful at a time.
“Ty, which shuttles are available?”
I apologize, Commander. Ty drifted closer to the floor. I had to use many of the parts to make repairs for the journey home.
Doe pushed off the floor. Silver glistened in his red hair. “There are no shuttles, are there? That is quite unacceptable.” His shaking hands smoothed the front of his blue Neithian uniform. “You stranded us on the ship! My people need me. I am their leader. Duly elected by the largest majority in Neith’s history. Me. I cannot die here.” He stomped his foot.
Brongill ignored the man’s blubbering. They were down to their last option.
“Shhh!” Ally hissed. “I think they’ve stopped firing.”
Another blast rippled underfoot. The nanites lost their gravitational attraction to the floor and filled the room with a shiny haze. Unease tightened Brongill’s gut. What horrible weapon could affect them all at once? “Status of the Tychette.”
They’ve entered Terrillian atmosphere.
Crouching, Ally turned Ty’s bulbous head until they were eye to mechanical eye. “Are they still being targeted?”
No, but sensors indicate the angsnet has caused an electromagnetic surge. Ty caressed Ally’s cheeks with one thick tentacle. All telemetry linked with the Tychette has been severed.
“Why aren’t the nanites placing us into stasis or building us new life pods?” Doe grabbed handfuls of the silvery machines from the air and rubbed them into his sleeves. “I must survive!”
“The chance of survival is less than a hundredth of one percent, John Doe.” Ty lifted free from Ally’s touch and turned to face the former leader. Her tentacles hung straight down from her body. “The pods are not designed for atmospheric entry.”
“How do you plan to get us off this ship, Commander?” Doe folded his arms and glared at Brongill.
Thoughts of their remaining option filled Brongill head and he smiled. The politician might well choose to die instead of taking his best chance at survival. Brongill’s attention shifted to Ally. He wished he had more time to prepare her.
Commander, the weapons fired from the Delvin platform are dark energy weapons.
Fear iced Brongill’s spine. Those weapons had been in development before he left. But he had relegated their purported destructive power to myth and propaganda.
“Dark energy?” Doe sniffed and inspected his chipped fingernails. “I fail to see how that would affect anything. Dark energy only works in open space. It certainly isn’t sufficient to overcome atomic attraction.”
Ty’s six arms folded in close to her body. Apparently, in our absence, Terrill found a means to use the dark energy to switch the energy of my composition.
“I don’t understand.” Ally’s brow furrowed as she stared at Brongill. “What do you mean switched your composition?”
“The Tyche is coming apart at the seams.” Brongill entered a code into his clarn. The wall separating this command hub from its duplicate dropped like rain onto the floor. Four man-sized green eggs floated in the dim space. “Aren’t the effects confined to the blast site? How many times have you been hit?”
Once. Ty used her tentacles to propel herself into the next room. Her bloated head and short limbs were a quarter the size of eggs. The effects of the weapon seem to be self propagating.
Brongill reached her side in six strides then shoved the closest oval into the light.
Ally caught it, skidded backwards a lenarc before stopping. She looked at him then the egg before locking her jaw.
“Ty, what are your maneuvering capabilities?”
Rudimentary, Commander. Ty wrapped four tentacles around one oval and towed it over to Doe. I apologize for my failings.
“Can you skim Terrill’s atmosphere?” Another order from Brongill’s clarn and the green eggs split in half down their full height. They opened with a sigh and revealed their nanite-filled interior.
Course change in progress. Ty drifted to Brongill’s side and wrapped one limb around his shoulder and another around his waist.
“Prepare for Rouh’s Insertion.” Brongill watched as part of the floor buckled. The battle would soon breach their stronghold.
It has been an honor to serve you, Commander. Ty briefly touched her forehead to his.
Brongill tugged Ty over to the fourth egg. “You’re coming with us.”
I must protect you. Even with the new updates the pods cannot survive a direct hit by even the weakest of weapons.
“We’re too small a target.” Brongill eased Ty’s bulbous head into the black interior. The nanites swirled and ebbed as they adjusted to their cargo. After tucking her legs inside, the ebony filling changed to silver. “I doubt the weapons are authorized to fire into Terrillian atmosphere. This war was supposed to save our race from extinction, not doom it.”
“I suppose this is the best you can do then this one will have to serve.” Doe stepped inside his chosen egg and wiggled into a standing position. The nanites shimmered as they accommodated his form. “This is so undignified for one of my importance.”
“Any news of my kids?” Ally pressed her hand onto the black nanite filling and watched it spring back.
Judging from speed and trajectory, the Tychette has begun final approach for landing.
“So they’re safe then.” Ally sighed and raked her fingers through her hair. “And now I have to get to them. What’s Rouh’s insertion?”
Brongill helped Ally into her pod. “We are inserted directly into Terrill’s atmosphere, then plummet to within an arc of the planet’s surface before we drop slowly to the ground. In a manner, I believe, similar to parachuting on Earth.”
“Have they landed yet?” She tried to pull free but the nanites held her fast.
Before Ty could answer, Doe interrupted. “Isn’t there a small matter of burning up in the atmosphere?” He struggled against the nanites holding him in place. “The suits can’t protect us from temperatures in excess of eight hundred Kelvin.”
“The outer shell is constructed of ceramic tiles. Underneath are layers of nanites that will burn away in the heat. Once clear of the upper atmosphere, they will increase the friction slowing our descent. The parachute will deploy at the appropriate oxygen level and speed, jerking you awake for the final freefall.”
“I can’t believe I’m being packed into a Nerf football and handed off to a planet.” Ally complained. “What kind of nut job came up with this brilliant plan?”
“Me.” Brongill chuckled. Silver nanites flooded into the pods replacing the black ones.
“How many times has this been done?” Doe demanded.
Brongill ordered Doe’s and Ty’s eggs closed. If these were his last moments alive, he preferred to spend them with Ally. “Twice.”
“Twice? Good lord.” She glared at him before fisting his shirt front and pulling him against her. “Twice successfully?”
“Once successfully.” Brongill pressed his lips to hers and lingered over her softness. A kiss, not of hello or goodbye, but of desperate beginnings. Where he had sought to comfort, the contact sowed only raw need. Reluctantly, he pulled back but savored the sweet taste of her lingering on his tongue. Pray Isa, keep her safe. “Commander Rouh did not survive.”
Commander, I have jettisoned the last of my bulkheads. If I sustain another hit, I may not have enough power to blow the door to the command hub. Ty’s warning resonated inside his skull.
Ally set her jaw. “You had better not die on me.”
“You’re not getting away from me that easily.” Brongill strode over to his pod as he entered the last orders on the clarn. He faced Ally just as her door shut.
“What do I do?” The nanites muffled her voice but not her panic.
“Remain calm.” Brongill swallowed the nausea burning at the back of his throat. He had done this before and survived. With his improvements, they should all make it to the surface. “Ty, transfer co-ordinates of the Tychette’s landing place to all pods.”
Co-ordinates for the largest piece of the Tychette entered.
“Largest piece?” The darkness of the sealed egg pressed against him.
The ship broke apart just prior to landing. Do not fear, Commander. I have blocked all communication with Alderina of Rutgers.
“Any survivors?” The nanite packing absorbed his breathing, his words and muffled the sound of his beating heart. Brongill’s senses strained against their deprivation.
Telemetry indicates all passengers arrived safely on the ground. Terrillian atmosphere reached.
“Prepare for deployment.”
Quadrants two and three jettisoned. Rouh’s Insertion in two, one. Pods clearing debris field. Atmospheric penetration. Temperatures remaining within expected parameters. Velocity within tolerance range.
“Set the ship to self-destruct. Authorization Brongill, Terrill, quip, zeln, Brongill.”
I do not believe that is necessary, Commander. The turbulence from contact with the atmosphere is shredding the ship. Exosphere reached. Temperatures are declining. Speed increasing. Tile sloughing expected in six point eight herits. The pods are performing better than expected. This will be my first time to the surface. I do hope it won’t disappoint me.
“Go to sleep, Ty.” Before he blacked out, Brongill’s last thought was of Ally. He prayed she would survive, but knew that all their lives lay in Isa’s hands. Pray Isa, show us your mercy.

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Black Cats and Halloween

I’ve always wondered why black cats were associated with Halloween. Sure, cats are nocturnal, their fur is the color of night (which is usually when the holiday is celebrated) and they’re predators.
But why black cats specifically.
I couldn’t find any definitive source on a single reason why–just lots of supporting one. The first one being the most obvious–cats are considered witches familiars. In other words, they’re another set of eyes and ears for witches. And anything associated with witches was considered evil by Christians and Puritans, in particular (Let’s face it, Halloween became a commercial holiday in the US first). Heck, I’ve even found reference that Puritans killed black cats along with witches during the Trials. Some folks even believe that murdered witches could return in their familiar’s body.
It should be noted that all the sacrifices of the animals were on the part of the ‘good’ Christians, not on the ‘evil’ witches, wizards, etc.
The reason why black cats in particular are singled out may be its association with darkness and the fear most humans have of not being able to see the threat out there (whether perceived or real). Of course, having those shiny eyes staring back at you without seeing a body can be a bit unnerving.
Naturally when commercialism got it’s hands on Halloween it decided the arched black cat became the symbol of the holiday–although to me the cat symbolizes fright not evil.
But not every culture considered black cats evil. The Egyptians prized them, even mummifying them. And in the UK it is considered good luck to pet one based in a black cat’s association with a king.
Still, the stereotype of evil remains and many humane societies refuse to adopt black cats during the month (some even extend the curtesy to black dogs). Here are some tips on keeping your animals, black or otherwise, safe during Halloween.

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Need a Little Help

Taking a break from my symbols of Halloween to post a few dictionary links I’ve found helpful.

Dictionary.com–the helpful tabs at the top allow you to switch back and forth to the thesaurus.

Websters— Includes a thesaurus, medical and legal dictionary.

Merriam-Webster–same as above but with Spanish-English and links to an encyclopedia.

Urban Dictionary–American slang

Slang Dictionary–UK version (two nations divided by a common language.

Military Dictionary–Loads a lot faster than the DOD’s version.

The Nonverbal Dictionary–Body language

Dictionary of Sexual Terms–That should be self-explanatory

h/t to Kaileigh Huxley for this Military term directory: https://www.buyrope.co.uk/military-terms-glossary/

Until Wednesday!

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Interview with Paranormal Author Liz Jasper

Liz Jasper’s first novel, Underdead, won the 2008 EPPIE Award for Best Mystery. The sequel, Underdead In Denial, was published the following year to critical acclaim. Since then she has written a YA novel and is currently back to work on her next Underdead book.
Liz lives in California near hiking trails and good public libraries, in a house where chocolate is welcome and the resident cat gets fatter and lazier every year. Why does Liz enjoy writing paranormals? With a career path that has gone from teaching middle school science to economics and finance, writing about blood-sucking demons was only natural.

What prompted you to write that first book? Did you always want to be an
author?
I’ve been writing since I was a kid, though back then it was mostly because I liked folding the papers and stapling them in a center like a real book. I moved on to writing terribly earnest poetry in college. In grad school I was a bit swamped for time so I stuck to dirty limericks. A friend and I used to pass them back and forth in statistics class and once we got the giggles so bad we had to leave. I want to apologize to that teacher. Ahem. Again. When I was working as an analyst, I was doing numbers all day and I missed creativity and I missed teaching. So I started my first book. That one is in a drawer now. Since then I’ve taken a boatload of classes (Writer’s U is excellent and cheap) and read a lot of books. (I’ve got recommendations for classes and books on my website: lizjasper.com). I’ve worked hard–and still work hard–to learn my craft. As much as I wish I could parlay my high school English Department award into instant ability to write a book, it doesn’t work that way. On the plus side, by working at writing you get to meet a lot of writers and writers are a hoot!

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest release?
Actually I’ve got the first two books in my lighthearted paranormal mystery series out in time for Halloween and as a Back To School Special (because I think the sting of going back to school lasts until about February). They are both available in eBook and in trade paperback. The first book in the series, EPIC award winning UNDERDEAD, is about newbie science teacher Jo Gartner who is bitten by a vampire–only he doesn’t quite do the job, leaving her almost undead or “underdead”. Murder follows and suddenly she’s dealing with cops, vampires, a love triangle, and a growing pile of lies to her mother. In the sequel, UNDERDEAD IN DENIAL, the story deepens and the consequences get bigger. I like the sort of book that you can curl up with on the couch after a rotten day and flip pages and giggle and that’s the sort of books I write. And in a nod to Halloween and the fact that school is in session, I’ve got the ebook of UNDERDEAD now on special for $.99.

Underdead isn’t you’re typical vampire story. Can you tell us how you came up with such a unique twist?
You know how you get a song stuck in your head? For some reason, I had a comedian’s punch line stuck in my head and it wouldn’t leave. I have no idea why a punch line from a comedy special I saw years ago suddenly resurfaced. I don’t even remember her name or I’d have sent her a nasty email for tormenting me like that. But for a long while I had an endless, virtually meaningless loop of “it was underdone-done-done” in my head, when suddenly it switched to underdead-dead-dead. And then I imagined a character saying, “You’re telling me vampires actually exist and the one who bit me didn’t quite manage to turn me Undead? So I’m merely…what? Underdead?” For some reason, the humor and pathos of it stuck with me.

Do you plot your stories out or do you just start writing?
I plot. I don’t know how anyone can write a mystery without plotting out a lot of stuff, though I know some do, and do it very well. But I can’t write without knowing where I’m going. I’ve learned that if I’m having one of those days where I’m dithering over a word in a scene, it’s because I haven’t nailed down the scene goal. That’s when I step away and make I know where my character’s head’s at. Having said all this, I have a fantasy that after I write enough books the plotting part will be so second nature that I’ll be able to sit down and just write.

What was the funniest thing you learned about your hero/heroine from writing
their story?
I love that in UNDERDEAD IN DENIAL we learn that the vampire, Will, listens to NPR. For some reason that’s just so darned NOT scary-vampire-y or hot-mysterious-man that it cracks me up.

Which of your characters is most like you and which is least like you?
Hmmm. That’s a toughie. They’re all like me in some regards. They all have some facets of my character and some bits and pieces from other people. You can’t write if your characters are too much like you. Characters, like plots, are not real life or they’d be boring. Jo is probably the most like me. And her mother is the least, because she is the sort that dresses up to go to the grocery store and I’m very much not. But I admire that put-together-ness.

Can you describe your office or where you normally write?
I have a superbly messy desk. Every so often I organize my papers and clean every inch of my desk and it slowly turns back into a trash heap.

Which came first the plot or the characters?
Actually, the title, UNDERDEAD, came first. And the plot and characters quickly followed.

Have you ever gotten stuck while writing a scene or chapter? How did you
overcome it?
I get stuck all the time. I’ve learned that it’s because I don’t have something in the plot nailed down or that I’m in a direction I don’t want to go. I have a writing buddy that I Skype with when I’m stuck.

What is the wackiest thing that’s ever happened to you since you started
writing?
It’s not the wackiest, but one of the most hilarious experiences I’ve had as a writer was at the RWA San Jose, CA chapter’s pitch conference a few years back. Catherine Coulter was running a workshop on how to write a sex scene. My books are very much PG (there’s romance but no gory details) so I wasn’t writing sex scenes, but I went anyways. The workshop was hilarious and for about an hour I was laughing so hard I cried. The how NOT to write a sex scene was the best part. I’m giggling just thinking of some of her examples. Seriously, if you ever get a chance to do a workshop with her, do it. She’s awesome.

Did you do any research for you book and, if so, did you find any
interesting information that you had to include in the story?

I research as I go. When I get stuck on a plot point and can’t write any further, that’s when I know it’s time to step away from the manuscript and nail down, say, a police procedure. Otherwise I will waste days dithering over whether my detective would really ask that question then to that person. I have lots of reference books and the internet is a great source of info, but sometimes you need to talk to an expert. I found this amazing when I first called my local police station, but they are set up to handle odd questions from people like me. The switch board put me right through to an officer who cheerfully answered all my questions. When I need forensic help I read D.P. Lyle’s books or ask him for help.

Where can readers find out more about you?

My website: lizjasper.com
I’m bumping up against the Facebook friend ceiling so I’ve started a page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Liz-Jasper/114356318669137
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/AuthorLizJasper

Thanks for having me Linda. It’s been a pleasure chatting with you!

Thanks for being here, Liz. It’s been a blast. Now, someone comment for a chance to win a free ebook of Underdead! 🙂

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Animosity: Chapter Two

Here’s another sneak peak at my latest SciFi romance, Animosity.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

“Hello, baby brother.” A woman’s image filled the screen. For a herit, the steaming video flickered. The picture narrowed to include only her face and shoulders. A fine layer of white powder dusted her brown hair and filled the laugh lines around her jade-green eyes

Brother. Brongill froze halfway across the command platform. Only one woman had the right to address him so. Loss tightened his gut. Terrill had destroyed his sister Penja and the ship upon which she was stationed three lunacs before he had departed on his last mission. His gaze flicked to the date encoded on the image. The message had been recorded six solar cycles after he had left. How could that be?

“What?” Confusion twisted Penja’s full lips. She fanned the cloud of white hovering near her face and focused somewhere to the right of the camera. “The signal is coded only to respond when the Tyche’s transponder signals from Neithian orbit.”

Brongill strode closer to the terveyza but couldn’t discern the other half of the conversation. His gaze returned to the woman. Despite the fatigue darkening the skin under her eyes, she looked well. Alive and his sister had finally added a few pounds to her rail thin frame. A faint rose color flooded her face. What had the invisible speaker said to her?

“Yes. Yes.” She rubbed the dried blood on her high cheekbones. “Do you want to talk to him? Then let me have my say before Terrill cuts off our power.”

“Brother?” Doe squawked, maneuvering in front of Brongill. “Your records stated your family died while vacationing nearCanPeak.”

Instead of shoving the man out of his line of sight, Brongill retreated to the command chair. Maybe the Blarzaj had already feasted on the politician’s brain. “My parents leapt off the Falls at Can Peak rather than be tortured any longer by their own government.”

Doe blinked and nodded once. “Then you won’t have any conflict with destroying Terrill.”

“None.” Leather creaked as Brongill leaned back in his chair. He had planned to destroy Terrill the moment his sister had revealed the truth behind his parents’ deaths and captivity.

Doe skittered out of the way. One of the few intelligent decisions he’d made since entering the command deck.

Penja focused on the camera again and flashed her even white teeth. “As you’ve probably guessed, I survived Terrill’s sabotage attempt. The fumbling of the assassin was insulting really. We found most of her bombs.” Penja frowned, pausing a moment. “Unfortunately, not all of them. I lost several good friends when the ship exploded.” She clamped her lips together and cleared her throat.

A low thud transmitted through the communication’s systems. Shortly thereafter, white pebbles and dust rained down around his sister. Brongill stroked the command orb embedded in the right arm of his chair. Data streamed down the terveyza next to her. Based on the sound waves and the composition of the surface of Neith, the cluster bomb had exploded six arcs from Penja’s bunker. Two arcs closer than the last attack.

Had his sister been on Neith when Terrill used the critical mass weapons?

“Yes, we know Terrill destroyed the Salvage.” Her smirk faded as quickly as it came. “Proving it is almost as difficult as getting someone to listen to the fact that our beloved protector isn’t as benevolent as everyone believes.” Another thud. She winced as more debris fell down on her head. “We don’t have such a hard time convincing anyone now.”

Brongill watched as the telemetry stream incorporated the latest strike. Five arcs. Terrill seemed to be triangulating on the signal. An easy task if the image was recorded and stored locally. Impossible, since his sister used their technology against them and uploaded the message directly into the angsnet.

“Thirty-seven jas after the Tyche sailed, word filtered through our network of informers that we were to be relocated. Oh, Terrill was quite clever in the beginning. The scourges that hit Neith were right out of Isa’s Time of Affliction-earthquakes, floods, droughts and diseases. Most of the population relocated.”

Another volley. Three scatter bombs. Three to four arcs away. Slightly more to the north. The camera lost focus and widened onto a large cavern that seemed to stretch beyond the range of the lens. Behind his sister, Brongill watched men and women wearing Terrillian military dress load crates of supplies and weapons onto rows of dilapidated shuttles. White flecks dulled the fresh black paint of the military insignia. He swallowed a laugh as he recognized the Tyche’s alphanumeric designation. With the help of a holonet and Isa’s blessing, the ragtag group of ships might be able to clear Terrillian defenses before anyone noticed.

“I, of course, am not most of the population.” As the camera shifted again, Penja gripped the table in front of her.

A brand new Terrillian holographic emitter lay in the dust. Beside it squatted almost fifty receivers, more than enough for all the shuttles he could see.

“There are about three thousand of us holdouts left and our intelligence informs us Terrill plans to use critical mass weapons.”

Another pounding of scatter bombs. Large boulders pummeled the shuttles. A few Terrillian screams tore through the Tyche’s communications system.

“The emitter is ready. Start dispersing the receivers,” Penja shouted. “Load the wounded onto the shuttles. Everyone to their assigned posts. Double count the crew. I want no one left behind.” She disappeared in a swarm of people.

Brongill caught sight of her handing the cylindrical emitter to an older man dressed in the blue unitard of the Neithian Assembly. Her movements were slowed, awkward. Had she been injured? He lost sight of her as the camera bounced from face-to-face, unsure of its target.

Penja sidled up the now empty table and pushed at the tendrils of her hair escaping the restraining clip. The camera focused on her face again. “Where was I? Oh, yes. We didn’t believe it at first. Honestly, we thought CMW’s were tales people told to scare us. The first wave hit half an axis spin ago. Terrill kindly gave us the rest of the AS to surrender. Needless to say we’re relocating to Terrill, the Can-Peak region, but we’re not accepting a lift from a prison freighter.”

Bile roared at the back of Brongill’s throat. He had lost his sister twice and found her as many times. Now, she’d calmly told him she was returning knowing she would be hunted like an animal in theCadianMountains. Death would be the most merciful fate.

If Terrill captured her…

“I know what you’re thinking.” Penja grimaced. A low garble sounded to the right before she nodded. “Mother and Father perished atCanPeakwhen Terrillian soldiers forced them off the bridge above the falls. But really, little brother, it is the best place for us. TheCadianMountainsare riddled with warrens from before the signing of the Peace Accords, and Father had me memorize the maps and taught me how to avoid the ancient traps.”

Brongill winced. The passageways were at least two millnacs old, crumbling and deadly. They wouldn’t withstand one scatter bomb assault. Yet, his sister planned a campaign from within the abandoned cities and towns. And he had arrived over a thousand solar cycles too late to help her. His hand stilled on the control orb. Perhaps he should cut the transmission. The message didn’t matter. His sister was dead.

“We will wage our war from behind enemy lines. And if the treatment of Neithians is true, we’ll add considerably to our numbers. Of course, it will help if we have the flagship of the Terrillian fleet on our side.” Penja winked at him. “When you get this message, I hope you will decide to fight for our cause. Either way, I pray that Isa’s eyes shine upon you with benevolence.” As she reached for the camera, the lens widened its focus.

Doe gasped, pressing his manicured hands to his mouth.

Brongill railed against his own stupidity. How could he have been so ignorant? The extra pounds, the flushed cheeks and the awkward movements added up to one conclusion.

“Hmm. Oh, yes, this.” Penja placed her hands on her round belly. “Nelin wishes me to let you know he admires you greatly and does not wish to die at your hands.” His sister latched onto a black-haired man in an authentic black Terrillian unitard and pulled him with the toddler in his hands into the picture. The babe had the same jade green eyes and infectious smile as Brongill’s sister.

Doe leaned closer to the screen. “No wonder Terrill wants her so badly. Your sister had two children when most women couldn’t even have one.”

“We were planning to hold the bonding ceremony upon your return but some things couldn’t be put off. I am near to term with my second child and haven’t the slightest complications. I am my mother’s daughter.” She laughed before swiping at the tears streaking down her cheeks. “But I won’t meet her fate. Until we meet again, brother.” Penja turned and with her bond-mate and child hurried to the closest waiting shuttle.

The ship lifted off from the floor before the screen faded to black. A herit later, telemetry relayed the successful landing of twenty-nine shuttles in theCadianMountains. His sister’s numbered among them.

Doe paced in front of the information. “Perhaps we should reconsider destroying Terrill.”

Brongill rose from his seat. If his sister’s descendants were still alive, there would be a message awaiting him on Terrill as well as a means to track down the remaining inhabitants of Neith. He needed time to find them. Slud. “I need to stop Ally.”

“I said perhaps.” Doe blocked Brongill’s path to the door.

Brongill grabbed the man by his shirtfront and tossed him out of the way. “The CMWs need to be deployed in less than twenty jas.”

Which, by his calculations, was exactly when they would reach Terrillian orbit.

****

Entering the third armory in as many decks, Brongill scanned as much of the cramped room as he could. Crates of munitions, cartridges for the batteries hidden underneath the Tyche’s plating, missiles, and other projectiles were neatly organized in easily accessible stacks. The pungent aroma of lubricant combined with the sharp scent of the solid fuel to add a pallor to the brightly lit interior. The room contained everything necessary for a short, devastating and lethal campaign. And this was only one room among many on his ship. Yet he needed to avert a war, not start one. His gut tightened with awareness just before he caught the faintest whiff of blarcus. Ally. about time you showed up.” Ally’s growl rumbled down the aisles between the assembled munitions.

Brongill peered down the nearby row. Nothing. Did she know it was him? Had the three lunacs of communing in their Ahln phase created a bond that transcended that space between this plane of existence and the next? Or was she expecting someone else? Turning right, he walked to the next aisle. A feminine shadow flickered across the opening at the far end.

“Stop hiding and come apologize.” The clatter of metal punctuated her last word.

Her sharp tone confirmed that she had sensed his presence. Brongill expected her displeasure. After all, he’d planned mass murder. Yet she’d offered to help. The facts bit like barbs under his skin. Hadn’t he promised to protect her, even from himself? Especially from himself. Clasping his trembling hands behind his back, he strode between the crates toward her and squeezed into the open preparation area.

“Well?” Ally glared at him from behind a perimeter of missiles hovering at waist level. The humming cylinders circled her in a clockwise motion until she set her hand on the fattest one. Her knuckles whitened when she latched onto the warhead by hooking her fingers around the open panel in the casing.

The exposed network of blue cables reassured Brongill. If she had finished changing the missiles into critical mass weapons, the conduits would have changed to red. Brongill leaned against the shoulder-high tower of artillery cartridges on his right and crossed his arms. “What do you wish me to apologize for?”

“For making me believe I was to be part of genocide.” The nantool in Ally’s hand lengthened and then split in two. As she lowered the tool toward the open access panel, the pieces of nantool solidified into shears

Despite the upheaval threatening to knot his insides, Brongill remained still. Could she really believe he would involve her in genocide? The moment she agreed to modify the weapons, he’d changed his mind. True, he still planned to bomb the Terrillian Council Chambers, but the strike would be a warning not to follow the Tyche. “Why did you volunteer to change the weapons?”

“I would volunteer to a picnic in Hell to get away from your and John’s pissing contest.” Ally shook her head, yanked a length of wire through the opening and snipped it in half. The blue light dulled to black. “The future of your species is at stake and both of you were fixated on control of the telemetry module and who gets to address the crew.”

Brongill arched an eyebrow. He would endure her wrath against his own actions but not hers. “I did not wish to address the crew. That was your order.”

“So what’s the plan?” As the nantool returned to a rectangular shape, Ally tucked it into her hip pocket. She jerked on the black ends of conduit. With a pop, the rest of the length came free. She tossed it into the pile at his feet. “I know you didn’t come all the way down here to make certain I refitted the missiles correctly.”

Brongill pushed away from the stack and prowled the room. She had left the command platform while he and Doe had been united in their intent to destroy Terrill. Yet she had known before he had that he wouldn’t go through with it. He glanced at the weapons. Had she even altered them? He had Ty’s word that she could, but Ty had orders to prevent their use at all costs.

“I mean it isn’t rocket science. Well, it is but…” Ally set her hands on her hips and tapped her left shoe against the metal floor. “Where are we going to live now?”

“How did you know how to alter them?”

Ally jerked the nantool free. “My ancestor was on the team that invented them. Of course, they were to be used to Terraform planets, making them habitable for future Terrillian settlement. But then the military got their mitts on them and turned them into something nasty, just like they did with the Angsnet.” She shook the unlit laser torch at him. “Do you know of any species in the galaxy that doesn’t make advances on the blood of its citizens?”

None that survived an encounter with those that did. But from the darkening of her blue eyes she’d already deduced that. Brongill stopped circling her. “The military serves a purpose.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I know the value of what you do, what you’ve done. But destroying a planet? I know how these things work.” Ally slapped the largest projectile.

Brongill winced as the nose dipped toward the floor. He could almost hear the clusters of atomic bombs rattle around the casing.

“Those people will die a horrible death as the planet turns itself inside out.”

“They would not care what you suffered.” Reaching across the ring, Brongill stroked her silky hair before cupping her cheek.

Ally sighed, closed her eyes and set her hand over his. “And I won’t let hatred for them destroy us.”

“You can stop working on the critical mass weapons.”

A grin spread across Ally’s lips as she opened her eyes. She turned her head and placed a quick kiss in his palm. “Ty wouldn’t let me hear the message. What did it say? Will Terril let us go in exchange for the cure? Have they…”

Brongill set a finger over her lips. “My sister and some Neithian rebels invaded Terrill, planning to overthrow the Council from the surface. We’re on another rescue mission.”

“Your sister? I thought…” Ally pushed through the missiles and laid her hands on his shoulder before pressing against him. “Are you okay?”

Folding her in his embrace, Brongill reveled in the feel of her. The softness of her breasts and the cradling of her hips. He hadn’t quite grasped the rules of Earth courtship but something was abundantly clear. She made him a far better man than he’d have ever become without her. He only hoped he gave her the courage to be everything she ever dreamed of being.

Ally pulled back to look at him. “What if they don’t want to be rescued?”

“We’ll leave.” Brongill watched Ally’s eyes widen. So, he finally managed to surprise her. Good. He wanted her off-balance before he told her of his revised plans. “I concealed enough provisions around Terrillian-controlled space to fill our needs until we find a home.”

Stepping back, Ally tilted her head as if waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she ran her thumb along the skinny edge of the nantool. Nanites closed the covering on the weapons. The missiles lined up as if ready for deployment. “When I first heard that I possessed the memories of my ancestors I thought I might finally get to know the woman who gave birth to me. I wanted to know why she would have a child at the cost of her life. I wanted to know why she picked my parents to raise me.”

Despite knowing the answer, Brongill asked. “And did you get your answers?”

Shaking her head, Ally sniffed. “No. The majority of memories embedded in my twenty-forth and twenty-fifth chromosomes are about great achievements like the CMWs, the Angsnet and the signing of the Accords. Not a single one is about the birth of a child, a bonding ceremony or a graduation.”

“The memories are encoded to give a child an advantage so they could bring greater glory to the family name.”

“There’s nothing personal anywhere. I would love to have passed along some of the best times George and I shared to my children.”

“Perhaps you did.” Brongill ignored the pounding of jealousy inside his skull at the mention of her late bondmate. Maybe she was not ready to tie herself to him. Placing Ally’s needs above his own was not as easy as he thought it would be.

Ally shrugged. “Which memory would you pass on to our child? One of your great military victories or an impossible assassination?”

The point was moot as men could not pass on memories but her question had meaning that caused his palms to sweat. During the three lunacs her body remained in stasis, she would have been taught Terrillian courtship rituals. She must know that by speaking of children, she agreed to be his bondmate. Still, he must make his intentions clear. “Our child would remember the first time I saw you. She would see your tousled hair and the fear and determination in your eyes. She would also know that you were disappointed because I lacked antennae.”

“I don’t think I want our son to know that.”

Our son. She had accepted. Brongill’s pulse raced. Tonight they would celebrate and tomorrow he would stand before her and her children and pledge his life to hers.

“If the message from your sister hadn’t arrived, how would you have explained to Doe about the refusal to strike Terrill?”

Brongill smiled. “It would be with deep regret that I informed Doe that you don’t know how to correctly rewire a CMW. In fact, if Ty hadn’t caught the error of your efforts, we’d all have been incinerated.”

“Hey!” Ally shoved his shoulder. “I’ll have you know I converted all four of them in under five jas.” Ally aimed the nantool at each missile. After the tiny red light on the nose cone turned on, the weapons drifted toward the launch tubes. “I’ve spent the rest of my time waiting for you to show up and watching the kids rock climbing in the medical bay.”

Brongill’s smile faded. None could be that fast. The quickest technician could rewire the missiles in eighteen jas. She had to be joking but red lights indicated they were ready to fire. He checked his clarn and calculated the time to detonation.

“Five jas? Pray Isa, we’ll have to deploy them now before they explode.” Live CMWs. He changed screens and scrolled through the nearby solar system. Where could he send them? Neith was too far away.

Ally set her hand on his clarn, blocking out the readings. “What are you talking about?”

“The time limit.” Brongill shook her off. He needed a planet or a moon. The missiles needed a target or they would seek out the nearest one. And Terrill was the largest around. “The core is unstable and will spontaneously explode in ten jas.”

“Who told you that?”

“I don’t think it is the time.” Brongill scrolled backward through the listing on his clarn. The third moon on the tenth planet. Isa, what if the gas giant turned into another sun? Terrill wouldn’t survive.

“Maybe the way they are made now but mine are perfectly stable.” Ally tapped on the last missile as it entered the launch tube. “They won’t detonate until I give the code.”

“How is this possible? Do you have any idea…”

“I have a very good idea what you’re feeling. Frustration. Anger. Relief. I feel the same way every time you test my love for you. I’m warning you, Brongill. This had better be the last time.”

“Understood.” Brongill felt his racing heart slow. “Are the missiles really stable?”

“Alderina is correct.” Ty’s reassurance drifted through the communication’s system. “Although not made according to current specifications, the weapons will only explode upon her command.”

Ally grinned and tucked her hands in his. “Now we can kiss and make-up.” She sat on a high crate and tugged him closer. “The kids are busy. You proposed. I accepted. And amidst all the memories of Terrillian glory, I stumbled upon an interesting tidbit from an ancestor of mine. She was a favorite of the Bistal, the leader of the Military Dynasty during the Era of Day.”

Brongill smiled. He had heard of ‘kiss and make-up’. As for Bistal, his sexual appetites and women were legendary. “Are you interested in sharing this information?”

“I could be persuaded.” She pressed her lips directly on his.

Brongill opened his mouth. Although they had kissed many times while in the Alhn state, the physical experience exceeded even that pleasurable interlude. The sensations peaked and made his knees buckle. As he broke off the kiss, both gasped for breath.

“I felt the ground shift under my feet.” Ally smiled, playing with the hair bound tightly at his nape. She nudged her nose against his before moving in for another kiss.

Brongill met her half-way, controlling his need to rush the make-up part.

“Commander.” Ty’s voice wavered as it rattled through the communications system. “We are under attack.”

Available in pdf

 

 

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The Fabulous Halloween Pumpkin

I love Halloween and so for the next couple of weeks I’m going to explore some of those fabulous Halloween icons. Today, is that famous of all symbols: the pumpkin.

Just how did carving of jack-o’-lanterns become associated with the holiday and why on earth did they called jack-o’-lanterns instead of john-o’-lanterns?

According to the cyberfont of wisdom Wikipedia the use refers to the Irish custom of carving turnips into lanterns as a way of remembering the souls held in purgatory. Makes sense as most sources agree that Halloween (derived from the term All Hallow’s even (short for evening)) is of Celtic origins. Of course, when those waves of Irish hit American Shores they found the pumpkin and knew right away that it was better than a turnip (or a potato)

Sources disagree on the exact date the first official pumpkin was carved but by the end of the Nineteenth Century it was firmly established in the US.

So why jack?

Apparently, there’s a legend about this crafty Irish fellow named Stingy Jack who bested the devil several times. And when he died, neither heaven nor hell would take him in. The tale is best told here: Legend of Stingy Jack

So now there are fabulous pumpkin carving events all around the country. Many bring it to an art form such as on sites like http://www.extremepumpkins.com/

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Interview with Regina Duke

Bio: Regina Duke has been writing since she was thirteen! Her alter ego is Linda White whose career at University took up a lot of time for thirty years, but she still managed to accumulate a daunting pile of encouraging rejections slips. Is that an oxymoron? Regina and Linda inhabit the same body and do battle daily over what to write next. The family is made complete by two papillons and a tiny Sheltie.

What prompted you to write that first book? Did you always want to be an author?
I wrote my first (horrible) novel at 13. Prior to that, there were no extra pens and paper in the house, or I might have started earlier. I remember copying words from a book page at the age of five, because I wanted to write, but I had no idea what they said at that age!

You have multiple stories published, how do you decide which story to write?
I let the characters tell me. The ones who make the most noise in my head are the ones who have to go on paper first. I make rational choices about which book to do next, and my characters, waiting in the wings, just shoot me down and take over.

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest release?
Trickster and Other Stories is a collection of my soft science fiction and quiet horror stories that have languished literally for twenty years. Three of them appeared in semi-pro magazines in the early 1990s, and three have never been published. I love these stories and the characters in them. I just wanted to share them.

Your book, Trickster and other stories, contain paranormal elements. Have
you ever had a paranormal experience?
Yes, I have. Not a ghost or anything sexy like that. 🙂 But as a child I saw visions of the future which I could not explain until enough time passed for them to become reality. The visions stayed with me all through life. They were quite comforting actually. Proof to me that there is more to us than what we see with our eyes. One vision was about square black boxes with slots for flat cubes that turned into movies on a wall. The moment I saw my first video recorder, I had an electric jolt of a realization that my dream had just become a reality. The movies on a wall: flat screen TVs. Fun stuff.

Do you plot your stories out or do you just start writing?
I used to fly by the seat of my pants. Now it depends on the genre. If I’m writing a short story, the seed of the idea is full blown and I sit down and pound it out. If I’m writing a novel, I now spend a lot of time working out the details. But usually I can’t wait to start writing, so I plot out a chapter or two, decide what the ending will be, then I start writing. I end up plotting between chapters. LOL!

What was the funniest thing you learned about your hero/heroine from writing
their story?
Wow. For Terri in North Rim Delight, it was learning she had a feisty streak that could really get her into trouble. She just has to get in that last dig. It almost got her killed at the Canyon, and it certainly played a role in the way that book ended!

Which of your characters is most like you and which is least like you?
Gosh, these are probing questions! I have to think.
Least like me would be the vampire-like creatures in “Trickster,” the title story of my collection.
Most like me… well, Terri and I have a lot in common. We’ve both been through crazy times with crazy people, and we’ve dealt with it by pretending life is normal and trudging onward until things got better. But Terri gets to grow and mature at a much quicker rate than I did. But then, no writer was plotting my course for me!

Can you describe your office or where you normally write?
I love my home office! Don’t laugh, but the walls are pink because it makes me feel happy. And there are pictures of handsome men plastered on the walls. TV characters, musicians, and posters. And of course, there are photos of my dogs! I also pin my goals to the wall by my computer. Boxes of files, filing cabinets, and paper everywhere. Dog beds and toys (and dogs) scattered about. Fun place to write.

Which came first the plot or the characters?
In the case of North Rim Delight, the characters came first. They told me their story and we went from there. The same with Woof in the Wedding Plans, a novella that follows them three months later. In Trickster and Other Stories, the ideas for the stories came first, and the characters were born out of a need to know how a person would react to those “what if?” situations.

Have you ever gotten stuck while writing a scene or chapter? How did you
overcome it?
Oh, yes! Sometimes I am stuck so badly that I have to change projects. Go write something completely different. The interesting part? Several times the “something completely different” turned out to be exactly what the story needed and ended up as the next chapter!

What is the wackiest thing that’s ever happened to you since you started
writing?
The wackiest thing since epubbing had to be when The Woof in the Wedding Plans hit #24 on the Amazon Top 100 list for Home and Garden, Wedding Planners!

Did you do any research for you book and, if so, did you find any
interesting information that you had to include in the story?

For North Rim Delight, I researched veterinary technicians. I even interviewed a veterinarian to learn about types of surgery that could be used to hide diamonds in a dog.
For Woof in the Wedding Plans, I had to learn protection-dog training terms in German!
For Trickster and Other Stories, I did a great deal of research for several stories, including reading research papers on the life habits of coyotes. Sounds dry, but it inspired the story!

Where can readers find out more about you?
I have two websites, http://www.reginaduke.com and http://www.lindalouwrites.com . More doggy stuff on the latter. My Regina Duke blog will hopefully be functional by the end of the October. One step at a time in this indie pub world!

URLs for my books:
Regina Duke & Linda White’s Trickster and Other Stories http://www.amzn.com/B005OKJMGY
Regina Duke’s The Woof in the Wedding Plans (a novella) http://www.amzn.com/B005JSPBV6
Regina Duke’s North Rim Delight, http://www.amzn.com/B0050Q57SY

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Animosity–Chapter 1

Chapter One
Clasping his hands behind his back, Brongill of Da’Hap steeled himself against the unease twitching through him. “One thousand, one hundred twelve solar cycles is a long time to be gone.”
Laughter drifted on the stale air of the Tyche’s command platform. The reinforced doors slid closed, shutting out the celebration. Everyone aboard his ship rejoiced in their arrival at their future home of Neith. Everyone but him.
The green planet filled three of the clear terveyza panes banding the deck. Old Terrillian soldiers never retired to the shores of Lake Versipho or spent their remaining years fishing on the sparkling water under verdant skies. The Military Dynasty on his home world of Terrill had prepared him for espionage, destruction, and assassination. Peaceful coexistence never entered the picture.
And then there was the Earth-Terrillian hybrid Alderina of Rutgers and his new family. His gaze flicked over her, enjoying the expanse of skin exposed by her traditional Terrillian dress.
Ally smoothed the bright pink fabric covering her breasts before tugging at the hem that brushed the tops of her thighs. The gold Lynuktar embroidered across her belly arched its wings over the wide strips covering her chest.
Although considered middle-aged on Earth, her beauty still flourished at forty. Brongill shook his head and inhaled her unique perfume. The scent of the spicy blarcus blossom subdued the pungent ozone patina filling the circular command platform. He would think her still beautiful when they reached the end of their natural life span in a hundred and thirty solar cycles. He could not settle for one herit less. She had given him what everyone saw in the planet beyond: hope and a future.
He hadn’t quite decided if that was a blessing or a curse.
The excited whispers of Ally’s three children washed over him. Marie wished to explore the forests, Collin itched to dissect the generator constructing streams of the tiny nanite machines and Nichole wanted nothing but to stay beside her potential bondmate, Crewman Sephell.
“No one has answered your greeting, Commander.” Regret tainted the usual perkiness rolling out of the ship’s communications systems.
“Shall I send the greeting again?” Ty, the organic life form integrating every system on board the Tyche-class starship, hummed an off-beat Earth tune paying tribute to a tubular delicacy known as hot dogs.
Brongill ignored the musical racket. Ally might view the noise as nothing more than harmless commercials but even a
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novice soldier recognized the basic brainwashing methodology in the mindless repetition. He glanced at the woman by his side. Ally along with her three children began to sing along.
After the off-key crescendo, Ty switched to extolling the virtues of bologna.
“Ty.” Brongill interrupted before the ship could repeat the verse. He’d rather have a cranial infestation of Blarzaj before learning anymore about Earth’s infatuation with processed animal flesh. “Broadcast the greeting on all channels, including military. Authorization Zeln-Qip-Veln. Brongill.”
Ally’s youngest daughter Marie smiled at him. The black tip of her braid caught in the gap between her front teeth.
Collin, Ally’s son, shoved his blond hair out of his eyes before tugging a red Swiss Army knife from his waistband. “I could take a look at the comm link, if you want.”
Does not the child understand the purpose of nanites? Ty snapped, using the neural link attuned specifically to Brongill’s brainwaves. I am certain I stressed the repair function of the nanites to him.
Brongill rubbed the chip located behind his right ear. “I have a room full of items to sate your curiosity, Collin, but my ship is off limits.”
Anticipation glistened in the boy’s brown eyes. “Deal.”
“Instructions confirmed,” Ty answered. A high pitch screech crackled through the communications relays. “My apologies, Commander. The synthetic intelligence is misbehaving again.”
“Does it ever behave?” Nichole, Ally’s oldest daughter, crossed the dark floor in seven steps. Reaching the terveyza, she stroked the green edge of Neith visible on the pane. “The computers tried to kill us twice already.”
Crewman Sephell joined Nichole by the window. “That’s why Ty’s intelligence integrates all the systems. She’s completely biological and won’t allow the computers to harm us.”
Ty returned to humming about bologna. I do like crewman Sephell. Although as my commander, you would have done an admirable job defending my innate superiority, if you chose.
Tuning out his ship, Brongill noted the worry etching the soft skin around Ally’s blue eyes and thinning her full lips. Gently, he squeezed her hand, at ease with the physical contact so alien to his Terrillian upbringing. “Do not worry, Alderina of Rutgers. The Tyche’s equipment is antiquated by Neith’s current standards.”
Ty fell silent.
Despite her nod, Ally chewed on her bottom lip.
The Tyche’s sensor array zoomed onto the planet before them. Shadows filled the room as the system’s sun fell outside the focus of the glass.
“Maybe they forgot you were gone.” Collin said, joining his
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older sister and Sephell.
A sliver of unease worked its way down Brongill’s spine. “We have the cure for the virus pushing both populations of Neith and Terrill Prime toward extinction. No one is liable to forget that.” But would the Council wait longer than a millnac for its arrival? Patience was never a cultivated virtue on Terrill. Brongill tapped the clarn strapped to his wrist. The command, logistics, and armament remote nodule immediately signaled the nanites. Less than a herit later, the whisper of the tiny machines advanced over Brongill’s bare skin.
“Oh!” Ally grinned as the nanites filled in her plunging neckline and connected the hem of her skirt into shorts. As the sleeves and pant legs lengthened, the bright pink fabric faded to black. “I thought you had a fondness for the bikini that wanted to be a cocktail dress.” Devilry twinkled in her blue eyes.
Ignoring her, Brongill scanned the deck. The nanites were hard at work changing everyone’s clothing from their ceremonial dress to the utilitarian unitard of the Terrillian military. With a tug on his scalp, the nanites bound his black hair down his nape. Although he refrained from ordering poisonous barbs on the strands of sinew holding his hair, Brongill took comfort knowing about the shivelle tucked into the banding. The thin blade had saved his life more than once.
Ally nudged his shoulder. Confusion wrinkled her forehead. “I thought Neith replaced satellites with the Angsnet a long time ago.”
“The Angsnet was required on all Terrillian territories.” Brongill nodded. The atomic-sized machines drifted in low Neithian orbit, controlling everything on the planet from the weather to communications. It also allowed Terrill to spy on the planet’s inhabitants. He could understand that the system had been upgraded but satellites were a technological step backward. “Ty, magnify.”
Circling Neith’s equator, black and brown chunks of debris tumbled in profusion. Here and there, large pieces collided in a spray of tan particles.
Nichole tugged on the collar of her black uniform. “My lessons didn’t mention that Neith had either a moon or rings.”
“It doesn’t.” Anger blazed inside Brongill’s skull as his thoughts leaped toward their inevitable conclusion. Power up the command platform, Ty. Colored rings glowed on the floor, just as the command chair and control sphere emerged from the metal deck in front of him. A low buzz grew in volume as the platform came to life.
I did not think the lack of response was due to my antiquated systems, Ty huffed.
Fearlessly, Collin skipped over to the control sphere and grabbed it with both hands. “Cool, a giant joystick.”
Drawing the boy’s attention, Brongill lifted his right
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eyebrow.
Collin cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “I know the control sphere is not a toy. It is used to manually pilot the ship in times of war.”
Brongill felt a tug on his sleeve, and he glanced down.
Tossing her black braid over her shoulder, Marie pointed to the window. “Is the planet supposed to do that?”
Ally set her hand on Marie’s back. “Do what, sweetie?”
“It looked like it wobbled,” Nichole leaned her head against the terveyza pane.
“The axis appears to be unstable.” Smoothing back his white-blond hair, Sephell strode to the red ring to the right of Brongill’s chair. A crescent-shaped instrument module rose from the floor and stopped as it leveled with his waist. Sephell’s lean fingers skimmed the black surface, yellow symbols lit up in their wake. More information streamed down the terveyza next to the display of Neith.
I am more than capable of piloting this ship and supplying any information Crewman Sephell might wish, Ty complained. Why does he insist on using such an antiquated interface when all he needs to do is ask and I will supply the answer?
Brongill ignored his ship’s petulance while he waited for the planet to reveal its secrets. “I suspect that is the cause of the wobble.”
Vast expanses of black ate at the lush green forests. The scorch marks covered this side of the planet while three deep craters pitted the spotted brown surface. Each cavity spawned fissures radiating in every direction.
Acid churned in Brongill’s gut.
Had Terrill embarked upon the course that Brongill himself had suggested? His dreams of a future with Ally and her family crumbled under the weight of his past. He forced his fists to relax. His anger ebbed. He had two choices, fight now, or later. Today he could pick the time of his battle, increase his chance of winning and of Ally surviving.
A hushed whimper slid into the silence.
Unshed tears glistened in Ally’s eyes as she hugged her youngest daughter.
“I’m picking up the residual of a critical mass explosive.” Sephell’s fingers stopped. His Adam’s apple bobbled as he glanced at Brongill. “The explosives are of Terrillian origin.”
Nichole strode to the blue ring to the left of the command chair. No doubt determined to show off the new skills Ty had transferred to her cerebral cortex while Nichole slept in stasis. Another crescent-shaped console sprang from the floor. As she tapped the keys, blue highlighted information scrolled over the image of Neith. “The blasts are over a millenia, I mean, a millnac old.”
Ally pinned Brongill with a hopeless stare. “They didn’t
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wait to see if your mission was a success.”
Marie tugged on her braid. “Where are we gonna live now, Mom?”
The doors to the command platform opened. John Doe the former exalted leader of Neith stormed into the room and waved a manicured hand toward the planet. “What do you plan to do about this?”
Brongill clenched his jaw. Sludding politicians. Why couldn’t Isa in Her infinite wisdom confine the lot to the Eternal Pit with a legion of Blarzaj for company? Of course being that God was merciful, She wouldn’t allow the cerebral parasites to die of starvation.
Ally rolled her eyes, as if to assure him that politicians were the same degenerate breed on every planet. “Nichole, take your brother and sister to the Medical Bay.”
Collin stamped his foot. “I don’t want to go.”
Nichole crossed her arms and glared at her mother. “Why do I have to be punished? I’m an adult and am needed here to run the telemetry interface.”
Doe paced and muttered in front of the terveyza. Periodically, the man stopped, shouted an expletive and tugged his red hair.
Brongill ignored the urge to have the cretin transported molecule by molecule to Neith’s surface. First, he would help Ally protect her children. “Do you wish to be part of my crew?”
Nichole nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Then follow orders.”
Anger tightened Nichole’s features. “Aye, aye captain.” She saluted before stomping over to her brother and sister’s side and shepherding them toward the door.
Marie and Collin grumbled and jerked away from her touch. Crewman Sephell joined them as they stepped through the open double doors and into the hall.
Ally waited until the door snicked shut behind them then sidled into Nichole’s recently vacated station and merged the two data streams.
Doe crushed his hands against his temples. “How did this happen? The planet was geologically sound when it was terra-formed. Are there any survivors?”
The display on the terveyza flickered. Species’ names scrolled down the glass. Each had zeroes next to them.
“No life signs,” Ally confirmed.
“None?” Doe’s pasty skin paled.
Irritation pulsed at the base of Brongill’s skull. The man failed to comprehend what his eyes relayed. “Terrill would have evacuated everyone of value before attacking.”
“Everyone has value.” Doe dithered, paused then glowered at Brongill. “Terrill did this?”
Ally cleared her throat, drawing Doe’s attention.
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“According to the amount of Yttrium and Strontium, Terrill attacked six solar cycles after the Tyche departed on her rescue mission.”
“The instruments must be damaged.” Doe strode over the empty console. “Yttrium and Strontium indicate critical mass explosives. Those weapons have been outlawed since the massacre at Supbi Twelve, over two millnacs ago.”
Brongill waited for the politician to reach the inevitable conclusion. Only then would the last leader of Neith take the next step to assure that Ally, her children and the rest of the people on board the Tyche would remain safe from Terrillian aggression. Forever.
“There must be another explanation.” Doe shook his head as the instrument recalculated then returned the same results, again and again. “Terrill wouldn’t…”
“Terrill did.” Brongill insisted.
“Why? What could they possibly want to destroy all life on my home?”
“You’ve seen my records. You know what I did all to prevent the Terrillian species from becoming extinct.” Although he spoke to Doe, Brongill focused on Ally. Would she interpret today’s actions as revenge against those who tortured and killed his family? Or would she understand that destroying Terrill was the only way she and her family could have a future?
Doe scratched his chin. “I know you were privy to the innermost chambers of the Terrillian Council.”
As the leader of Iseh’s Fury, Brongill had coordinated all the intelligence supplied to the ruling body of Terrill.
“Before we departed, the repatriation of the people of Neith was the primary objective of Council. If the plan met with any resistance, Neith would be rendered uninhabitable. Its people reeducated and the fertile ones studied.” The word soured in his mouth. The government considered rape an integral part of the study.
Doe waved away the idea. “There’s always the wormholes and the three settled systems nearby.”
Ally changed screens. The darkness of space was broken by the twinkle of light. “Long range sensors indicate there are mines — er– contact explosives at the mouths of both wormholes.”
Scratching his chin, Doe stared at the pane. “Can we harvest the contact explosives and return them to Terrill?”
“Such a crude attack would not penetrate the Angsnet.” Brongill spoke slowly as if to an infant. Maybe a glimmer of reason could get through to the politician’s thick skull.
“Commander,” Ty interrupted. “The crew is viewing the same pictures. There is considerable unrest.” They are damaging my interior and I cannot spare the nanites to clean up after such juvenile antics.
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Ally winced and rubbed her neck. “Ty open the audio communications channel. The commander will address the crew.”
Brongill almost smiled. Ty was connected to Ally as well. Too bad his ship wouldn’t transmit her thoughts to him.
“I am the leader of Neith.” Doe sniffed. “I should address the crew.”
Alderina of Rutgers is quite adept at concealing her thoughts from the implant, Commander. Although from the little I gleaned, she is irritated and angry. Ty switched to speaking through the communications system. “Channel open.”
Irritated and angry, Ty’s insights were evident in Ally’s rigid posture and jerky movements. Brongill wanted to know the source of her ire. She had accepted his true nature when he had explained it, but living with his past was another matter entirely. Especially when the blood still dripped from his palms. “Citizens, passengers, and crewmen. The planet Neith has proven unstable. We will be rerouting to Terrill Prime. End communication.”
“That’s it?” Ally faced him. Anger sparkled in her blue eyes. “There’re a lot of people down there who are worried and that’s all you have to say? Neith kinda fell apart folks so we’ll be moving on to the next planet. They were attacked by the very people you just told them will give us safe harbor. Don’t you think they have a right to know of the danger?”
She didn’t understand his intentions. Brongill turned craven when faced with all he had to lose. It wasn’t enough that Ally lived a long life, he wanted to spend those years at her side.
“No.” He shook off his selfish desires with one word. He had pledged to see her safe, he would honor that oath.
“No?” Ally set her hands on her hips. “Ty can carry us all to one of the other colonies beyond Terrill’s reach.”
“Your kind would not be safe from them, Alderina.” Doe glanced at Brongill. “There are those who prize purity above life. To many, being born on Neith is enough to tarnish the bloodline. Hybrids such as you and the other thirty-odd passengers on board would be killed on sight or worse.”
Brongill walked to Ally’s side and gently rested his hand against the small of her back. Now the politician remembered Brongill’s unsavory past. Did the man really believe Ally remained ignorant of his bloody history?
“Nowhere is safe.” She sighed.
Doe pounded on the console in front of him. “Why cannot I gain access?”
Oh, Ty chirped. One will not gain access by abusing my peripherals in such a fashion.
“This is a warship.” Doe stepped back as the dark panel melted into the floor. “What weapons are at your disposal?”
Brongill ordered Ty to display the contents of the Tyche’s arsenal. “The usual photonic and particle weapon plus a full complement of critical mass explosives.” He waited a herit for his
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words to sink in.
Doe did not disappoint. “I give you authorization to use them.”
“Ty, change course for Terrill Prime.” Brongill clasped his hands behind his back. He had waited a solar cycle for orders to destroy Terrill and yet… Yet he wished the politician had offered a better solution.
Praise be to Isa, mercy was for the weak, and weakness was a lethal flaw. He wouldn’t make the same mistake his father had. He would protect his family while he still had a fighting chance. For now, the Tyche was a Terrillian ship and could sail unchallenged past her defenses. After he launched the CMWs, he’d have less than a jas to take out the offense coordination hub before fleeing into deep space. The chances that the Tyche would survive the attack were slim. The chance anyone on board would live with Terrill hunting them was nonexistent.
“Once the critical mass weapons are activated, they cannot be deactivated and must be deployed within twenty-five jas.”
“I know that,” Doe snapped.
“Course change in progress, Commander.” Ty resumed humming another Earth jingle. “Estimated time of arrival is thirty jas.”
“Why?” Ally hunched over her console. Her hoarse question bounced off Brongill and landed on Doe.
“While in stasis, you were educated on Terrillian history. The bloody, relentless massacres of everything that stood in its way.” Doe rubbed his hands together yet managed to look suitably somber. “Planets, civilizations, entire species destroyed without another thought. Terrillians take what they want without regard to cost. Neith has to be the last casualty.”
Brongill refrained from applauding. The sentiment would be better received if Doe and everyone on board the Tyche weren’t descended from Terrill and exhibiting the very traits they thought the planet’s destruction would eradicate.
“Commander.” Expectation bloated Ty’s pause. “May I remind you that you specifically ordered me never to activate critical mass weapons? Indeed, with the death of crewman Jemank, the only one with such knowledge is Alderina of Rutgers.”
Silence saturated the room. Brongill set his hand on Ally’s. He could not ask her to be a part of Terrill’s destruction. She had endured enough. He would find another way and Ty would help him.
“I’ll do it.” Without looking at him, Ally turned on her heel and strode out of the room.
Brongill moved to follow.
“Commander.” Ty stopped him before he reached the door. “There’s an incoming message. It’s from Neith.”

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Survival of the strongest? I don’t think so

WARNING: Rant to follow. Recently I read a series of books that referred to Darwin’s Survival of the Fittest (actually, it’s natural selection). As usual, this was derided to the popular believe that strong, physically fit (in-shape) people would survive. I gritted my teeth. This egregious misconception has been perpetrated since Origin of the Species was published.
It wasn’t true then.
It isn’t now.
Not even in Social Darwinism.
The way fit was used by Darwin is a biological term–meaning how well the individual’s progeny produce more progeny and references how well they function in their environment. To put it bluntly, the guy who goes to the gym and can bench press 300 pounds but produces no children (with or without steroids) is far less fit than the 300 pound couch potato who has 5 kids.
Don’t believe me?
Here it is again in the man’s own words, “It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.”
Now go work out.
And remember, sex burns calories, so does parenting.

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