Over here in my part of the UK, the weather is cold, dank, wet and windy – and we may yet get another bout of bitter cold and snow – February is usually our worst month down in the south-western counties. BUT snowdrops and crocuses [croci?] are flowering, the daffodils are shooting up and budding and I am an eternal optimist as well as a cynical old broad. So I am happy. The dogs? Not so much. They will eagerly hurl themselves into freezing cold rivers [Labrador and a Curly Coated Retriever], but go out in the rain? Oh, the horror of it – our cruelty knows no bounds!
On the writing front, Game On, Game Over is still progressing. Word count sits at 45,336 so it is on course to end up round about the 50k mark. It’s still working as a complete story rather than two parts, but the two parts are so different in setting and pace. If the publisher accepts it, I’ll let them decide whether to release it as a whole or to split it. Delegate – aka chickening out…
March 19th is coming closer
, bringing with it the release of Starfall. I am pretty excited about this, not simply because I’m damned pleased with the story itself, but because I want the world to see the amazing cover Reese Dante created for it. The detail and effort she went into is humbling. Just take a look at my Ash’s eyes – mesmersing, yes?
Such a talented lady. Her skill is in itself inspiring – you are driven to write a new story because you want to see what Reese will produce for the cover art!
Tribulation – Part One
The supply run to the mining colony on Tribulation Six was late. This wasn’t unusual. Trib was notorious for its solar flare-storms, and the worst ones played havoc with intersystem shipping schedules. Even so, when Pellintor made a low run over the landing site prior to touchdown, Doran sighed in relief.
His relief was short-lived. The control room atop the Brixt Minerals tower gave him a panoramic view of the port, and he could clearly see the damage to the cargo ship’s hull. Those deep scores and scorches hadn’t been caused by Tribulation’s flares. Doran swore and reached for his personal comm, keyed in Kree’s tag.
“Are you okay?” he asked as soon as the green light showed. “What happened?”
“Pirates!” Kree was laughing with delight, and if Doran had him within reach he would have done his best to throttle him. “We managed to lose them in the asteroids between Sheol and Tartaros. It was fantastic!”
“Are you kiting?” he demanded suspiciously. “Are you glitzing on me?” Kree had vowed he was off the drug, but he’d said that before.
“No!” He sounded more excited than indignant. “Moira flew us through those rocks like she was part of Pell – okay, she’s going to milk it for everything she can get, free drinks, free meals, you name it, but she’s earned one hell of a bonus.”
“Okay,” Doran relaxed, his smile growing. Like himself, Moira was fourth generation human, one of the more common species in the Tribulation system. Then Kree’s first word sank in. “Wait a minute. Pirates?”
“Yes! Moira’s on to our head office now and they’re arranging for an armed patrol sweep.”
There was an almost wistful note in his partner’s voice and it set off alarm bells in Doran. “You’re not thinking of volunteering, are you?” he asked suspiciously. He knew only too well how impulsive Vyans could be, a species trait Kree had in full.
“Never!” Kree protested. “Well, not unless we’d discussed it first and I know you wouldn’t like it so we don’t have to talk and I won’t.” He paused, then; “I’ll be home soon.” It was a promise, and offered more than just his company.
Doran smiled. He could easily visualize Kree’s toothy grin, sharp canines showing – far too many canines by human standards – would gladly have that smile in his life for years to come.
“See you soon,” he said quietly.
… to be continued …
………………
This is what the Generator gave me:
supply – noun
low – adjective
milk – verb transitive
arranging – verb intransitive
gladly – adverb
never – interjection
off – preposition
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