July's Art by Clinton Fekler

July's Art by Clinton Fekler

Space Garden

Resistance Base

Dead Trees

Brain Damage

Giant Spores

July's Book - Gunboy by Leighton Dean

July's Book - Gunboy by Leighton Dean

It's gritty, it's British, it's Cyberpunk.

Since 2018 England has been cut in two. The government rules from York, while the South has fallen to ANARCHY.

In 2038; Evan Bell finds opportunity to unite the kingdom - an emergent leader within London’s gangs, wants to talk. But when a medical transport is shot down, violence errupts in the city. His mission doomed, Evan finds hope in an unlikely ally: Bo, a 13 year old assassin.

Chief Whip Oliver Trench uncovers a corporate plot looking to usurp the Prime Minister, one which will test his loyalties between his friend, the PM and his country.

Evan and Oliver must navigate the war torn streets of London, the unravelling of Britain’s government and a shadowy corporation’s play for dominance. The odds are against them, but in London - a child is about to make a difference.

July's Story - Outset by J. M. R. Gaines

Outset

by J. M. R. Gaines

At the time of the Zetan incursion in 2235 Earth’s defenses were rudimentary. The corporations had mainly developed weapons to fight each other, while the vestigial planetary governments aimed their attack devices downward against terrestrial rivals instead of outward against invaders. Only a half-dozen vessels had been suitable to be fitted with the projectors the Thil delegation had brought when they came to alert humans about what they could expect from Zetans re-entering the Sol system. Better this token resistance than slavery and surrender. There was always hope that the mysterious Blynthians whom the Thil described as allies would appear to save the day.

The Thil – grim, taciturn creatures: even from the translators, their voices had a hissing, disquieting quality; closer to things that hadn’t breathed on Earth since before the Triassic. Still, they were at least shaped more or less like humans – they claimed the mysterious Blynthians had sent them to Earth for that reason.

Good God, what must the Blynthians themselves look like?

The Paramount joined a motley human squadron that deployed with three Thil battle cruisers just a month before the second wave of Zetan ships approached Earth’s system. Captain Seb Forestier tried to make the best of his slim chances in the looming battle.

“Li, have we arrived at the defense coordinates?”

The Exec looked grim. “Yes, sir. Just passed thirty thousand kilometers off Ganymede.”

“Weapons systems all functional?”

“Projector units and missiles all read Go. Do you think we’ll actually get a chance to use them? It feels … weird to just be waiting here for the Thil squadron to lure the Zetans into our little trap.”

“Best we can do. Hard enough getting trained to use the projectors without also having to learn the battle manoeuvres the Thil use. As it is, we’re essentially a masked battery poised for the battle to come to us.”

Despite constant efforts to appear imperturbable, Li’s face betrayed concern. “They say the Zetans are genetic tinkerers.”

Ever since the raid on Munich that had been obvious. According to survivors, they came in various forms, sizes, and configurations to abduct the engineers from the Siemens-Bayer Research Complex, wanting the best and the brightest to experiment on. Seb knew … had known some of those people. What had become of them now? Seb could think of nothing to say in response that was true, necessary and kind, so he pretended not to have heard Li’s remark. Sometimes it was best not to respond at all.

“Alert, sir!” the comm interrupted. “Thil c&c reports condition red. Targets heading toward weapons range.”

“Understood. Li, arm missiles and prepare to implement plan Delta on my command.”

As the still unseen Zetans approached, Paramount slid elliptically around Ganymede. The five other Earth ships arched on parallel courses until four Zetan targets, chased by the Thil cruisers, closed to the prearranged point.

Paramount followed plan Delta by changing the order of the line, like a pulling guard, to form a cluster with Absolute and Dauntless. They fired their missiles just before the Zetan barrage met them head on.

“Damage control report!” Forestier barked to the comm.

“Section four breached and sealed, captain,” Damage central responded. “Propulsion inactive.”

Damn! Adrift near Jupiter. “What about our weapons systems?”

“Round two missiles ready to go from waist stations. Projectors still 100%.”

“Envirosystems?”

“Sustainable.”

That meant at least six hours. Not enough time to repair propulsion.

Forestier turned toward his Exec. “We may still be useful, but not for long. Order partial evac. All non essentials to the pods.”

Li hurried to send the order to the affected areas of the ship as her superior worked on a projector strategy with Tactical. On the scope, a Zetan ship that seemed unharmed by the missiles was swinging around to launch another attack.

“Captain, all crew request permission to stay on board.”

“What?” Forestier quickly overcame an instant of rage at their insubordination – a feeling that turned to admiration as he realized his crew were choosing to stay under his leadership till the end. And considering what the Zetans did to their captives. …

“All right, Li. So what do we do other than blast away with the projector units? Might as well try to board. How do we stand for rangers, other than casualties from Section Four?”

“Full complement for two limpets, sir.”

The limpet boarding modules looked like the animals they were named for, truncated cones with a telescoping bottom that could adjust to a variety of shapes to match target hulls. Each carried a detachment of sixteen rangers in combat suits to provide survival in various atmospheric conditions – a happy coincidence that would allow Paramount’s party to be effective in the Zetans’ alien collection of gases.

“Well, launch them ASAP. We’ll fire one projector volley at maximum range and then give them ninety seconds to attach and secure. If they’re not successfully aboard then, we fire at will. Inform Tactical.”

In scarcely a minute Paramount shuddered slightly as the limpets detached and accelerated toward the oncoming Zetan. There had been just enough time for the chaff to spread out to obscure their movement from the enemy. As the projector volley unleashed, its massive power made surprisingly little effect inside the Paramount. Forestier felt nothing until the Zetan response crackled through every electronic circuit on his ship, sparking and blowing panels all over the bridge.

But they were still alive.

His indicator showed environmental was nominal in all remaining sections. As he turned to the scope he saw why. The Zetan had diverted some weapons to engage the limpets. One had disappeared from the screen and as he feverishly searched for the other, he saw with a start that it had managed to attach to the enemy vessel.

Li turned anxiously. “Projectors ready, sir.”

“Hold our fire! Boarding status?”

It was Comm that replied, “Party aboard and engaging target crew. Some casualties. It’s a firefight, sir.”

Nothing was certain. Forestier swallowed and ordered.

“Prepare to fire projectors on my mark.”

The rangers knew when they left what they were risking. Their ninety seconds were almost up.

“Three, two…”

“Wait, sir,” Li shouted. “Boarding party reports multiple hull breaches and target envirosystems disabled. Zetans are cacking all around them and several pods have ejected.

“We’ve won!”

Her enthusiasm and slang marked a rare but welcome change from her usual formality.

Thank God, thought the captain. Then: Instead of incinerating those rangers, we need to think of saving them. “Set scuttling charge and back to the limpet immediately!”

It seemed an age before the Zetan vessel exploded in a nuclear flash and the limpet thumped back onto Paramount’s hull.

The onboard crew welcomed the disembarking rangers with cheers as they emerged from decontamination, naked as jaybirds.

Seven of the team had survived the firefight, though the captain could not afford to rejoice and bask in their victory – this engagement was only part of a much bigger battle.

“Long range sensors! What’s going on out there?”

Comm quickly answered. “Mobile Zetan targets have left the eccliptic and are being engaged by the Thil. They’re corkscrewing all over the place, but it looks like the Thil have the upper hand. One Thil cruiser appears to have some major damage but is still in action. There are Zetan hulls scattered around and several debris fields. Some kind of craft is approaching rapidly from far outside the system. Doesn’t look either Thil or Zetan …”

Maybe this was one of the Blynthians. No wonder the Zetans were breaking off. The Thil had done a good job but even an entire fleet was no match for a Blynthian warship.

Forestier and Li exchanged a look of surprised relief. It seemed Earth would be spared further bombardment and there would be no further hostage-taking by the aliens.

The elation was short-lived, however.

“What about our ships?”

“Sorry to say, sir, we lost Absolute and Dawntreader. Our sister ship Paragon is coming to pick up evacuees or restore environmentals. EVA thirty-five minutes. Admiral Blake is gone and Commodore Surajee has assumed the flag.”

Seb turned to Li. “You have the bridge. I’m going down to medical to see the boarding party, then look at the seal on Section Four. Notify me when Paragon closes in.”

The Exec glanced back at her board. Nominal environment suddenly didn’t seem so bad. With the projectors powered down to half, they might not even need a full evac to the sister ship.

There were a couple of tugs standing off the asteroid belt. Li prepared to summon one and stopped to smile as she realized that humankind’s first space battle, even if it went down as a local skirmish within system, was over.

Seb continued to peer at the sensor screens. For only a second did he permit himself to wonder if among that ship debris out in the system were parts of any of his friends from Munich, or what was left of them.

James F. Gaines and John M. Gaines have been writing science fiction stories for several years as a father and son team under the collective name J. M. R. Gaines. This story takes place in the Forlani Saga universe and the action serves as a prelude to the Life Sentence and Spy Station novels. The Blynthians and Thil play important roles in the latter book. You can connect with J. M. R. Gaines via their blog here (gainesscifi.blogspot.com).

June's Interview - J. C. Steel

Interview with J. C. Steel



Q. You’ve just released book 4 in your Cortii series. For those of us who don’t know, who are the Cortii?

The Cortii are a mercenary organisation of genetically-engineered humanoids. They aren’t the only mercenary units for hire in human-governed space, but much to the annoyance of the governments and the other mercenary units, the Cortii are both the most expensive and the most effective. They work from space-capable Bases situated across humanoid space. These Bases, also much to the annoyance of various governments, are hard targets to the point where no Base has been successfully attacked in recorded history.

Q. So for a bit more information, I’m interested in what they look like. Also, if they are based on any similar types from human history.

Historically, Cortiians were fully human – more of a militant cult than anything else, pre-spaceflight. They colonised the galaxy along with the initial human colonisation waves, but, like a lot of spacers, found that a little genetic modification made life in space a whole lot easier. However, unlike most humans, the Cortii didn’t stop at being able to tolerate a lower-oxygen atmosphere and other minor tweaks: Cortiian scientists went on experimenting to improve bone and muscle density, range of telepathy and empathy, eyesight, hearing... Which was fortunate for the Cortii, since about the time the majority humanoid government of the time declared them outlaw, they passed all the markers to become their own subspecies, with their own citizenship.

If you met a Cortiian on the high street, you wouldn’t notice them; they specialise in undercover work, and can alter their appearances very effectively. Undisguised, they’re on the tall end of average, about six feet; skin colour varies, but has a coppery tone in most cases that adapts easily to high-UV environments; you’d notice higher than average cheekbones, which support larger sinuses. They’re mostly lean rather than bulky, and if startled (good luck taking a Cortiian by surprise), you might see them move quite a lot faster than average.

Q. There’s a lot of action and adventure in these books. How do you decide on the balance between making the prose exciting and punchy while also taking time to fully describe the world you have created?

Confession: I’m an inveterate pantser, so the plot to background balance is less conscious decision on my part than it is reading through at the editing stage and tweaking anything that makes me wince. While I do have formal editing training and experience (lucky me, it saves me a mint), it’s been more focussed on copy and proof than developmental. If something sounds clunky when I re-read, or if it doesn’t provably move the plot along or add anything else vital to the book, I alter it or axe it.

Q. Do you base your characters on real people? On yourself? Characters from other stories? Stereotypes?

Quite honestly, I think that every writer bases characters to some extent on personas they’ve met or read about; I read once that all the faces you see in dreams are faces you’ve seen, sometime in your life, even though you don’t actively remember them, and I strongly suspect that outside influences in my characters do occur, and to much the same extent.

Q. Out of the four Cortii novels, I’m interested if you have a particular favourite action sequence or scene?

We’d be here a while. Getting to sit on the shoulder of a career mercenary is one of the main perks of writing, for me. Some of the space chases come to mind – there’s one in particular, in the draft of book 7, that gave me happy spasms of glee writing it. Some of the dialogue, as well, if I’m being honest, is a lot of fun to write. Cortiians aren’t particularly nice people, and they’re quite happy to stab opponents in the back, literally or metaphorically.

Q. When writing a series such as this, do you have to re-read your novels before starting on the next one?

Yes and no. I’m lucky, I’ve been telling myself stories in the Cortiian universe since I was about five, so most of the world is internalised to the point where I don’t have to spend time agonising about culture and history and writing myself post-it notes. I find the start of a new book is the tricky bit, at least in my head, and that’s when I tend to find myself re-reading previous books to reassure myself that character A hasn’t completely shifted between books. So far, it’s been paranoia.

On the other hand, I do also re-read my books for fun, immodest as that sounds – there are times when only my own writing tells quite the story I’m in the mood to read.

Q. Have you ever been tempted to go back and change something in a previous novel?

I’ve been known on occasion to go back and cut a section in a published book. Through the Hostage is the principal culprit for this: it was the first book I published, and I made the classic newbie mistake of leaving stuff in because I liked it. A couple of years and three books later, I went back with a machete and took out some of the unnecessary bits. Other than that, I’m currently working on a box set of the first four books plus Unaltered, and I’m updating the formatting for consistency across the whole series. I hope that’s going to be the last time, because formatting seems to require a lot of beer.

Q. Okay, a bit more about you. I see from your blog that you’ve moved around a lot, living in England, Canada, travelling around southern Europe and the Caribbean as a kid. Did this open your eyes to the world? A good experience?

I love seeing new places. I can’t afford to do it as much as I’d like, but one of the gifts from my nomadic childhood is adaptability to new places and ways of living, and seeing how other people live fascinates me. And then those experiences probably get fed into my books in some form or other. The downside was going into a UK boarding school in my teens after years on a yacht in the Caribbean and elsewhere and having basically nothing in common with my year-mates. That left me with an inbuilt wariness meeting new people, especially around the ‘so where do you come from?’ questions.

Q. You once tried to join the navy. How far did you get? Did this experience influence the military aspect of your writing?

I took my Boards for officer training, but was in the majority that fail the first time through. The Captain in charge of my Boards was nothing but supportive to my trying again after university, even to personally writing to me to encourage me to do so, but in university I met my partner, and it didn’t seem fair to start a career where I’d be gone nine months in twelve, so I withdrew my application. I wouldn’t say I ever got far enough with the Navy for it to influence my writing. I do still regret my decision to pull out of that opportunity, although it was for what seemed like good reasons at the time.

Q. Do you think you will always exclusively be a sci-fi writer or do you have your mind on other genres for future projects?

I brought out an urban fantasy novel partly based on my time in the Caribbean at the end of 2018 (Death is for the Living), and I’ve got another couple of urban fantasy ideas in various stages of draft, but honestly sci-fi is probably always going to be my preferred genre. There’s just something about travel to strange new worlds and figuring out that universe that makes me happy.

Q. And how about the Cortii? Is this the last we’ve heard from them?

Oh, definitely not. I’ve got everything up to part of book 8 in drafts, and frankly even that one doesn’t feel like a series wrap, so I suspect there’s going to be more. Lots more. Plus, one of my secondary characters from Fighting Shadows just demanded a novella of his own, Unaltered, so there’s a strong possibility if he gets pushy enough that there’ll be a novel on his storyline as well at some point.

So definitely not then! Thanks for the interview, J. C.

You can check out more interviews with authors on J C’s own blog here. You can find his amazon page here and connect with him on goodreads here.

 



June's Art by Sylvain Sarrailh

June's Art by Sylvain Sarrailh

Mars Pop Downtown

 

 

 

Giant hydroponic on Jupiter

 

 

Hotel Lagrange

 

 



 

Mars Pop Concept Art

 

 

 

 Military Militants - Endless Space 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

June's Book - Japanese Robots Love to Dance by Margret A. Treiber

June's Book - Japanese Robots Love to Dance by Margret A. Treiber

This perfect idea for a story fully delivers in all areas. A humorous and very sassy book that's hard to put down.

 

 

 

It's tough being a robot - unrealistic expectations from humans, long hours, lack of social interaction. And what do you do when unscrupulous owners break the law? Humans have attorneys and so should you. Sometimes you just need a good lawyer to do what a robot can't. I am that lawyer. Gary Legal, attorney at law.

 





June's Story - The Eyes Have It by Philip K. Dick

The Eyes Have It

by Philip K. Dick

It was quite by accident I discovered this incredible invasion of Earth by lifeforms from another planet. As yet, I haven’t done anything about it; I can’t think of anything to do. I wrote to the Government, and they sent back a pamphlet on the repair and maintenance of frame houses. Anyhow, the whole thing is known; I’m not the first to discover it. Maybe it’s even under control.

I was sitting in my easy-chair, idly turning the pages of a paperbacked book someone had left on the bus, when I came across the reference that first put me on the trail. For a moment I didn’t respond. It took some time for the full import to sink in. After I’d comprehended, it seemed odd I hadn’t noticed it right away.

The reference was clearly to a nonhuman species of incredible properties, not indigenous to Earth. A species, I hasten to point out, customarily masquerading as ordinary human beings. Their disguise, however, became transparent in the face of the following observations by the author. It was at once obvious the author knew everything. Knew everything – and was taking it in his stride. The line (and I tremble remembering it even now) read:

… his eyes slowly roved about the room.

Vague chills assailed me. I tried to picture the eyes. Did they roll like dimes? The passage indicated not; they seemed to move through the air, not over the surface. Rather rapidly, apparently. No one in the story was surprised. That’s what tipped me off. No sign of amazement at such an outrageous thing. Later the matter was amplified.

… his eyes moved from person to person.

There it was in a nutshell. The eyes had clearly come apart from the rest of him and were on their own. My heart pounded and my breath choked in my windpipe. I had stumbled on an accidental mention of a totally unfamiliar race. Obviously non-Terrestrial. Yet, to the characters in the book, it was perfectly natural – which suggested they belonged to the same species.

And the author? A slow suspicion burned in my mind. The author was taking it rather – too easily – in his stride. Evidently, he felt this was quite a usual thing. He made absolutely no attempt to conceal this knowledge. The story continued:

… presently his eyes fastened on Julia.

Julia, being a lady, had at least the breeding to feel indignant. She is described as blushing and knitting her brows angrily. At this, I sighed with relief. They weren’t – all – non-Terrestrials. The narrative continues:

… slowly, calmly, his eyes examined every inch of her.

Great Scott! But here the girl turned and stomped off and the matter ended. I lay back in my chair gasping with horror. My wife and family regarded me in wonder.

“What’s wrong, dear?” my wife asked.

I couldn’t tell her. Knowledge like this was too much for the ordinary run-of-the-mill person. I had to keep it to myself. “Nothing,” I gasped. I leaped up, snatched the book, and hurried out of the room.

* * * * *

In the garage, I continued reading. There was more. Trembling, I read the next revealing passage:

… he put his arm around Julia. Presently she asked him if he would remove his arm. He immediately did so, with a smile.

It’s not said what was done with the arm after the fellow had removed it. Maybe it was left standing upright in the corner. Maybe it was thrown away. I don’t care. In any case, the full meaning was there, staring me right in the face.

Here was a race of creatures capable of removing portions of their anatomy at will. Eyes, arms – and maybe more. Without batting an eyelash. My knowledge of biology came in handy, at this point. Obviously they were simple beings, uni-cellular, some sort of primitive single-celled things. Beings no more developed than starfish. Starfish can do the same thing, you know.

I read on. And came to this incredible revelation, tossed off coolly by the author without the faintest tremor:

… outside the movie theater we split up. Part of us went inside, part over to the cafe for dinner.

Binary fission, obviously. Splitting in half and forming two entities. Probably each lower half went to the cafe, it being farther, and the upper halves to the movies. I read on, hands shaking. I had really stumbled onto something here. My mind reeled as I made out this passage:

… I’m afraid there’s no doubt about it. Poor Bibney has lost his head again.

Which was followed by:

… and Bob says he has utterly no guts.

Yet Bibney got around as well as the next person. The next person, however, was just as strange. He was soon described as:

… totally lacking in brains.

* * * * *

There was no doubt of the thing in the next passage. Julia, whom I had thought to be the one normal person, reveals herself as also being an alien life form, similar to the rest:

… quite deliberately, Julia had given her heart to the young man.

It didn’t relate what the final disposition of the organ was, but I didn’t really care. It was evident Julia had gone right on living in her usual manner, like all the others in the book. Without heart, arms, eyes, brains, viscera, dividing up in two when the occasion demanded. Without a qualm.

… thereupon she gave him her hand.

I sickened. The rascal now had her hand, as well as her heart. I shudder to think what he’s done with them, by this time.

… he took her arm.

Not content to wait, he had to start dismantling her on his own. Flushing crimson, I slammed the book shut and leaped to my feet. But not in time to escape one last reference to those carefree bits of anatomy whose travels had originally thrown me on the track:

… her eyes followed him all the way down the road and across the meadow.

I rushed from the garage and back inside the warm house, as if the accursed things were following me. My wife and children were playing Monopoly in the kitchen. I joined them and played with frantic fervor, brow feverish, teeth chattering.

I had had enough of the thing. I want to hear no more about it. Let them come on. Let them invade Earth. I don’t want to get mixed up in it.

I have absolutely no stomach for it.

Philip K. Dick should need no introduction. If you are unfamiliar with his work, check out the amazon page here and his Wikipedia page here. This story is taken from Project Gutenberg. For legal reasons the following statement must be included: (This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org).