Two Women and Some Books
She was just the girl
The nameless heroine
In pretty frocks and curls
Her face made up.
Each Hollywood show
There she is once again
Every TV drama
Her role remains.
Only to be seen
To titillate and lure
To decorate the screen
Not play a part.
The token female
To stir and slake men’s lust
Her words don’t count, just the
Size of her bust.
“You have no idea what you are letting yourself in for. How can you?”
Commodore Vane shook his head as he spoke, it was beyond understatement and beyond belief. The soldier’s green eyes were fixed on a point some distance behind the Commodore’s left shoulder. Their colour, so brilliant, Vane suspected genetic enhancement and their focus had been unwavering since he entered the room.
“I think I do, sir.”
He stood in a formal parade-ground stance, as ordered by the scowling Legionary Sergeant who had escorted him in and now lurked by the door. Vane had made a conscious choice not to relax him from the rigid posture. He never did with the conscripts. Vane glanced back at the remote screen he had called up, its contents invisible to anyone else. “Amnesia,” he read the word aloud and looked back at the soldier. “Total amnesia?”
“Total retrograde amnesia, sir,”
The Sergeant, a big, broad-shouldered man called Hynas, stood almost a head taller than his charge who was not much more than average height, and the ever-present scowl changed to a sneer at the words. Vane ignored him.
“And do you know why?”
“Due to an unknown trauma immediately prior to my arrest, sir.”
“Prior to, not during?” The way most of his men were brought in to begin their military career in his Legion it would not have surprised him in the slightest to find the injury had been inflicted at that point.
“Yes, sir.”
“I see.” Vane wondered if he truly did, the implications here were so disturbing. “You have no knowledge or memory of anything before your arrest?”
“None, sir.”
“And that means you have no direct knowledge or experience of what life is like outside the Legion?”
“No, sir. I do not.”
“Then how can you know you want to leave us, soldier?”
He noticed a slight hesitation then.
“I have no direct personal knowledge, sir, but I have researched a great deal about it.”
Which, he supposed, explained the hesitation. But the idea of researching the complexities of everyday life with zero experience of it, stretched his credulity. Vane tried to keep that disbelief from his voice. “Researched it?”
“Yes, sir. I have talked to other people in my unit and accessed information through the Lattice.”
Everyday life as filtered through the minds of violent criminals and a military tactical data provider. The Commodore shook his head but let the naivety pass. His job was to confirm that this man met the criteria required and was fit to be released. In fact, it had been made very clear to Vane he should do whatever was needed to speed the process and allow as little questioning as possible.
But this man was no ordinary ex-criminal. Once – and for many years – his name topped ‘most wanted’ lists throughout the Central worlds and the broader Coalition: the Protectorates and Independent worlds. In Vane’s circle, this man’s name used to be a household word for mindless destruction – the bogeyman of ultimate evil.
Avilon Revid.
Vane found it a curious experience to meet the man behind the myth, but it made the responsibility he now held a heavy one, weighing up all the factors to consider if Revid should be discharged. Revid might have a legal right to be considered for release, but that was not the same as having the right to be released. That decision ultimately lay with Vane and it was one he was not finding at all straight forward.
“Well, you passed your orientation course without any problem and have been declared no danger to civilians.”
No danger.
A bureaucratic joke even a military man such as the Commodore could appreciate. All the Special Legion were more than just dangerous. All serving a sentence for extremes of violent crime. A sentence that included enforced invasive surgery, implants, and drugs to enhance their capabilities.
The brutal training regimens and suicidal military missions were sweetened by the promise of freedom after five years spotless service – a promise almost never fulfilled. In the eight years he had spent co-opted as commander of the Special Legion, perhaps a dozen other men had stood before Vane for discharge approval. Of those, less than half walked out as free citizens. He was not willing to risk any of the monsters he commanded back onto the streets without a very high threshold of evidence to demonstrate they were indeed ‘no danger to civilians’.
Vane nursed no illusions about the fate of those conscripted to serve under him. For the vast majority, joining the Specials meant nothing more than a deferred death sentence. His troops served with an average life expectancy of just under two years. Most died very quickly, either on active service or were killed in the gruelling training. Others fell afoul of their own violent recreational activities or failed to sustain the psychological strength needed and committed suicide. Some died in brawls or were murdered by their comrades. Yet it remained a truism whenever a dirty job needed doing anywhere in the Coalition’s sphere of influence, the Specials were first on the ground, often ahead of the AI mechs. Vane took pride from that. He heard the troops did too.
Ironically, it meant, to be standing here, this soldier could only be the toughest kind: a man who could survive and even thrive in such an environment.
If you want to keep reading, Trust A Few by E.M. Swift-Hook is FREE to download until 2 June. Check out these other FREE sci-fi and fantasy books available this weekend.
She watched as her only son waded into the moonlit sea. When a seaweedy head broke the waves, it was almost an anticlimax.
“Hold,” she cried, “by Ephrezel and Baliel I bid you hold.”
The merwoman froze.
“Who are you to call on the power of such as they?”
“I am the blood that leaps in his veins. He is mine.”
The merwoman showed bloodstained teeth.
“Very well, but be sure he comes not here again. Or next time he will see only what he wants to see.”
She disappeared beneath the waves and the boy broke down in tears.
When you’re in a singles bar
Friday night’s been dead so far
If he has his teeth and a car
Then he will do
If you’ve had enough Jim Beam
No request is too obscene
When you’re in a singles bar
At half past two
Fate’s a bitch
She brings bad luck
Nobody could give a f**k
Days like this they really suck
You know they do
If sometimes your life is shit
And you’re standing in a pit
Use your wits and shake your tits
It might just do
An extract from Hyde's Lament the sequel to Only The Few by L.N. Denison, set in a post-apocalyptic England. Which is FREE for you to download until Monday!
Two men, armed with semi-automatic rifles, entered the dingy makeshift medical wing of the bomb shelter. One held a straitjacket, and the other, a syringe. Looming over Hyde, the man with the syringe slowly motioned toward her thigh. Hyde had been watching them through her eyelashes, feigning sleep. Without warning, she opened her eyes, and widened them as the needle’s point headed towards her left leg.
“What’s that?” Hyde’s voice shook. “Get that thing away from me.”
Pulling violently on the tightening restraints, she could do nothing to resist the needle as it slid in.
“Just a little Diazepam to calm you for the short journey to the training facility, that’s all.” The man regarded her with indifference as he slowly pumped the drug into her system.
Hyde became weak as the drug took effect, relaxing her muscles as though she had no bones holding her together. Her eyes grew heavy as she struggled to keep them open. The men released her restraints but by then, she was too feeble to take advantage of it and had no way to resist as they lifted her off the bed. They threaded her limp arms through the sleeves of the straitjacket, fastening the buckles tight and forcing Hyde to exhale sharply. Each pull stole her breath away. The sleeves were wrapped across her chest and the ties secured behind her back. As well as being so relaxed she could hardly walk, she had now lost the use of her arms.
With a man stabilising her either side, Hyde was led out of the cold room into the corridor devoid of any life or feeling. The bad lighting seemed to be the norm in the bomb shelter. Whilst being pulled along, she took in the starkness of her surroundings as they passed her by. She tried to marshal her thoughts against the creeping effects of the drug that flowed through her system, and to resist being pulled..
“Don’t be getting any ideas in that pretty little head of yours,” One of the men said in Hyde’s ear. “I can see what you’re doing; I’m not stupid.” He stopped and pulled the thin, green cloth scarf from around his neck. Swaying unsteadily, Hyde could not stop him using the cloth to cover her eyes, depriving her of vision and winced as it was pulled tight around her head.
“If you can’t see where you’re going, you can’t think about escaping.”
Not that I could escape even if I wanted to, not in this thing…. fuckin’ idiot!
Now, completely in the dark, Hyde’s legs were made to walk faster than her body and mind would allow, but no amount of pulling back was going to stop the speed in which she was being carried along between the two soldiers.
She stumbled once and was hauled back upright.
“Don’t give me an excuse to hurt you, caver.”
And this is where it would begin: the name-calling and prejudice. She knew she had been changing, felt it happen, but they had not let her see the changes for herself. The thought left her heart heavy with sadness and dread. Am I really changing? I haven’t looked on my face in weeks. What have they done to me? I need to know.
A tug on the straitjacket sent Hyde to her knees, but with the momentum of the fall the two men could lift her straight back up and keep her moving. A sudden, jarring halt made her wary.
“You’ve reached the end of the line,” the man to her right said as he pushed her forward. There was the sound of a door being opened just in front of where she stood and then she was being pushed through it. Not being able to see, Hyde wasn’t sure what this room might be, but like everywhere else, it was a cold, and smelt damp… and unwelcoming.
“Bring her to me,” a man’s voice said from some distance away. “Take that blindfold off, and leave us.” They forced her forward, and removed the cloth from her eyes, then turned and left. The room she was in was as depressing as the one she had been dragged from, and to add to the anxiety that grew in her mind, she spotted a steel six by six cage in the corner, which she guessed was for her.
The only other occupant of the room was someone very familiar to her, and one that frightened her. It was Judd. But how? I was told that he was scheduled for execution. He should be dead by now. Hyde’s knees buckled, but there was no one to catch her this time. Judd watched as she fell, but did nothing to help her.
“Do you intend to stay there all day, Hyde?” Judd asked, his voice stern and angry. “Get to your feet, soldier. I won’t ask again.”
Hyde felt her gorge rise with anxiety, and the blood in her veins begun to run cold, as she tried, but failed several times to obey the captain’s order. With a sense of purpose, the man stalked towards her letting her see how displeased he was by the lack of response.
“Get to your feet,” he bawled as he bent over her. “You look disgusting, Hyde. Have you seen yourself lately?”
She answered with a single shake of her head and he stepped back, his nose wrinkling in disgust.
“Just get up!”
With no hands to push herself up, Hyde tried again to stand. It hurt to do so, as her muscles were still in such a state of relaxation from the Diazepam, that her whole body was uncooperative. It took every ounce of energy to keep her from falling again.
Grabbing at the straitjacket, Judd led her over to the cage and pushed her inside. He kept her trapped in her canvas prison as he closed the door and locked it.
“This will be your new home for next few months, get used to it.”
Matteo was big and stupid, with a side order of mean, so most everybody gave him a wide berth. He set eyes on sixteen-year-old Elisabetta waiting tables in her grandpappy’s pizzeria. But she would have none of him, which couldn’t be allowed to go unpunished.
He waited until she finished work, and grabbed her as she walked to the subway. Spinning her to face him he backhanded her so hard her slender neck whiplashed.
She didn’t bother to take the gun out of her handbag, merely shooting his fool head off through the leather and walking gracefully away.
From Pulling The Rug III by Jane Jago, one of 13 books in the Great Spring Giveaway of science fiction and fantasy books. You can pick them all up FREE for the next five days....
“All hail Emperor Sulieman and his Empress Leonore.”
People ran from their homes and businesses to line the streets and stare at their dark emperor in his dented armour and drink in the beauty of the velvet-clad empress.
At the palace, they rode through the wide open gates, and if the empress saw the heads that decorated the walls above the gatehouse she gave no sign. The first sign of any interest came as they progressed through the dragon’s garden.
“Husband,” she said in a wooden little voice, “why is that Drake so chained?”
“He always has been.”
“Always?”
“For a hundred and half a hundred years.”
She frowned. “Then it is past time to strike off his chains.”
“And let him fly away?”
“Whether he flies or does not fly is immaterial. He should not be thus imprisoned.”
Sulieman shrugged. “Very well. I will give the order.”
“And I will stay to see it done.”
She slipped from her horse and went to stand at the dragon’s head. Those who gathered in the garden were later to swear that it was as if the Ivory Empress and the green/gold dragon were communicating on some subliminal level too deep for mere humans to comprehend. But that was much later. Truth to tell nobody saw anything to remark save the straight tall figure of the Empress with one hand on the dragon’s neck as the smiths struck off the chains that held him captive. Once he was free the firedrake inclined his head to the Emperor, almost as equal to equal, before curling himself into the soft grass and closing his eyes.
Sulieman was curious. “Why does he not fly away?”
“On wings unused for more than a hundred years? It will take time before he can fly. If indeed he ever can.”
A shadow passed over Sulieman’s face and he tugged his intricately plaited beard. “I shall be sorry if that is true. Bad enough to be tricked and held prisoner, without being maimed.” He turned his handsome head towards the dragon. “Good firedrake,” he said with extreme formality, “if it should so be that the actions of my father’s father’s father have maimed thee. I would apologise and make such reparation as I can.”
For the first time since his capture the dragon spoke. His voice was like the crackle of flames around the Yuletide fire and it made one think of woodsmoke and autumn. “I think myself unhurt, Magister, it is just to think of whether I wish to go or stay a while and observe.”
Then he shut his mouth and closed his eyes.
Sulieman looked at his Empress. “He can speak, habiiba, why has he never spoken before?”
The Empress sighed. “For the same reason you did not beg your captors for water.”
Sulieman bowed his head. “That is hard hearing, and I feel shame that I had not thought that a firedrake may have his pride too. I should have freed him long since.”
For the first time in their too brief acquaintance, Leonore reached out a hand to her husband. It was a massive step forward and Sulieman smiled.
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First-Contact Science Fiction
Aliens Crashed in My Backyard by Mike van Horn
Singer Selena M rescues a very non-human alien from a crashed spaceship and nurses it back to health. She is surprised to discover that it communicates through song, and they help each other rekindle their passion for singing. But the government wants that spaceship and comes to take it from Selena.
How did this young alien escape her home world and make a taboo trip to Earth? What was she running from? How long before the Elders come after her?
Near-Future Science Fiction
Dragon Moon by Scott E, Tarbet
A new space race explodes into violence when China quietly sets its sights on the Moon. Now, an unlikely team of US Navy SEALs, Russian Spetsnaz, and a Chinese-American agent have one chance to stop the activation of China’s powerful new weapon before all hope is lost. The cost of failure: worldwide Chinese empire.
Urban Fantasy
Hunting Darkness by Ian Bristow
Driven by the death of his sergeant, Detective Inspector Hunter Davis sets out to solve a case they had closed the previous year. Soon he will discover that not all realities are explained on our terms, and sometimes the path we are so desperate to travel can lead to realms beyond our comprehension. Full of secrets from an ancient past, mystery and magic will collide in this captivating Urban Fantasy.
Dystopian
Hyde’s Lament by L.N. Denison
A revelation has been made, and it will change things forever. Forced into submission, Hyde’s life hangs in the balance. Can she overcome? Or will her captors succeed? It all ends here!
Sci-Fi Horror
I Killed the Man That Wasn’t There by Darrell B. Nelson
Four tales of Futuristic Horror.
Tales of revenge, retaliation and surprise set in the not so distant future.
Zombie Thriller
The Journey of Malchus by Chandra Truelove Fry
It’s the end of the world, and evil zombies have taken over!
Try convincing Malchus of that when he can understand and communicate with them…
Alternate History
Light’s Dawn by Yvette Bostic
Mikel, a young merchant with the East India Trading Company, always considered fortune to be his mistress…until the Amboyan Massacre. The Dutch spare his life, but he’s forced into the deep jungles of South America to act as bait for a hidden menace picking off their scouts one by one. It works all too well: a demonic horde, drawn into the open, annihilates the entire Dutch battalion, leaving Mikel running for his life.
Shifter Science Fantasy
Lost Dogs 1 by Nils Odlund
Sixteen years ago, Roy van Waldenberger made a promise to the woman he loved, and it’s ruled his life ever since: No cheating. No lies.
To save the few people he still cares about, Roy must turn his back on everything he believes in, break the promise he made, and defeat his own inner beast.
He’s not sure he can.
A Science Fiction and A Science Fantasy Anthology from Inklings Press
Tales from the Universe
Science fiction stories that deal with love, and fear, hope and despair, the ugliness of mankind and its beauty. Tales that reach to the farthest edge of the galaxy, and that face startling futures right here on Earth. These ten stories deal with artificial intelligences, cloning, aliens, war, peace and humanity’s place in it all.
Tales of Wonder
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Dark Space Opera
Trust a Few by E.M. Swift-Hook
“You’ve been gone a long time Jaz, and word is you’ve come back – changed.”
After five years of brutal convict military service, Jaz just wants to rebuild his shattered life. But the past is hard to escape. As Jaz tries to find an old friend who needs him, a new ally offers to help. But in the ‘City, who you decide to trust is a matter of life and death.
Comedy Horror
Zombie Turkeys by Andy Zach
Sam Melvin, an underachieving e-reporter from a small town, changes forever when he meets turkeys that won’t stay dead. You can shoot ’em, chop ’em, burn ’em—they come back stronger. The undead plague of poultry spreads uncontrollably, rocking the whole country. As Sam tracks down the zombie turkeys and how to eradicate them, his editor, Lisa Kambacher, nags him to turn his stories and expenses in on time.
We knew we shouldn’t oughter be swimming in the merman’s lake, but it was hot and we’d been working in the fields all day. The water was so cold it made you want to squeal, but we held our breath as we threw ourselves into the freezing depths. Rosie saw him first as he lifted his naked body out of the reeds. He waded towards us shaking water out of his long hair.
“Do us reckon he got legs?” Rosie breathed.
“I dunno. But I ain’t stopping to find out.”
“Me neither.”
We held hands and ran for our lives.
.... or 'How To Speak Typo' by Jane Jago
abaresque (adjective) – of or relating to scandipop
bedthong (noun) – alternative nightwear for those hot summer nights
carcodile (adjective) – queue of Chelsea Tractors outside a Montessori School at three pm
claimign (verb) – walking very carefully as if one has had a spoon inserted in one’s rectum
expsired (adjective) – father unknown likely to be an alien
imajine (verb) – to think weird stuff when very drunk
inaccrate (adjective) – travelling in a very old car
insipration (noun) – an attempt to breathe in that is frustrated by a cat sitting on your chest
migic (adjective) – shiny and full of spurious joyfulness
phre (adjective) – slightly sweaty and deeply afraid
rednack (adjective) – sunburned wedding tackle among the lower classes
retcal (adjective) – of thermometers, spectacularly inaccurate
therecus (noun) – small rat living in the underwear of obese teenagers
Disclaimer: all these words are genuine typos defined by Jane Jago. The source of each is withheld to protect the guilty.
When Walter Smith retired, his replacement was a young giant with thighs like an oak tree and broad capable hands. His name was Eudric and his guileless blue eyes told of a simple man with a gentle uncomplicated nature.
All the young women in the village sat up and took notice, but he saw none of them except the innkeeper’s homely middle-aged daughter who he courted with gentle persistence.
When he shyly asked for her hand in marriage she smiled and kissed him.
“Yes please. But why me?”
“Because you are kind. And clever enough for both of us.”
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