‘Right, back to the job in hand. Hakim has been given a week to come up with the train ticket. The decoy crew is already in place in Tashkent and spending money like water, as is the ‘slave buyers’ caravan that is slowly crossing the desert. As soon as the Alban princess arrives here, we can begin arranging our own city-bound caravan. Only problem so far could be the black ninjas, who are already spoiling for a fight.’
‘They need a job. Send them out to look for Hakim and his men. They won’t find anyone, but it’ll keep them out of mischief.’ ‘That’s a good notion. Otherwise, as far as I can see everything is on schedule. Have you become aware of any hitches?’
‘No. Other than my personal boredom, which I’ll just have to put up with.’
‘You will, love. And it does have the fringe benefit of you not bothering to dress, which makes you nice and available.’
She made a very rude noise at him, and he looked at her with the slightly crooked grin that turned her knees to water. Then he leaned over and patted her hand, which she interpreted as sarcasm, which, in turn, could have earned him a broken wrist on another day.
‘You shit’ she said conversationally ‘you know I won’t damage you when we’re working. But don’t push your luck. I have a long memory.’
‘I know you do. But this time I honestly wasn’t winding you up. It just hit me that you are actually pregnant, and I wanted to touch you to make sure I’m not dreaming.’
‘Idiot! This ain’t no dream. But I kind of understand, so I won’t put that one on your account.’
‘Thanks love. I’ll add it to the list of favours I owe you instead.’
‘You do that. And where’s my dinner? Is Cookie catching a goat himself, or warming the food between his thighs?’
‘That’s a revolting image, and almost makes me want to cancel your dinner. However, I hear the sound of Cookie’s delicate feet so it’s too late.’
The flap of leather in the corner lifted to disclose a hugely fat man followed by a couple of boys.
‘Food’ he said in a high treble voice. ‘Excuse the delay. Boris tipped up. Hungry. I had to protect the kitchen maids from his wandering hands while I waited to get bread out of the oven.’
While he was speaking the two boys set bowls of savoury smelling stew, plus a basket of hot bread and another of preserved dates and sharp, salty cheese on a low table.
Ida laughed. ‘Okay Cookie. In that case you are forgiven. When you go back to the kitchen you can tell my cousin that I’ll personally castrate him with a blunt knife if any of my staff turn up pregnant on his account.’
Cookie bowed as low as his bulk permitted before taking himself and his helpers back to his domain.
As they went, Grendal grinned at his lady.
‘Cookie versus Boris. That I’d like to see.’
‘No contest Cookie would just sit on Boris.’

From Billion Dollar Mountain by Jane Jago

The sun rose over the meadow, painting the horizon in crimson and gold.
Leaning on the fence, Reuben watched, as he had every day for fifty years. He should have been overseeing his small flock, sold last year when there was no money left to keep them. He’d had to sell his handful of acres too.
With a roar heavy plant began tearing up his old meadow. A luxury development the sign said.
Sighing, Reuben headed home.
Thank goodness he’d sold with planning permission. Maybe, after he got back from the cruise, he’d put a jacuzzi in his refurbished cottage…

E.M. Swift-Hook

… or ‘How To Speak Typo’ by Jane Jago

acupe (noun) – very small brassiere 

anumle (adjective) – of eggs being in that state when they may be edible or wholly rotten

bsaterd (noun) – unpleasant man with a motorcycle 

dtoard (adjective) – half shaven

ehro (noun) – the sound a politician makes when trying to avoid a question

evrsion (noun) – not a tree book

forule (noun) – committee of four 

gunad (noun) – single testicle hanging at a very strange angle

muther (noun) – female dog of dubious parentage 

panster (noun) – crap cook

promambly (verb) – walking to a school dance

realstionship (noun) – a small boat loaded with inebriated picnickers which is in imminent danger of capsize

sogra (noun) – toast that has been dropped into a cup of tea

snadle (noun) – twentieth century scolds bridle

thimk (adjective) – slow of thought and easily goshswoggled 

vorgun (noun) – little-known species of Star Trek villain

vxie (adjective) – of young women, spirited and liable to bite

The boat collided with reality at a mooring in a backwater. Beauty stepped aboard and the crew cast off in silence. 

He took her hands.

“Two days,” he said brokenly, “I can only give you two days. And what if we make a child?”

“Then it will be the glory of my life.”

Three hard years of duty and he was free. He stood outside her house hardly daring to breathe. As he lifted his hand to knock, the door opened and he found himself looking down into the eyes of a girl child.

“Hello,” she said, “my name’s Glory”.

©️Jane Jago  

The old woman was quick to return. She brought with her a younger woman who, although long past the first flush of youth, was attractive, plump and dark haired. She wore heavy bangles on her wrists and ankles which clattered with the slightest movement. The man stood up as they entered, dropping the blanket back and said something to the younger of the two women who bobbed meekly and then turned to Avilon.
“The Captain say I speak for him to you,” she told him in a thickly accented and ungrammatical version of Coalition Standard Speech. Avilon smiled at her with real warmth.
“That’s so good to hear. Will you please ask the Captain if he can give me news of the other people who were in – “
The man spoke roughly across him and the dark haired woman muttered something back, then said to Avilon: “The Captain say you to get strong and do as told. No fighting or he beat you.”
Anger flowed in Avilon and he banished it before it could find any visible expression.
“Tell the Captain that I will get strong a lot quicker if the old woman stops feeding me drugs and if I am not kept chained.”
As the woman translated quickly the man frowned at her, snapping out a curt reply. “The Captain say the Kashlihk will stay with chains until he does as says.”
Avilon was about to reply, when the man said something more and the dark haired woman looked suddenly more nervous.
“The Captain say tomorrow you walk and he see how strong are you. He say I to stay with you and speak for you.”
“How long does he intend to keep me like this?”
She asked his question hesitantly and the man looked at Avilon with an almost contemptuous coldness as he replied.
“The Captain say we keep you until the caravan reach Alfor. You be to sell in Alfor.”
To sell.
He had his answer and it chilled his blood. Now he understood why they were taking such care over his treatment – it was not from any compassion, it was from simple greed. To these people he was not a person: he was livestock – nothing more than an object to be sold.
A thing.
Even to his enemies in the Coalition he was more than that. At least they regarded him as an individual and a human being worthy of hate and fear, if nothing else.

From The Fated Sky part one of Fortune’s Fools Transgressor Trilogy by E.M. Swift-Hook

Valeria Dalca held up the vial.
“And this holds immortality?”
Cahaya shook her head.
“Not immortality. You can still die from illness or accident. It just reverses and prevents the degeneration of natural ageing.”
Dalca made a dismissive gesture.
“Immortality in effect. But is humanity ready for it?”
“Of course. It’ll make people value life more as it is no longer ephemeral. It will make them consider how they treat the planet as they themselves, not their descendants, will be living with the consequences.”
Dalca smiled and put down the vial.
“You really don’t understand people very well do you?”

E.M. Swift-Hook

A short but punchy sci-fi story

The thing about sci-fi short stories is that in the space of a mere handful of words they need to create an entire universe for the reader – then people it and give those people a purpose.

I have to say that in Early Departure the author achieves this very well and we learn of a future where AI space vessels built to assist humanity – from mining craft to plasma firing ones – escaped into the wild and now restrict human activity in the solar system by attacking their creators.

This is definitely a concept/plot driven story with the characters there to tell it to us rather than as the foci of the telling, but that is how most such concept sci-fi short stories are written and it works within the limitations of the genre.

So the ideas are what take us through the unfolding of events, and the ideas that hold the reader interested, rather than the fate of the people.

Overall, this is a punchy sci-fi short story which will stir the grey cells and entertain at the same time – and has the additional delight of some cool pictures to illustrate it all from the author’s father.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Artificial Intelligence. Built to do a job. Then abandoned.

Humans are so surprised when it gets annoyed and bites them.

Welcome to the world of Early Departure. A world wherein humans want to flee their planet and the things they built won’t let them.
If you take this story out of the context of science fiction and place it in fairytale land, it becomes the classic tale of the abandoned child that seeks to kill its father.

The concept is interesting and it is competently dealt with. For my own preference I would have preferred a closer connection with the characters, but that’s more a personal comment than a complaint.

Read and enjoy. A solid four stars.

Jane Jago

The no-feathers captured him and kept him tethered on their belching, stinking ship. He didn’t understand that, or why the sky turned first black then red before the rains rained without mercy. By their lights, his captors were not unkind – but they would not let him fly.

Then one day, when it seemed to him that the rain had been gone a long time, they came to him and untied his tether.

“Fly,” the smallest one said, “and come back to guide us when you find land.”

He stretched his wings. “Caw,” he said harshly, “Return? I think not.”

©️Jane Jago  

Because life can be interesting when you are a character in a video game…

“Wait here,” she instructed and turning sharply on her heel she strode off towards the ramp that led up to the stilt-village. The griblin with a fishing spear grimaced as she approached.
“Ryeshor. We no see lizard people here. Strange stories. Dry lands.” It broke off and sniffed at the air. “You not Visitor. What you do here?”
“No I’m not a Visitor,” Milla agreed. “I’m a Local like you. But I’m on a venture with two Visitors and we need to go through your village.”
The griblin looked across to Glory and Pew and sniffed again, but this time it was more sniffing to show distaste.
“The elf, griblin friend. Can come in. The ryshor, not friend. Can’t pass.”
Milla sighed.
“I know Pew hasn’t proved himself to you, but he’s a decent person. I can vouch for him if that helps. Please let us pass.” The griblin shook its head.
“Can’t. ‘Gainst the lore.”
“But we have to get through the village. Lives depend on it!”
The griblin looked almost sympathetic but still shook its head.
“Can’t. Me sorry. Can’t break lore.”
“But there must be a way.” Milla was beginning to feel as despondent as Pew looked. She reached into her back pack to see what she had that might help. “I can give you some flyberry cookies? A pot of healing salve? A vial of dog spit? A shell necklace? Two sandylion manes?” At each item she drew out and offered, the griblin looked wistfully but then shook its head. “What about all of them? And the backpack too?”
The griblin considered its face distorted into a gurn. Then it seemed to reach some decision and gave a sharp nod.
“I trade,” it said at last.
Milla felt a wash of relief and smiled.
“So if I give you my backpack and everything in it, Pew can go through the village?”
The griblin shook its head quickly.
“No. Got to obey the lore. Me trade something for backpack. Me trade information.”
Milla’s heart sank again.
“What kind of information?”
“Get you past village. Not through. Under. Exploit. Graphics glitch.”
Milla knew what a glitch was. Pew had explained it to her. He even thought she might be one as she could do things no other Local seemed to be able to do.
“Tell me.”
The griblin held out its free hand. “Backpack first.”
Milla reluctantly handed it over and watched with growing disgust as the griblin took out the vial of dog spit and swilled it down with every sign of delight.
“Tasties!” it declared, smacking its lips. “Now. Me tell you information. One day me sees two Visitors too lazy to make friends with griblins. They talk of this thing. Exploit, they call it. They go to that tree.” It pointed. “Jump into swamp. Swim under village. Me sees other Visitors try same. Wrong tree. All others try wrong tree. Not swim under village. All talk of seeking exploit tree and graphics glitch.”
The griblin gave her a quick grin.
“You friends in trouble, me thinks.”
Milla spun around and saw Pew and Glory were fighting off more firedrakes. Calling her thanks to the griblin as she ran, Milla grabbed at her pendant, just as Pew was about to lose his magical shield. One of the drakes swooped over her and she felt a sharp pain as it spat fire which caught the frills of her crest.
““By the power of My Skull!”
Milla ducked as Glory’s sword followed the drake over her head, if she hadn’t flattened her crest the dragonblade would have sliced through it.
“Seriously Glory, that quest is a fragging PITA. Can’t you delete it or something?” Pew was breathing heavily as the last of the firedrakes popped out of existence, hit by his rapid fire mini fireballs.
“I’m on the last step. You know how long the class quests are. I was trying to finish it when you guys dragged me off here, so no, I can’t delete it.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Same difference.”
Milla had to wonder how these people ever managed to get along for long enough to complete a group venture. Ever Visitor she’d ever met seemed to argue with the others about something. She spoke quickly.
“I can get us to the lake without Pew having to be friends with the griblin.”
The two Visitors stopped arguing and stared at her.
“You can? But how?”
Glory looked and sounded disbelieving but Pew was smiling at her.
“You are amazing, Milla. I know I tell you that every day, but… you are.”
The elf made a harrumphing sound.
“Blech! Get a room! But first tell me how we do this?”

We will return to Wrathburnt Sands by E.M. Swift-Hook next Sunday.

Return to Wrathburnt Sands was first published in Rise and Rescue Volume 2: Protect and Recover.

September came with sticky fingers
Damply clad the browning trees
Blew on our necks, where dampness lingers
While wet grasses whipped our knees
And, wearing coats ‘gainst sulky rain
We struggled through the thickening air
As water muddied dusty drains
And droplets gathered in our hair
The dogs, who run through heat and sun
Draggled panting far behind
Or came to say ‘this isn’t fun’
To rather hope we’d change our minds
But where the river sings we stood
Listening, as they drank their fill
Finding the water clean and good
Before we climbed the final hill
We panting stood, as all around
September shouted ‘summer’s gone’
In words that needed not a sound
She plainly sang us winter’s song

©️jj 2021