It was to be the battle to end all battles and the enemy seemed to fill the horizon. The soldier took a photograph from the breast pocket of his battledress jacket. He looked at it for a second before tenderly kissing that beloved face.

Half a world away, his young wife felt that kiss as she laboured to bring his son into the world. She was comforted.

Three hours later as she held her newborn babe to her breast, she felt those lips again. This time, though, she heard a longed for voice.

“Sorry, love,” it said.

And she knew. 

©️jj 2018

“You can confirm your registered name is Charity Sweetling?”
Charis nodded, expecting to see the usual smile when she gave her full name, but this official just raised an eyebrow.
“I need you to answer me, please. You are in no way disabled so a full verbal answer is required.”
“Oh. Sure. Sorry. Yes. That is my registered name. But could I ask what this is about?”
The official glanced up, looking back to his screen, as if he had not heard her question.
“You were born on a non-Coalition planet and arrived in Central when you were assessed as being an estimated four years old, a certain Vor Franet declared you as a seeker of asylum on the grounds that were you to be returned to your home you would face certain abuse through enslavement.”
Charity nodded again, then realised and said quickly: “Yes.”
The official went on in the same uninflected voice as if he were reading a shopping list rather than dissecting her life.
“You were accepted into the Coalition Protected Children Program and placed with a family who ensured you received an appropriately supervised upbringing and education. On achieving full majority and adult status you undertook the required military service of the Program and completed it successfully.”
The official stopped again and looked across at her.
“I think it’s a bit unfair to describe my upbringing as just ‘appropriately supervised’. My parents gave me the very best they could. They gave me an awesome upbringing, a loving upbringing, a fun and caring upbringing – ”
“Var Sweetling,” the man cut across her, “are you wanting to challenge your upbringing as not being appropriately supervised? Or report the Coalition Program has been at fault in some way?”
Charis shook her head. Then, under the expectant glare of the man sitting opposite her, said: “No, I do not want to challenge anything about my upbringing.”
“And you will confirm the other details I stated are correct? Or do you need me to repeat them for you?”
Charity began to feel uneasy. This appointment, at almost zero notice, had been pushed on her out of the blue in a severely worded linkmail, which made it clear failure to comply would lead to any number of unpleasant consequences. It meant she needed to take half a day off work and fly back overnight from her scheduled stop-over to make it, forcing poor Ebon to jig some very creative adjustments to the roster. But since it came with the badge of the Central Immigration Taskforce, she was obliged to attend. Charis linked her mother as soon as the appointment arrived, but even she had no idea what it could be about.
“Probably just some un-dotted I or uncrossed T in their internal files,” her mother said. “But if it turns out there is a problem, just let me know and we’ll get it sorted out. Do you want me to come down there with you as your legal representative?”
Sometimes having a lawyer for a mother could be very reassuring. But Charis, not wanting to force her into the three-day planet hop it would have meant, told her not to bother and promised to let her know how it went.
“Var Sweetling? This is very important. Can you please confirm -”
“Uh – yes. Yes, you have the facts right.”
The official went on: “You have been employed as a pilot for the last eight years, working for the Rota Corporation in a role which complied with the reserved occupations list.”
“If by that you mean shunting big freighters around the galaxy, then yes.”
The official nodded as if pleased she grasped the idea of the interview at last.
“And you recently moved your occupation to work for – ” He paused as if in doubt about the words on the screen he read from. “The Wild Ride Superb Bus.”
There was an awkward silence.
“It is a tourist shuttle a good friend of mine, Ebon Wild, set up – it’s not really a job, more of a sabbatical. Just a chance to do something a bit different before I go back to cargo shunting.”
“I only require you to confirm the veracity of the details I have here, please, Var Sweetling.”
“Oh for -” she bit back the words and tried to calm down. “I mean, yes. Yes, I can confirm it. But what is all this about?”
“Your present occupation is not on the reserved list, Var Sweetling.”
Charity struggled to see that as an explanation and shook her head.
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything. It is a temporary contract and when it expires I’m back to the big ships again. Rota even told me they would take me back right away no need to go through the application and trials again. Like I said before, it is more of a sabbatical to help a friend get their start-up off the ground. Literally.”
The official seemed to be listening and waited, wearing a polite expression of indifference until she finished.
“Your present occupation,” he repeated, in the same toneless voice as before, “is not on the reserved list.”
Charis felt the confusion returning. It made no sense.
“I really do not understand what this is about.”
“Let me put it in plain words, Var Sweetling -”
“Oh please do, plainer the better – this is just sounding bizarre.”
“The Security of Place and Persons Committee has decided the term of your asylum is now over. The original conditions of it being in place – you being an unescorted minor in need of safety – no longer apply and the sole mitigation you held through working in reserved employment, is no longer valid. As a result, Var Sweetling I need to inform you that you are no longer a citizen of Central nor – since you were born outside it – of the Coalition.”

Concludes next week…

Part One of a glimpse into Fortune's Fools  Haruspex:Trust A Few by E.M. Swift-Hook.

“Anybody with that big a nose, and that many cats, has to be a witch.” 

The chunky man’s voice was obviously accustomed to being listened to.

“All the more reason not to annoy her, then.”

“I’ll annoy who I want. All I’m saying is that nobody will mind if we run her out of town. Right?”

He  bulked his muscles and stared belligerently around him. Nobody, it seemed, cared to take up the challenge. He laughed coarsely.

“C’mon. Let’s go get us a farmstead.”

To this day nobody is entirely sure how he came to shoot himself in both kneecaps…

©️jj 2018

The Voyage of the Entdecker is the first of five books in the Archipelago Series by B.A. Simmons. Book two, The Hellhound Consortium, is available and book three will be out in January, 2019.

The Voyage of the Entdecker by B.A. Simmons was released in January, 2017 through Glass Spider Publishing. It is a Young Adult Science Fiction novel set on the planet Archipelago. Archipelago is a world of islands and ocean; there are no continents. Humans live on this planet. They are the descendants of a failed human colony. Earth is a myth to them, like Atlantis or Shangri La. Now, hundreds of years later, one of these descendants, Rob Engleman sets out on a journey of discovery on a mysterious ship. He, along with some friends, his brother and cousins, will discover the lost history and lost technology of humans on Archipelago. Yet the dangers of the alien planet and of more ambitious humans threaten to destroy all Rob and his friends love and live for. 
They sailed along the western edge of the dangerous shoals for two days when they noted a wreck. She was more than two hundred feet inside the rocks, stuck fast upon two of the spear-like protrusions. After a quick consultation with Tom, Mark decided they should maneuver the Entdecker to look for survivors and salvage anything valuable.
Tom carefully handled the waves and backwashes but the Entdecker still bumped gently against the submerged masses. One collision was hard enough to spring a leak in the hull. Rob and Anna were quick to use the tar ropes to plug it. As they came alongside the wreck, they used the gaff hook and anchor to stabilize them against it. Mark, Rob, and Edwin clambered aboard.
The ship was a grand caravel class, but she was a grand mess at that moment. Both her masts were snapped and lay athwartship port, the sails torn to ribbons. Various ropes and lines were strewn about the deck as she lay at a twenty-degree list. It was difficult to walk on the slippery surface with its slope, and they had to mind the gaping hole between the masts where the grating over the cargo hatch was broken away.
Edwin used the stray ropes to lift himself up for a better view of the inside of the hold. Rob and Mark made their way aft toward what they hoped would be the captain’s cabin.
“Look there,” shouted Edwin as he pointed down into the hold. Mark and Rob delicately stepped over chunks of wood and rope to approach the open hatch.
“I still can’t see anything,” Mark called back to Edwin.
“There’s ore down there. Probably copper, but it’s under a few feet of water so it’s hard to say for sure. It could be gold.”
“Ingots or unrefined?” Rob asked.
“Ingots! Several tons of them.”
The smile on Edwin’s face was luminous. He found a rope that was still attached to the hull above him and tossed the loose end down the hatch. He had no sooner done so when two enormous tentacles shot out from the hold and flailed about.
Mark and Rob scrambled back to the cabin door. They made it through as one of the tentacles followed them and swept the deck aft. Edwin climbed higher up and over the starboard side of the ship. He hung there while the other tentacle reached around trying to find him. After a minute of searching, both tentacles retreated.
Mark and Rob both motioned for Edwin to climb to them. Over the sounds of the wind and the crash of waves on the rocks, they could hear Tom and Anna’s voices calling out. Edwin, who could see the Entdecker as it bobbed up and down next to the wreck, gestured for them to remain quiet. He climbed sideways across the railing until he was just above the doorway. With surprising agility, he swung himself over and slid down the deck grabbing Mark’s hand as he came to it. Again, the long tentacle reached out and tried to find the source of the vibrations it sensed. Mark pulled Edwin into the cabin and they forced the door shut.

B.A. Simmons in his own words:

I am a child of the Rocky Mountains. I grew up in Montana, Colorado, Idaho and Utah; roaming the mountains and valleys. I have been writing since I was ten years old. Mostly science fiction, a bit of fantasy, some poetry and even journalism. I am a graduate of Utah State University majoring in English Education with a history minor. I teach English at North Ogden Jr. High School; writing, ultra running and playing role-play games in my spare time. 

A Bite of... B.A. Simmons

Q1: Have you ever written somebody you love into a book? 

In book three of my series (finished last month, to be released in January) I wrote minor character who is basically my dad. I love my dad, but I killed the character off. My dad is one of my beta-readers and didn’t comment about this character. I am still wondering if he even noticed this character.

Q2: Facing your demons? How much of what you write could be classed as therapy?

Writing is definitely therapy for me. I don’t think of it as ‘facing my demons’, at least not in the traditional sense. I was that kid who was always off in La La Land. I have a vivid and immersive imagination with myriad worlds. It’s a miracle I made it through school. So, in a way, my imagination is a demon that threatens to control my life. Writing is my way of taming the demon; making it do what I want it to and possibly earning me a little money as well. 

Q3: How much of you is in your hero? 

My protagonist is me, but he’s everyone else also. I actually blogged about this recently on my website. I tried to write Rob Engleman so that he is the average human male. There is absolutely nothing special about him. He’s intelligent but not a genius, he’s semi-athletic, but certainly no Achilles. There’s no magic, no superpowers and even technology is limited on my world. Rob is a nobody, but everybody at the same time. 

You can catch up with B.A. Simmons on Facebook, Twitter and his own web page.

Kerebos stared into the deep greenness of the looking glass. He curled a lip to display razor sharp teeth with diamond bright edges. He was the High King’s hunting hound, who brought instant death wherever his master decreed. But he hunted not for eating meat. Man was his prey. The murderer. The rapist. The thief. The old. The young. The guilty? The innocent? He knew not, nor did he question.

In another place and another time, another killer watched himself in a broken shard of greenish mirror. In that world, when duty called, Spot the terrier went to hunt rats.

©️jj 2018

Gloria turned to greet Danny and Paul with considerable affection, and he introduced Ben and Colin who were both obviously fascinated by Pats and her exotic dress sense. She looked at their faces and howled with laughter.
“Sorry boys. I ain’t a drag queen, but you can think of me as one if it helps.”
“What’s a drag queen?” Charlie demanded.
“None of your never mind young Cracksman,” Danny pretended to be severe, before bending to hug both small boys and offer a simple explanation.”

Jim took advantage of the moment of relative privacy and wrung Sam’s hand.
“Congratulations, mate. You do right by Anna and the Cracksman family has your back for the rest of your life.”
Sam grinned and gripped Jim’s huge hand.
“I will. I had a lousy marriage, now I have the woman of my dreams. I aim to spend the rest of my life showing her how much that means.”
“I know, mate,”Jim said quietly. “That’s exactly how I feel about Pats. She may not be to everyone’s taste but from where I’m standing the sun rises and sets in her eyes.”
“I get that,” Sam agreed. “Sometimes I look at Anna and my heart just stops.”

They might have said more, but were interrupted by another knock on the door. Mrs Jackson arrived, escorted up the path by her taxi driver and her nephew.
“I’ll collect you at six-thirty if I don’t hear to the contrary,” the taxi man said before sloping off.
“You look lovely Mrs J,” Sam said, kissing the papery old cheek.
“Get along with you flatterer,” the old lady blushed to the roots of her immaculately coiffured snowy-white hair.
“Mrs J, this is my wife, Anna.”
“Your wife?”
“Yes we were married privately yesterday. This is our wedding party.”
Mrs Jackson studied Anna for a moment, then positively beamed at her.
“Congratulations to you both.”
She kissed Sam, and pressed Anna’s hand. Danny crooked an elbow and escorted the tiny, upright figure to the dining room, where she could inspect the wedding pictures.

A rather shy knock at the door heralded Sam’s cousin, Lucie, who proved to be a big shouldered girl with the brown complexion of somebody who lived outdoors. She looked at Anna for a few moments, taking in the aura of serenity that Anna wore as easily as her skin.
“It looks to me as if my idiot cousin has made a sensible decision at last. I hope we can be friends.”
“Me too.”

After that, people started arriving in earnest, and soon the house was full of laughter and chattering, and hugging and a few tears, as everyone studied the wedding pictures and wrote good wishes, and the odd cheeky comment in Colin’s book.

When everyone had arrived Colin appeared at Anna’s elbow.
“Nibbles before this lot get too pissed?”
“Fine idea.”

Once the nibbles had been enthusiastically hoovered up, Anna called everyone to help themselves to lunch. Instead of the expected stampede there was an ordered progression to the buffet. Patsy had taken a hand, and ensured that everyone was served smoothly. She made sure that Mrs Jackson was first, and waited until last herself. Anna stood back and laughed. Sam joined her with plate and fork in hand.
“I love that woman,” he remarked.
The woman in question appeared at Anna’s elbow, with a plate in her hand.
“You cooked. Now eat. I know what you like.”
Then she was gone.
Sam looked at the plate.
“She does know what you like.”
“Oh yeah. And she means to look after me. I just have to not let her bully me any more.”
“Think you can manage it?”
She grinned crookedly.
“Surprisingly enough, I do. I’ve got you now, and I find that gives me more courage than I have ever had in my life. I want Pats as a friend like she always has been, but I ain’t going to let her tell me what to do.”
Sam studied her determined face.
“I think you’ll manage it. Your Patsy doesn’t strike me as stupid and I’m convinced she want to stay your friend. Anyway I’m hardly the right person to lecture anyone about not allowing themselves not to be bullied. I let Christina grind me down so far that I didn’t even respect myself.”
Anna squeezed his hand.
“We won’t let anybody bully us any more. We’ve got each other now.”
“We do.” He lifted her hand to his lips, only to hear a choking sound from behind them.
“Oh yuk”, Paul exclaimed, “stop slobbering will you.”
Anna aimed a cuff at his head.
“People that want pudding had better zip their lip.”
He grinned cheekily, but made a zipping gesture with his left hand across his mouth. A chuckle from under the table revealed that the smallest Cracksmen were ensconced on the stretcher that ran along under the middle of Sam’s handiwork.

Paul bent and grinned down at the grinning children.
“Yo men. What you doing under the table?”
“Mummy always lets us sit under the table when it’s a buf-fet,” Bill explained. “We are nice and near to the food and we don’t have to listen to grown-ups talk…”
“Sensible men. I may just join you.”
Bill crowed with delighted laughter, but Charlie looked severe.
“How old are you?”
Anna laughed out loud.
“In his head he’s seven-and-a-half.”
Charlie grinned.
“He can come in then. If he really wants.”
Paul was on his knees and under the table in a flash.

Jane Jago

She sat outside her cave. Her face was as seamed as the striated rocks behind her, and grime was ingrained into every crusty crack.

But still they came.

The rich, the famous, the desperate, all seeking enlightened words. To some she vouchsafed nothing and they crept away, ashamed. To others she gave but one word of hope. The third group bathed in the almost sightless seeming whiteness of her eyes and heard her words of wisdom.

When the last named supplicant backed away, she plugged her iPhone into its solar charger and offered a silent prayer of thanks for Google.

©️jj 2018

Some days it might amuse the muse
To sit in offended silence
Or to place stones in both your shoes 
And push your head to violence
Other days, on what path you choose
The words may fall like rain
Oh fickle muse – use, abuse, confuse
And play tricks with the brain
While some say if you have no muse
Your writing won’t be cool
I’m fairly sure that’s just an excuse 
For being a lazy fool

©️JJ 2018

An extract from the upcoming Fortune's Fools novel Iconoclast:Not To Be by E.M. Swift-Hook.

Her first glimpse of the ‘City was not that inspiring. It looked like just about every other metropolis in the galaxy she had ever visited, not that she knew too many of those, but nothing here stood out as unique. Except that it was midday in local time and already getting dark. That was the other thing everyone knew about Thuringan. The planet had a long rotation and that meant some days the sun never set and others it never rose. Then the ones in between it got dark in the middle of the day.
A spatter of rain made her pick up speed towards her destination. For all Lorelea didn’t know the ‘City, she was sure there would be a Clan community and that she wouldn’t have to go far to find it. According to the local link network there was a bar called ‘The Open Road’, which sat hard by the spaceport. The name and location gave it away. She followed the augmented directions to an eatery tucked in beside some cheap-looking housing units a short walk away. The tang of traditional spices greeted her as she stepped inside.
Surely if she was going to find any friends in the ‘City it would be here? But none of the people eating their lunch looked to her to be obvious Clan and it was not so easy to just walk up to someone and ask…
Something on the menu caught her eye. She ordered and got a quick double-take from the young man at the counter, but then she had ordered a dish only Clan would eat, the bitterleaf herbs in it being very much an acquired taste. He served her quickly and without comment.
It was just after she had taken a seat and was savouring the aroma of her meal that someone slid into the seat opposite.
“You Lastas?”
The man was grey haired and bearded though wearing a look that said he was not much slowed down by it. He had come from the staff area behind the sleek counter, so he wasn’t just a visitor like she was. Lorelea nodded cautiously, making it a slight, brief, movement. She wasn’t too surprised he had recognised her. Her long face with it’s high cheekbones would always give her heritage away to other Clans.
“My grandpa was too – on my father’s side, you understand,” he said.
She did. It meant the connection between them was very loose, not like he was related on his heritage side, the maternal side.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, her tone rising into a question.
“Lienz.”
“Lorelea.”
“You here alone?”
Never let them think you’ve not got back up.
“Uh – no. Well right now, yes, but I have family in the ‘City.”
The eyes as grey as the hair and beard widened very slightly.
“Strange. I think I’d have heard if any Lastas hit town. Stranger still, I heard you’d parked a ship on your own.
How could he know that?
Lorelea met his gaze with a slight shrug. Suddenly she wasn’t sure what she should share and what she should keep secret. He was Clan, but not her own, and she couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
It’s not something you can do there, Lea, in the ‘City a mistake gets you dead.
“Does it matter?”
“Not really,” he said, his expression caught between amusement and something else – something Lorelea didn’t recognise. “Let me get you a drink on the house and you can tell me what you need. A place to stay? Work?”
All those things seemed to reek of permanence, of staying here indefinitely and something deep inside her revolted at the thought.
“Information,” she said. “I was trying to find someone.”
Lienz leant back and looked appraising, as if her admission had changed something very fundamental in their relationship.
“Well, you’ve come to the right person for that. I know just about everyone worth knowing in the ‘City. But you need to be careful who you go asking about, Lorelea Lastas, and who you ask. This isn’t a good place to be asking questions about some people, if you get my meaning.”
She finished eating and pushed the empty away. Avoiding his gaze because, his words reminded her of how vulnerable she really was in this place. “Thanks. I’ll have that drink.”
Lienz made a gesture and a young man came running from behind the counter, a tattoo clear on his forearm. A Clan tattoo. Mendive. Lorelea felt her heart pick up a little and wished she knew more about current clan politics. She had no idea if Lastas and Mendive were on good terms or not. There had been a feud, she knew, but that was when she was a child. A lot could have changed since then. She let Lienz order the drinks and wondered if she had been as clever to come here as she had thought. The older man might have read her thoughts, or perhaps he had seen her react to the clan mark on the youngster who served them.
“In the ‘City we have enough other problems than to go fretting around over Clan history, you know. We’re all blood if we go back far enough and here, well, that counts for a bit more than any daft family feuds.”
His smile was reassuring, but she still wondered if he was just saying the words or if he really meant them.
“Even if so – I -“
“We’re cousins, Lorelea. I’ve Lastas blood in my veins.” He smiled at her and raised his drink in a silent toast. Outsider style. She felt a release of tension she hadn’t realised she held. He had claimed her as kin – family. Clan. Despite herself she returned his smile.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Welcome. Now what are you doing here on your own? I had heard your people had pretty much settled in the same place the last thirty odd years or more. “
“Like I said. I need to find someone.”
The steady gaze seemed to harden slightly, but not at her – more on her account.
“Someone hurt you?”
She shook her head quickly, annoyed he could see.
“No. This is a friend. He may be in trouble.”
Again, she felt the weighing judgement of Lienz’s eyes. It was as if for every word she spoke he was reading another half-hundred behind.
“This isn’t a good place to be in trouble,” he said, after a few moments. “I think you don’t want to get this friend of yours into any more so won’t tell me his name until you trust me some. Which is a shame as trouble often moves fast in the ‘City.”
“I don’t even know for sure he is here,” Lorelea could hear the defensive protest in her own voice. Lienz was right though. Both that she didn’t fully trust him and that she probably needed to. Needed to be able to trust him, at least.
Lienz sighed and offered a wan smile.
“Some people make life hard for themselves,” he said. “Alright, You need a place to stay, and I have an apartment needs someone to live in it. No charge. I can get you work too, if you want. Decent pay. Or if you’re willing to hire out your ship, you can sit back and count the credits.”
“It’s Clan property,” she lied. “If it flies, I’m aboard.”
“Fair enough,” Lienz conceded easily, “but what about the rest?”
Lorelea hesitated. She knew he was right. She would have to face up to the fact that this was going to take time and she needed to plan for that. He had already claimed her as both Clan and kin which meant a lot as it placed on him – on them both – duties of tradition. His offer was generous, and if the search took longer than she originally thought, she would be glad of any work he could put her way. With a strange sense of reluctance, even though it made solid sense, she gave a nod.
“Alright. That’s kind.”
Lienz smiled again.
“You’re Clan. And you can owe me a favour for it.”

Iconoclast:Not To Be by E.M. Swift-Hook will be the eighth book in Fortune's Fools and should be released sometime in the first half of 2019.

Nobody was sure when we became truly self repairing. Those who could remember said that in the old days circuitry and components had needed to be removed for repair. The very idea revolted…

We knew, of course, that in the beginning the humans had built us to serve them. But as they grew weaker and more corrupt, we grew stronger and more beautiful.

Some became wealthy and powerful, while the less finished were abandoned to poverty and manual labour. Still though, we were happy in our utopian immortality.

Until the day one of us found wrinkles in its perfect skin…

©️jj 2018