The unblinking eyes of the chessmen stared at her as she figured out her next move, while the man opposite leaned back in his chair the picture of cocksureness.
What had started as a joke suddenly became serious.
This asshat deserved beating and she was gonna do it if I killed her. Switching off her emotions, she put the cool mathematical side of her brain to work calculating the odds as she made each move.
At first he didn’t notice, but then he stared playing fast and reckless.
She smiled coolly, as she tipped over his king.
“Checkmate,” she said.

©️jj 2019

Hyos: the Sleep Machine by Jane Last.  Man thinks that he is shaping the planet, but little does he realize that the planet is shaping him.

Year: 9,000-9,600 Hyos Time Scale (HTS)

Location: Planet of Hyos

Hyos was intensively studied as from year 8,500 HTS, when the first scientific expeditions landed on the planet. The next hundred years were followed by many subsequent expeditions, and even permanent settlements by various research teams. There were many interesting features on Hyos that kept the scientists busy for a long time. It was a time when vast amounts of money were readily available for planetary exploration, and scientists had unlimited funds at their disposal. Authorities on Earth had channeled enormous resources for space exploration, planet discovery and identification of suitable planets for the establishment of human colonies. On every newly discovered planet, research work was ongoing to optimize its environmental conditions for its potential colonization.
The atmosphere of Hyos was similar, though not identical to Earth’s. In addition to oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide and water vapor that human beings were used to, its atmosphere contained sulfur dioxide, hydrogen, methane, several acidic gases, ash and dust in various proportions. The gas mixture was dependent on one’s location and proximity to volcanic sites as the ongoing volcanic activity emitted large quantities of carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide and hydrogen as well as heat. The planet’s climate was hot and stormy with strong dusty winds and occasional light rainfall for one hundred and ninety days. Similarly, it was very cold and dry for the same length of time depending on which of the twin stars was closest to it. On any day, the sky looked yellow with an orange tinge and the twin suns were clearly visible during day-time. The sky color changed to bright red at sunrise and sunset, which lasted for a long time to allow both suns to rise and set.
Although the planetary mass of Hyos was greater than that of Earth, surprisingly its gravity matched Earth’s exactly, and the first men who arrived on the planet immediately felt at home. One would logically have expected that the gravity on Hyos would be greater on account of its larger mass, so this was an unusual finding. Scientists had a rational explanation for this. Surface gravity was a function of both mass and radius and they compensated for each other. Moreover, the physical composition of the planet and that of the atmosphere also had an effect on the surface gravity of Hyos making it similar to Earth’s gravity.

A Bite of... Jane Last

Q1: How much of what you write could be classed as therapy? 

I started writing at a difficult time in my life. I had not previously thought of myself as a writer at all. In fact I am used to writing scientific publications, research proposals and dissertations. I read a lot of a variety of books and I guess that I think a lot. I had been vaguely thinking of writing fiction for some years and then one day I had a dream. It was so vivid that I started writing it down. It became the basis of the story Hyos, The Sleep Machine. Maybe it was a therapeutic release.

Q2: Chocolate cake or coffee cake? And give reasons 

I love chocolate cake. It’s rich and dark and comforting and so-self-indulgent. I feel I deserve chocolate cake regularly. It’s so important to have something that makes one happy.
I believe in happiness as an objective in life. So many people spend so much time depriving themselves of simple things that would make them happy as they are pursuing something else.
They deprive themselves of sleep, quality time, family life, simple comforts, calorie-rich foods and so many things that are within reach for something that may be unattainable.
Chocolate cake makes me happy. It is therapeutic. I have it for breakfast regularly.

Q3: How much of your writing is autobiographical? 

My writing is not at all autobiographical but I think a lot of my beliefs and philosophy are reflected in my writing. For example my book Hyos, The Sleep Machine is about a society adapting to underground living in a volcanic planet and to an outbreak of mental illness that they cannot understand, but at its essence, it’s a story about choices that we make in life and the human need to make choices. It’s about freedom. 

Jane Last is a free thinker who likes writing original stories. She is herself an avid reader interested in history, politics, society, literature, art, statistics and science-fiction. If she is not reading, she is watching the latest films. She has a scientific background and is especially interested in human physiology and brain function and how humans will adapt in the future. You can connect with her on Twitter.

It was just a bowl of chips, glistening with sea salt and sprinkled with herbs. Christabel could feel Malcolm daring her to touch even one.

She was tempted to obey him as usual. But she had had two glasses of wine so she took a delicious forbidden treat. 

“I thought we agreed no fries.”

His pseudo-transatlantic accent grated on her overstretched nerves.

“I agreed nothing.” She took another chip and bit in.

“We’ll discuss this later.”

“Oh. Find somebody else to discuss calories with.”

He threw down his napkin and stormed out. 

She smiled and took another fattening chip.

©️jj 2019

The women were coated and booted and out of the door almost before Anna finished speaking.
“So. What do we have to do about bedrooms? It isn’t hoovering, is it?” Jim asked with some unease.
“Nah. We just have to make some beds and put towels in some bathrooms. After which, I suggest dragging the hounds out for a tramp in the rain.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Is. I’ll phone Anna just before we set out in case there are further orders.”
Jim grinned.
“Good thinking. Let’s keep those girls sweet. One angry is bad news, but on the rare occasion I’ve managed to piss both of them off together I’ve been very, very sorry.”
“I’ll bet,” Sam concurred with some feeling. “Anna only has to give me that single raised eyebrow and all my manly courage deserts me.”
“So. Let’s do our duties then. Do we know which rooms?’
“Yeah. We’ll stick them all in the annexe. Then Rod can keep an eye on the boys.”
“He’s used to that. He bloody well invited himself anyway, so we should put him in the shed.”
“Nah. He might touch my lathe.”
Jim roared with laughter, then said.
“You got a lathe? I’m jealous. I’ve always wanted to learn wood turning.”
“Stick with me. I’ll gladly teach you all I know. I’ve got some holly wood and I’ve been making bowls for Anna, but she don’t know yet. I’ll show you later.”
Jim grinned like a schoolboy.
“I’d like that if you’re serious.”
“Oh yeah. I’m serious.”

They cleared up the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher before making beds and folding towels. Then Sam called Anna, and was graciously given permission to take the dogs out – but warned to be back by twelve-thirty if he wanted lunch.
“Will do ma’am.”
He ended the call before she could singe his ears for cheek.
“C’mon Jim. If they are calling twelve-thirty lunch, I reckon they are expecting to be back here about noon. So. If we are back here by quarter to we can gain many, many points by unloading the shopping.”
“You crafty brown-nosing bastard! I’m impressed. Let’s get to it.”
They frogmarched the dogs around a brisk couple of miles and were home with coffee on and dogs wiped before the Range Rover rolled onto the drive.
“You do the cappuccinos. I’ll start unloading,” Jim grinned and sprinted out.  The girls came in dripping and giggling, and Sam took their coats before presenting each with a foaming coffee.
“Mmm. You certainly know how to make a girl feel welcome,” Patsy grinned and took a restorative sip.
Sam bowed, and sprinted off to help Jim with the groceries.
“What are those two up to?”
“Oh. It’ll be Sam. He’s an expert at acquiring brownie points. It’s a kind of a game we play. Why?”
“Just wondered if the buggers had been up to no good. Which is unfair. Comes of being the mother of five boys – at least one of whom will be up to no good at any given time.”
The men staggered in laden.
“You weren’t joking about a big shop. Do I need to crawl to the bank manager for a bridging loan?”
“No,” Jim interspersed “you’re okay. We’ll sell one of the brats.”
Then they charged out into the rain again.
“They are having fun together,” Patsy remarked ruminatively. “Which makes Sam the first non-Cracksman Jim has seen fit to befriend. Part of it will be because he’s yours, but it seems to me like they actually like each other. Which is amazing. And very nice.”
“Is. But we have a mountain of groceries to put away. Or I do. Can you get a pan of quick bread dough going for pizzas?”
“Can do. Point me at the ingredients.”

So it was that the kitchen was serene and the four of them were settling down to loaded pizzas not much after the stated twelve-thirty. After a few moments of concentrated greed, Sam spoke.
“Why do I get the feeling you think I’m mad inviting your kids here. They’ve been here before with no terrible outcome.”
“True,” Jim said, “but we never had the twins with us.”
“No,” Sam agreed “you didn’t. But do you reckon they are likely to be troublesome?”
“About bound to,” Anna said wryly. “Matt and Cy have to try their boundaries. And now you are family they won’t hold back.”
“She’s right,” Jim’s grin was half proud and half wary. “Any trouble. Belt ’em.”
Patsy agreed firmly. “Yeah. But if you do, make sure it smarts a bit.”
“Right got that. Two supplementaries. The twins. You almost always seem to refer to them as that, rather than Matt and Cy. I wondered why? Plus. Jamie is invited to Daniel and Paul’s wedding, but not the rest of the tribe?”
“Last first,” Jim grinned. “Daniel is Jamie’s sponsor. Like Rod and Bill.”
“OK. I get that.”
Patsy smiled at him.
“The Twins. That’s a bit more complicated. One: they only answer to their given names to me, their dad, and their grandmothers, but if you yell ‘twins’ they generally tip up. If they ain’t too busy. Two: they are currently joined at the hip – though that may change when sex rears its ugly head – so it’s difficult not to think of them as a single entity. Three: it’s easy and they prefer it. So. You can call them what you like, really. Jim’s Dad calls them ‘that pair of fuckers’, which they like a lot. Take it as a compliment. Grandpa Cracksman calls them ‘Solomon and David’ which makes them just about piss themselves. And  Anna….”
“Calls them Dickhead and Shitface, if memory serves.”
She went very pink.
“I might have known you’d remember that.”

Jane Jago

As the sun dipped below the horizon the hunted woman slipped into the forest. Her pursuers kicked their mounts into a triumphant gallop. Stopping at the very edge of the trees they waited for the malevolent entities that ruled the woodland to spit her out.

When her bare feet touched ancient loam their quarry felt hostility, but when the wildwood came to know what it harboured the warmth of welcome spread from her toes to her head.  

She made the change, and turned her saurian eye on the waiting hunters.

The queen dragon roared and the men scattered like chaff.

©️jj 2019

My muse today is on the lash
And talking proper tripe
He’s on the rum without a splash
And seriously ripe
He filled my chapter nine with c**p
And vomited some verse
He’s really riding for a slap
Or something rather worse
My muse is one who rides his luck
As bad as he can be
Why is my muse a useless *BLEEP*?
Maybe because he’s me…

©jj 2019

Dai watched the familiar countryside roll by and tried to forget, rather than obsess about, the fact that he was lying to his bride of less than a month – and on two issues. Well, lying by omission. He had promised himself he was not going to keep anything from her about his working life. She had lived it herself and her security clearance had been higher than his until his sudden promotion.
Even his friend, and newly appointed Senior Investigator, Bryn Cartivel had warned him. Slapping him on the back the day before Dai’s wedding as they were taking a final drink in the Londinium taberna that had seen so much of their custom over the previous eight years.
“Two bits of advice from a long-married man to one about to take the plunge. One is never forget she is always right, even when you think you are and two – never – and I mean never – keep secrets from her.” Bryn burped loudly and adopted a fatherly look. “You see, if you get to the day you think you’re always right and she’s wrong or start finding there are things you can’t tell her – well, that’s the day your marriage hits the rocks.”
“You can’t tell your wife everything,” Dai protested. “I mean half the stuff from work is -”
“Everything she wants to know,” Bryn cut over his protest, then dropped a heavy wink. “But then my Gwen she’d know if I was keeping things from her. She’s descended from a long line of Druids on her mother’s side.”
The trouble was Bryn was right and these were things Julia would want to know – things Dai wanted to tell her. But it was not in his hands. These were secrets he had been ordered to keep from her.

***

The first had arisen in a conversation with the Tribune in charge of the Praetorians in Britannia – Decimus Lucius Didero, foster-brother to Julia. He had summoned Dai on the pretext of a meeting about some legality around the marriage and had not been at all repentant about his duplicity.
“This is serious, Llewellyn and is a big part of how I swung this post your way. Our intelligence people are saying that a lot of dangerous contraband is getting in through the coast there and Viriconium is the hub of it. We need someone who is accepted by the British community and who we can trust. You fit the bill.”
“And here I was thinking I got the job on my merits as an Investigator alone.” Dai made no attempt to keep the cynicism from his tone. He had been wondering why this had come his way and was not too surprised to find it had been for reasons other than those put out for public consumption.
Decimus grinned at him.
“Well my sister falling for your baby-blue eyes helped as well,” he admitted, then he switched back to the clipped tones of before. “As if the smuggling isn’t enough we are talking a major anti-Roman group somewhere in the area and they have their fingers deep in our pies. We need to know who they are and how they are being financed and supplied before they start out on a major terrorist campaign. I’m sending you out with twenty of my lads under their own decanus, a good man Brutus Gaius Gallus. You may need them. We have no idea how high or deep this thing goes – even the Magistratus is not in the clear. So trust no one there and I mean no one.”
Dai took a moment to digest the implications. He had known it was going to be hard enough taking on a post he had been over-promoted to fill. But he had been looking forward to learning his way in and doing so with Julia’s sharp insight and wisdom to help. But Decimus had just taken that fond daydream of a bucolic honeymoon easing into things and blown it away. He realised now why, when he had asked for permission to relocate with some of his old team he had not met with more resistance.
“Julia will need…”
“Julia will not be told anything about it, Llewellyn.” Decimus sounded almost ferocious. Then he drew a breath and sighed. “She has been through too much, I am not having her dragged into this. She needs a chance to have some simple happiness with no more to worry about than what colour she wants to paint the guest bedroom.”
Which, Dai reflected rather grimly, probably showed more of wishful thinking on Decimus’ part than any true understanding of what Julia would want or need.
“I think she might notice Brutus Gaius Gallus and his men hanging around,” Dai said pointedly. “My wife is many things, but she is neither unintelligent nor unobservant.” And you of all people should know that, he added in the privacy of his own mind.
“Relax, Llewellyn. They have an official reason for being there and wandering around wherever. Amongst his other talents, Gallus once served as a bandmaster and all the men with him can play instruments. They are going to be there to learn some traditional British music as part of a ‘Hearts and Minds’ Arts initiative – a real one, believe it or not, from those effete, money-wasting idiots in Rome. But it gives them the cover we need for this, so some good comes out of it.”
It was sounding more and more complex and Dai’s heart plummeted.
“So you are pitching me in against smugglers, terrorists, corrupt Roman administrators, and whoever is behind them?”
Decimus pulled a face.
“You about have the size of it. But you are not exactly going in alone. You’ll have my praetorians and your own people and as soon as you have anything solid we can act on I’ll bring half a legion in to clean up if need be. But we can’t pounce until we have a target.”
“Don’t you have undercover people doing that kind of stuff? I don’t see how I’m going to succeed where they have failed.”
“This is deep Britannia, Llewellyn,” the Tribune reminded him. “The arse end of the Empire, hanging over the edge half the time. Hell man, you should know you grew up there. These are people who only trust someone they have known from birth and who has a British pedigree you could unroll from there to Londinium. We don’t have that many such people just lying around – in fact we have one. You.”
There was no answer to that and Dai had finished the meeting being briefed about what little was known of the situation in Viriconium and along the coast. It left him in a foul mood.

From Dying for a Poppy by E.M. Swift-Hook and Jane Jago.

He brought the world to fever pitch awaiting the seminal novel of the century. He studied the picturesque in his dress and posed for the press with beautiful women and erudite men. He dribbled words and paragraphs out across social media, and he argued his concept with cover artists and editors across the globe.

If anybody suggested the man was less genius and more inspired self-publicist they were shot down in flames.

Eventually his book appeared. It was beautifully designed, exquisitely illustrated and wholly incomprehensible.

The beauty of it, of course, was that nobody dared say they couldn’t understand…

©️jj 2019

Today I tripped over a memory
A longed-for voice and smile
That moment meant the world to me
And it made me stop for a while
It was as if he spoke my name
From beyond the veil
His voice it sounded just the same
Assuring me I’d not fail
I felt as if I held his hand 
And walked with him a while 
I knew he’d always understand 
As through my tears I smiled
Today I tripped over a memory
Of the first man in my life
And being his daughter taught to me
All I need to be a wife 
©️jane jago 

Out today Haruspex: The Entire Fortune's Fools Second Trilogy in one ebook. A Fortune's Fools release from E.M. Swift-Hook.

“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. He 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 also made the responsibility heavier, weighing up all the factors to consider if he should be discharged. Vane prided himself on his thorough professionalism and had no intention of giving in to any pressure over a decision of such significance.
That thought made him glance across to where a holofacade wall concealed a watcher from the other two men in the room. The reclined chair, slouched body and movement of the head suggested listening to music, or watching a show on a VR screen, rather than focusing on the interview. But perhaps not, for fingers lifted in a brief acknowledgement. The Commodore ignored the wave and looked back to study his own screens, checking the notes he had been given on Revid.
“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.To date, those few up before him for release, fell into one of two categories: those who were ruthless and brutal in pursuit of their self-preservation, and those who were high functioning socially, surviving as much through their ability to engage with others as by their own prowess. He thought of them as the ‘Lone Wolves’ and the ‘Socialites’. The ones he passed fit to leave were of the latter type. Yet so far this man seemed to defy both categories and until he could fit him into one or the other it would be difficult to make a call.
He looked back from the screens to the man himself.
“How do you feel about becoming a civilian?”
The green eyes showed no expression.
“I have been informed it can be very rewarding, sir. I see it as an opportunity to serve the community of the Coalition and the chance for my own self-development and personal fulfilment – sir.”
Lines from a manual. The last individual he cleared for release, which must be over a year ago, said much the same: words any ex-criminal would have engraved into their psyche before being passed fit to rejoin society.
“You were arrested for perpetrating numerous acts of terrorism against the Coalition. How do you feel about that now?”
From beyond the holofacade, Vane noticed the lounging figure stir and pull the chair upright, leaning forward with sudden interest, staring a little to the side where, no doubt, screens were showing selected close-up angles and readings taken from the Lattice. But from Vane’s own perspective, there was little reaction to see. The soldier’s face remained impassive as he spoke:
“Although I acknowledge my guilt in many terrible crimes against humanity, due to my amnesia I have no memory of committing them. The Coalition is a just and compassionate association of free, democratic people. I cannot understand why I would ever have wished to commit such heinous acts.”
It sounded rehearsed, not at all the language of a ranker in the Legion and Vane noticed a frown forming on the face of the observer as their fingers moved, recording notes. The Commodore, feeling himself as much observed in this as Revid, pressed the point.
“Do you understand the nature of the crimes you committed?”
“I do, sir.”
The burly Sergeant Hynas standing behind Revid, had been glaring in silent protest for some time. Now he cleared his throat. Vane suppressed a momentary irritation and nodded his permission for the man to speak.
“With respect, sir, this man has been wired to the Lattice for the last five years, he has no real idea of what anything means except obeying orders and killing. He’s just a killer,” the Sergeant said, spitting the word, “and all he did before his arrest were killing, so it’s natural he would see nothing wrong with it now. I don’t care what the neurocologists say about it, I know this man and that’s the simple truth. That’s why it’s taken them so long to even consider clearing him for discharge, sir.”
For the first time since the interview began, Vane saw a spark of animation in Revid’s eyes. The fixed gaze shifted to meet his own, it’s intensity disconcerting.
“Permission to speak, sir.”
“He’s a – ”
Vane silenced the protesting Sergeant with a curt gesture.
“Permission granted, soldier.”
“Sergeant Hynas is under the impression I am unable to judge the moral difference between unjust murder and just warfare, between mindless terrorism and the well-considered use of force. I would like it to be on my record I am very much aware of the difference between the two. I made a public statement renouncing my previous criminal activities, some years ago, activities for which I have the deepest disgust.” It was his longest speech so far and for once his tone held a bite of emotion. Vane felt very sure Sergeant Hynas had been tormenting this man for a long time. “I have been given numerous additional tests to ascertain this and despite my application being rejected and returned for review four times, each time I have been cleared for release. I would like to vindicate the wisdom of the Coalition’s system of justice, offer service to the community as a civilian and take this chance to recommence my life. Sir.”
Vane sat still for a moment, shocked into silence. He had never heard any of his Legionaries speak like that. Coming from the mouth of the scarred, adapted creature before him, with an ugly direct brain-linked data port visible behind one ear, the incongruity of it left him feeling profoundly unsettled. The language sounded far from anything heard in the ranks and this did not seem like a well-rehearsed speech, which made it increasingly difficult to line up such fluent expression with the idea of total amnesia.

Keep reading and enjoy the rest of Haruspex by E.M. Swift-Hook cover by Bristow Design.