I just published Family Law #8, I Never Applied for This Job

I’ll change it as the latest book release tomorrow. It’s a little involved to do tonight.

I’ve finished “I Never Applied for This Job”

I’ve had some help editing and have one more set of correction to apply. Those will be mostly punctuation. It’s been fun to write. I should publish before the end of the month. Life keeps interfering. Jan had a bunch of unexpected doc appointments.

Unedited snippet of “I Never Applied for This Job”

Son of One Eye finished a circle of their settlement, leaned on his spear, and contemplated sitting down for a moment. Experience informed him that if he did, he’d go to sleep sitting up. If the sun didn’t waken him before his replacement arrived, he’d get a beating for neglecting his duty. He sighed and started another circuit.

Part way into his next circuit he heard a faint noise and looked back. There was a glow coming from between the huts he’d just passed. Nobody kept a fire going at night and for a moment he was terrified there was an accidental fire started. That fear subsided when he realized the glow wasn’t the yellow of open flame. It was not only bluish tinted but lacked the flickering of open flames. He retraced his steps until the source was in sight. That raised more questions than it answered.

In an open spot between the huts a brilliant rectangle of light shone like nothing he’d ever seen. This wasn’t any night raid of Teen forces. It never occurred to him anything other than a raid would happen on his watch requiring action. This didn’t seem a danger but he was certain this month’s Leader would be upset if he tried to ignore it as outside his duty as night guard. He needed to investigate even though this strange thing scared him. That shamed him and he was determined not to let it show. He was already certain he’d need to go waken the Leader and that was something to dread all by itself. If he didn’t go investigate closer his Leader would want to know why he didn’t have more information to report.

“We’ve got a live one,” Tom reported. “This is an amplified image. The pad camera isn’t as good as dedicated night vision. With normal biological vision you’d barely be able to see something was out there twenty meters away. The light from the pad really helps. It’s very dark there with no moon and nothing but starlight.”

The image was dark with only the Bunny’s eyes reflecting brightly. The edges of his image blended with the black night behind him and visible areas pixelated as he moved.

“If his eyes are anything like ours it will totally ruin his night vision to look at the screen,” Jeff said. “Do you have it set to minimum brightness?”

“I didn’t think of that,” Tom admitted. “I made it bright to help them find it. I’m dimming it now.”

Son of One Eye took a couple of tentative steps towards this oddity and stopped when it slowly grew dimmer. If it went completely dark that was fine with him. He could continue on his rounds and forget he ever saw it. Unfortunately, it only dropped from its eye searing brightness to a much gentler glow. At the new level he could see something on the ground in front of it. He steeled himself and continued to approach.

The image on the screen didn’t make sense to him at first. April knew that might be the case and included the image of a Bunny from the earlier video transmissions for scale with a literal scale projected beside him. The Bunny image was of the sort Son of One Eye knew from before he was sentenced to the gap work gang. It moved but ran a short time and repeated. The rest of the screen was in color and much clearer and sharper than the gray scale images of Bunny video. There were also windows showing a short video of Jeff, April, and the Badgers together. Jeff gave a solemn nod, April smiled, and the Badgers both waved hello.

The one window not repeating on a short cycle was Lee. It didn’t take Son of One Eye long to decide that window was a live transmission. He flipped his spear over and grabbed it behind the head to prod this thing without getting too close.

The part flat to the ground as covered with all sorts of tiny buttons. When he pushed on the front edge with the butt of his spear it slid a little on the ground. Up close he could see a border around the glowing picture. When he pushed gently on the picture it tilted back and the part on the ground lifted. He let off before it tipped over.

The mouth worked on the Human and it said, “No break. Ask you. No break.” But the mouth movements didn’t match the loud Bunny words he heard.

“Much loud,” Son of One Eye said. “Much quieter.” He requested with a downward pushing gesture of his flat hand that was perfectly understandable. If that thing kept speaking so loudly, it would have half the camp up and in ill humor in short order.

Lee muted her mic, looked off camera, and spoke with someone before responding.

“Better?” Lee asked in almost a whisper. “Permit we talk?” Lee asked.

“Yes, yes. I go get Leader. You talk with Leader,” he suggested.

“Take me to your leader,” Lee suggested.

She had no idea why Jeff had a giggle fit he struggled to stifle. It seemed a better idea than bringing the leader out in the night to her pad.

“Yes….” Son of One Eye said, hesitating. He was shy to pick up the strange device. He’d already been warned not to break it.

“Close thing,” Lee suggested and illustrated what she meant with her hands.

“Oh.”

They watched as he griped the top edge of the screen and slowly pulled it down with exaggerated care. Their screen went dark as the camera was covered.

“What is wrong with you?” Lee asked Jeff once the transmission cut off.

“Take me to your leader was a cliché line for little green men and flying saucer jokes long before any Human made it to orbit,” Jeff informed her.

“I don’t know history,” Lee admitted. “I guess that would be funny if unexpected.”

“You had to be set up for it to be funny,” Jeff admitted. “It’s a once funny for sure.”

Son of One Eye set the strange device down and cranked the precious flashlight a minute to make sure it would work. He avoided using it if he didn’t need to. They only had three and when they broke or the battery failed there wouldn’t be any replacement. He laid his spear out of the way outside the door and went in with the flashlight aiding him and the Human’s pad under one arm. The light didn’t rouse the leader at all. Not even when he shone it directly in his face.

Shaking him just got an unintelligible mumble and an arm thrown over his eyes. Son of One Eye opened the alien machine. There was a sudden realization for him working the hinge that it was a machine. Thankfully, the light came back on. He pulled aside leader’s arm and the unnatural light did what the flashlight couldn’t. His eyes came open if only slits and his nose clutched shut like something stank.

“What in the darkest pits of hell is that thing?” Leader demanded. Such references to superstition was one of the offenses that got him sentenced to the gap.

“Some kind of machine that communicates better than a whole video studio. It appears to be sent by space aliens and they want to talk to us. I’m just a night guard. You can have the joy of talking to them and the blame if you screw up.”

“Space aliens are something grandmothers use to scare the littles,” Leader said.

“Tell that to them,” Son of One Eye said pointing at the screen. “Maybe they aren’t space aliens. Maybe they are from your pits of hell. But they want to talk to you.”

Leader sat up and really focused on the screen for the first time.

“Piles of foul excrement upon the common foot path,” Leader proclaimed. “I have two days left before next month’s Leader. Why couldn’t this wait?”

“I had a similar thought about it befalling us on my guard shift.”

“I’m getting a lot of new words and grammar from this guy,” Tom told his Humans.

“What are you?” Leader asked the screen.

“I’m called a Human,” Lee said. “I wanted to show you these other aliens that are with us. They are called Badgers. There are others kinds not with us right now.”

“Why talk to us?” Leader wondered. “I’d think you’d want to talk to the Teen and all his slaves in the big city. We are escaped outlaws and poor.”

“I’m guessing you don’t know why they came for all the supervisors and stopped you working to cut a pass in the mountains?”

“No idea. Some have speculated a crop failure or a sudden epidemic. Whatever it was, I knew that we as criminals would be given the worst jobs to fix it with the least resources. At least cutting down the mountains we got fed. I wasn’t going to go back to even worse conditions. Do you know what happened?”

“Yes, we aliens came and were speaking with the Teen’s men in the city. We were ordered to land so the Teen could inspect his ships. When we refused… Well, I’ll show you video of what happened,” Lee said.

The month Leader watched and didn’t dismiss Son of One Eye so he watched too.

The English sub-titles were auto-translated from the transmission. There were three of the natives seated before the camera and others came in and out, laying down documents and picking up notes the three made.

Luke speaking: “We will not land. Stop asking. We expect (see literally) you take our (literally, not Teen) ships if we land. Teen is your Teen. We have no Teen. We no want one.”

First native: “If Teen not own everything (unknown word) to far stars – Teen owns almost nothing. One star in all the (unknown word) heavens is nothing. Either he owns all or our law and (peace?) is (unknown word, may be a curse) nothing (zero?).”

Second native: “We have no way (hand literally) (to? variation on word make) them land. What you suggest we do?” (Face of native is very contorted. This may indicate great stress.)

First native: “Tell it to Teen.” (His face assumes similar contortions. This statement may not have been a serious suggestion, but identifying sarcasm in a new alien language is chancy.)

Third native: “We are doomed (dead?).”

First native: “Tell Teen this!” (He rips off his collar. The second native jumps up, snatches it from his hand, and grabs him in a headlock from behind.)

Third native: (Looks at struggling pair. Then looks back at the camera lens.) Says: (three unknown words. Camera feed cuts off. Carrier signal follows quickly.)

“Shortly after this the city started burning and it spread to the other two cities. We didn’t mean to start this. Nobody tried to talk to us with video or radio again,” Lee said. “Here is how that looked. The aerial view showed plumes of smoke on the wind from all over the city. It zoomed in close enough to see gridlocked traffic, cars burning, and a bridge down.

This month’s Leader surprised Lee by laughing and slapping his hands on his legs. They didn’t even know that Bunnies laughed.

“Good. Burn it all down,” Leader said. “Thank you for giving the little push it needed. I doubt they will come bother us for a long time. You talk better now than before.”

An unedited snippet of my WIP

“If we ever eat again after this,” Lee said. “The pastry tray has certainly grown since the last one I ordered.”

The server smiled.

“We have a new pastry chef and she’s showing off.”

He left happy they noticed.

“You see why the staff like her?” April asked. “She not only said thank you, she chatted with him like a person. Lots of the rich and famous treat the help like furniture”

“That’s pretty stupid to do with the people handling your food,” Lee said. “That’s begging for karma to make a special guest appearance.”

“She’s so polite she says thank you to the house computer,” Tish told them.

“Better to always use it than forget for someone who will miss it,” Lee insisted.

“I can’t fault that,” April admitted.

“Sweet little shrieking goddesses!” Tish said around a full mouth.

“What is it dear?” Lee seemed worried.

“What are these?” Tish asked holding the half she hadn’t bit off. The entire tray was rimmed with them.

“Baklava,” April said, “but it looks like she gave us several kinds. Some are made with pistachios, some with walnuts, and these little cups look like they’re maybe almonds.”

“There are Greek and Persian kinds,” Jeff said. “Probably others. They use different spices. The Greek Isle Bakery in Armstrong must sell a dozen kinds.”

Tish finished hers, licked her fingers, and looked like she was having a hard time deciding which kind to try next.

“Nobody ever told us such a thing exists.” It seemed an accusation.

“Badgers like sweet stuff,” Lee said in a huge understatement.

“This is all expensive stuff, labor intensive,” Jeff explained. “It usually requires a big population making good money before an area can support markets or restaurants with these kinds of ethnic treats. If they have a good pastry chef here now you should ask if she can make you some strudels or fancy cakes for you.”

“Oh, I will, I will,” Lee vowed.

Tish had another in hand but delayed to ask Trix what he thought.

He held up a sticky digit, unwilling to rush the experience so she went ahead.

Trix replied in his own sweet time.

“I think we should do whatever necessary to learn the art of these and introduce them to Far Away. Grandfather can set a shop up in town and share the fortune these will make. That can start to repay him for all the extraordinary kindness he showed us. He owed basic hospitality but he made us comfortable.”

“Fine, it’s a plan, but what do you think of them?” Tish insisted.

“I see four kinds and I think I must limit myself to one of each or I will binge on them until I am sick.”

“I think he means he likes them,” Lee interpreted.

Tish just nodded, her mouth full again.

“Watch out he doesn’t try to steal your pastry chef away before you get a decent chance to enjoy her,” Jeff warned.

“That reminds me of a funny story about when we first started the cabbage mines at Central,” April said.

The Badgers nodded, eager to hear but busy chewing.

A couple of hours later Lee had a much better sense of what the triad were and how they arrived at their power than she had before. April and Jeff kept prompting each other, one memory triggering another, laughing at remembrances. Their old habit of deflection and avoidance was abandoned. They answered questions freely Even embarrassing questions about failures and missed opportunities.

Jeff and April’s internal clock finally caught up to Derfhome time and they were ready for a late dinner. Lee was far more than ready Tish looked repelled at the idea. A huge swath of the pastry tray was bare in front of her. She made a negating gesture and invited them to proceed without her before excusing herself to waddle off to bed. Trix was visibly conflicted but decided it was his duty to escort her back to their suite.

Improvements coming

This site is going to get a face-lift and hopefully better functionality. Working on it happening.I’ll add a newsletter also which will not always be on topic about my books. I’d like to share some experiences and observations.

Unedited snippet of “I Never Applied for This Job”

The two trucks nearest the exit doors appeared to be done as Alonso had been told. There were man carts and tool boxes pulled back by the walls away from them. A couple of workers were doing something but not on the trucks themselves. Lee and her Badgers went to the one Alonso was inspecting and greeted him. Compared to the Twool the trucks were huge and not at all sleek. They still had handsome lines as Lee expected of Alonso.

“It’s big!” Trix said stating the obvious.

“Will it fit in the big cargo hold in the Silk Road?” Tish asked.

“Now really, do you think we’re like the guy who built a big boat in his basement with no way to get it out?” Alonso asked.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Alonso opened the door and the young Badgers climbed in exploring.

“Will it fit?” Lee asked privately through her spex.

“Damned if I know,” Alonso replied. “You never specified a maximum height and I never thought to ask how you’d transport it. I wasn’t about to admit that to her.”

“I’m asking crew to measure it right now,” Lee said. “I think that’s faster than asking for the design files to be searched.”

“Ask Tom,” Alonso suggested. “I bet he answers faster than they can find a tape measure and run down to the hold.”

Lee was surprised but sent Tom a text.

“Done. Do you use him like that?” Lee asked.

“Sure, if I want to know…”

“Mistress, exactly four meters high in the middle section and five point nine meters wide centered, because there is a half meter radius at each corner for stress relief.”

“Thanks Tom,” Lee sent the text to Alonso.

“Lots of room,” Alonso assured her. “Almost a meter for the cab height and a bit more clearance on the width. But if you want the base camp or big box accessory along, you’ll have to load it separately.”

“We have a crane for that,” Lee said. “No problem. Though the next ship will have a hatch to clear them mounted now that I know. It’s going to be a copy of the Silk Road but we can make changes. We’ll make the lower hold taller.”

“You could just drag it along in your field, like you do ships,” Alonso suggested.

“That’s not a half bad idea,” Lee admitted.

“Alonso,” Tish called from the cab. “How do you get the sun roof open?”

“With great difficulty since it doesn’t have one.”

“Then what’s this?” Tish asked pointing up.

Lee wondered too and stepped closer to look up. She recognized it immediately.

“Honey, that’s the inside of a mating flange for an airlock,” Lee told her.

“Oh, glittery. You can go to your ship or one of the space stations just like we did in the Twool,” Tish said.

Lee looked a question at Alonso and got a single small nod.

“That’s right but I’m not up to that today,” Lee warned her. “I haven’t been all the way through the simulator orientation yet.”

“You could have Tom fly it for you, couldn’t you?” Tish suggested

“He’s not installed in it and we haven’t finished talking about cloning
him,” Lee said. “There are still some details to agree on.”

“He could fly it remotely, couldn’t he?” Trix said.

“Probably,” Alonso agreed, “but I won’t trust my life to a remote operator, man or machine, when you are working through enough distance to have considerable lag. Especially if you don’t control all the routing. The network may change that lag in the middle of something critical like docking. But I can give us a little manual ride. All we’ll do today is taxi over to my shop, test rotation in all axis, and climb to five meters and back. Then I’m going to go over it in detail before pushing it and trying a load.”

“That’s all?” Tish said disappointed.

“You don’t take a new aircraft and test it to the edge of its envelope the first flight,” Alonso told her. “I’d rather fall from five meters than five thousand.”

“Oh, OK,” Tish said.

“A new policy?” Lee asked through her spex. When they test flew the Twool together they thoroughly wrung it out.

“New policy when we have youngsters aboard,” Alonso sent back. “Beside that, I built the Twool. I knew every connector and screw in her was done right.”

“Good thing I haven’t told them about testing the Twool,” Lee said.

“Keep that story for when they are forty or fifty,” Alonso said.

“That works,” Lee agreed. “Trouble is Tish has already seen Gordon fight his ship. That story will pale beside what she’s already experienced. When we get back to your shop come with us and we’ll get them some lunch,” Lee said. “Food always distracts them.”

“It does that for me too,” Alonso admitted. “Lunch sounds good.”

Alonso liked to project all hard and grumpy, but Lee was pleased how much he cared for her Badgers.

“Ma’am, the hold hatch opens to four meters vertically,” her crew reported.

A Kindle Deal for December

Family Law is $2.49 in the US and Canada for Dec.

Unedited snippet of Family Law 8

“Mistress, we have another courier from a service with a card for you.”

The front desk man didn’t sound happy. The last courier she received ended up leaving on a gurney after making a mess on her best rug, leaving bullet pock marks on the walls, and disrupting the kitchen service. Lee wouldn’t blame them if they found having her as resident was losing its luster.

“I’ll have my security meet me down there to receive his message,” Lee told him, terminated that call and made another to arrange it.

“Strangelove, do you have a man near the hotel? I have a courier with a message at the front desk. After the last one I’m not inviting him up to my suite. I’d like some security presence to receive his card.”

“Well, gods be kind to me for once. I’m thankful you stopped doing that. I always have a man there and he’ll pull in a hotel security man to help. They’ll be there by the time you can ride down.”

“Thanks Strangelove. I’ll be armed too.”

“Of course!” Strangelove replied gruffly.

When Lee exited her elevator, the courier was still at the check-in desk but turned to face the elevators. Strangelove’s man was beside him and just a step back. He was about as big as male Derf get and had a possessive arm draped across the poor fellow’s shoulders. His hand was laid lightly over his shoulder but was it was the size of a dinner plate. The hotel’s security ‘man’ looked to be a petite female to Lee’s eye. She had an almost black coat of short fur and was about two thirds the size of Strangelove’s man. She had a security wand and sensor suite in hand, apparently used already.

Lee stopped short, slightly out of arm’s reach.

“I’m Lee Anderson,” she informed him. “From whom do you have a message?”

“Ma’am,” he said with a diffident nod. “This is from Kir Ambassador.” He offered the envelope cautiously, two handed. “I can return your answer.”

“Allow me,” the hotel security said and plucked it out of his hands. She felt it carefully with her true hands for lumps or wires and looked mildly surprised.

“It’s scented,” she said. “Something strong and unfamiliar.” She held it away from her body and slit it open with a claw. Satisfied there was nothing inside but a card, she handed it to Lee.

The scent was spicy. It reminded Lee of cloves but with a touch of something hotter. The card itself was a single sheet, not a fold over, and embossed with a botanical design around the edges. Perhaps that plant pictured was the source of the scent? The message was printed in English using a green ink that matched the decoration.

Kir Ambassador invites your presence to celebrate the completion of her embassy residence and the arrival of my personal furnishings and supplies from home so I may entertain guests in comfort. Three days hence on the fifth day of the Derf month on the day Humans style as Wednesday in the local rotation. From the fourteenth hour until dawn of the next day.

“Inform Kir Ambassador I’ll be delighted to attend,” Lee said. The poor courier was worried by this heavy security so she tipped him one of the new one-gram gold coins she was having made instead of a dollar Ceres. “Excuse our caution. A previous courier turned out to be a would-be assassin.”

The courier’s expression changed from concerned to a totally unexpected fierce look.

“Please tell me that story had a happy ending,” he said through bared teeth.

Lee laughed. “I’ve never heard it put quite that way, but yes it ended well, for us.”

“Good. That sort makes it tough for people who just want to make an honest living.”

“What is your name?” the female security asked. “If you come again tell the desk your name and we’ll have a gentler response.”

“Allen, ma’am. Working for Fast Runners. And thank you for the tip,” he directed to Lee, excusing himself.

“There’s more to that one than meets the eye,” the hotel security lady said. “I might recruit him after a little investigation. We’re short on Humans.”

“Indeed,” Strangelove’s soldier said, “but I suspect you’ll find he has been out on the point of the spear and happy to be done with it.”

“That’d reading a lot of depth to it,” she said.

“No. He’s right,” Lee said.

When both of them looked surprised at the firmness of her conviction, she explained.

“I’ve been taking lessons.”

Some problems

Sunday morning woke up to a swollen hand on arm that had surgery. Went to ER and I have a blood clot in my arm. So, I’m on blood thinners to dissolve it.

Appreciate your support and kind words.

Some of my reviews are over the top. I’m no genius. Some of the people I know are much smarter than me. I’m an old blue collar worker and mid-wit who likes to spin stories. I thank everyone for reading them. I’m amazed this last book has sold very well in non-English speaking countries. Mexico and India where before I might have zero sales any one month. Japan is paying me over $500 this month.
On the 20th of this month (Sept.) I’ll have my second shoulder replacement. It will be nice to be able to do things like replace a smoke alarm battery or a shower curtain. The pain level will go down too.
Family Law #8 is past 17k words and other stories advanced a little.
Thanks guys. – Mac’

I messed up… April 6

A couple of weeks ago Amazon had me correct some typos in “And What Goes Around”. After I uploaded the corrections I apparently failed to hit publish at the end of the third page. Thus several people told me the book was not available for sale in the US and Canada. It showed as live but wasn’t. I believe it is corrected now. – Mac’

Snippet F.L. 8

Yeah I know… But this popped into my head and I’ll embed it somewhere in the book when I come back to it.

“Would you like me to build you a garbage truck too?” Alfonso asked with a sneer.

“Don’t go all elitist on me,” Lee said. “You won’t crack smart on garbage trucks if nobody picks up your trash for a couple of months and you need to use your precious time to dispose of it. I’m sure you heard perfectly well that I asked you to design a truck not build one. I know you like building fancy toys that show off your skills. I don’t know anybody else I can trust to do this competently, much less artistically. I know you’ll make it pretty as well as functional because you can’t help yourself. That’s fine but it’s important it be trustworthy and safe for my people. I’m prepared to reward you handsomely to do this for me.”

“I’ve learned to control my acquisitive nature,” Alfonso said. “People who are never satisfied are never happy. You did manage to tempt me by letting me build myself a copy of your new aircar. I had no prospects of ever affording such a luxury from building sports planes. I’ve increased my prices on those as much as the market will bear, but they’d never pay me that well.”

“I’m not so sure,” Lee said. “All the influx of rich people from Home have really driven prices up. Haven’t you gotten any work from them?”
“A couple of contracts after our aircars are done,” Alfonso said with a dismissive wave.

“You put escalator clauses on those linked to inflation I hope?”

“I said I wasn’t greedy. That doesn’t mean I’m stupid. But as much as I appreciate your custom, and the side gig we’re setting up, I’m not keen to sit on my butt and design stuff I’ll never get to build. Life is too short to do stuff that isn’t fun,” Alfonso said.

“Exactly!” Lee agreed.

Alfonso blinked a couple of times and obviously couldn’t parse that any way that she wasn’t contradicting herself.

“I’m offering more life, all out of proportion to the little bit of it I’m asking you to use. They are within a couple of months of offering basic life extension therapy for Derf. It’s in testing for any untoward reactions right now. It will be expensive until it is much more common and available from several sources. I’ll buy you the premium version – a lifetime subscription for future versions and add-ons. Tell me that isn’t a deal,” Lee challenged him.

Alfonso sighed. “I should just refuse to talk to you if I don’t want to get sucked into whatever you want. If I agree to listen, I might as well just ask what you want, and be resigned to accommodating you from the start.”

“You just don’t want anyone to doubt your independence,” Lee said. “You value that part of your reputation as much as being known for quality. I’m not going to damage that. I’ll be careful to structure our contracts so nobody knows exactly how much I’m paying you. Payment in kind makes it easier. I want you to be happy to work for me.”

Alfonso looked sour. “Happy is asking a lot. People think you’re a fool if you are all mindlessly chipper and cheerful all the time.”

“I hear what you’re saying. Some people would think you aren’t serious. Not me. You can still play curmudgeon with your public if you want and grin on the inside.”

“I suppose,” Alfonso allowed. “Tell me how they determine it’s safe. I’ve no desire to think I bought extra years and then discover it kills you early instead. I’m sure they would be very apologetic if that happened, and maybe pay a fine, but that would mean more to my heirs than me.”

“Keep this to yourself. I’m not sure Dr. Ames wants it talked around. He did the same with humans. He found Derf with a terminal disease and offered them a large cash payment for trying out particular gene mods. They have near nothing to lose and a lot of them do have family they would like to leave better off financially.”

“That makes perfect sense to me,” Alfonso said. “Why would you need to keep that quiet?”

“People can be strange,” Lee said. “He was sure some would feel he was taking advantage of their situation.”

“Well, he is, but not to their harm.”

“I agree. Some people got the false idea life extension is rejuvenation, and if you had a nasty cancer or something like an aneurysm it would treat it. It doesn’t work that way. The metabolic and immunological pathways are so similar in Humans and Derf we’re confident we won’t have any of the gross errors they made in early human LET. Dr. Ames has always been insistent that he won’t install a gene mode for which he doesn’t have an undo.”

Ah, he does sound sufficiently cautious,” Alfonso allowed. He stopped short of saying yes. Lee just sat silent and let him stew on it. She’d sold it all she was going to.

When the pause grew uncomfortable Alfonso started fidgeting with his hands.

“If I’m going to the trouble to design this truck we might as well license the design for anyone else who wants one, and pick up a little coin,” he suggested.

Lee took that for a yes.

“I don’t need an exclusive on it,” Lee agreed. “I would like at least one more copy to take to a supporter on Providence. How about if we have the same folks building the aircars to your design make the trucks?”

“They would probably need a new dedicated building,” Alfonso said. “I’ve been there and they are tight for space already.”

“Then we should build them new place and move the truck production to the old building,” Lee said. “If I have to finance the building and equipment, I want the same deal as the aircars. You get a straight ten percent add on fee.”

Alonso blinked.

“I’ve already agreed to design it. A per vehicle fee add-on is just found money for me.”

“You’re right, and you really aren’t greedy,” Lee said. She offered her hand to swipe.

“Done,” Alonso agreed and brushed her palm.

A Reluctant Sovereign – published tomorrow

I’ll put it up tonight but it takes some time to propagate through their system. Here’s the cover.
Can’t get link to work. Sorry.

Snippet of Fair Trade sequel

“Does anybody want to chat with me?” Jed asked the assembled Tigers. He hoped some of the snarky flavor of the invitation was retained in translation. The Tiger had overnight to think on how to deal with him. Maybe they learned something.

One of the Tigers stepped forward. He didn’t kneel in submission but he lowered himself with all his legs tucked in close, sphinx like. It wasn’t submission but it sent the message he wasn’t poised to attack.

“We lack understanding of your kind. Going through the translator makes it worse. We know few of his words and he knows few of our words. We do not know who is dominant between your kinds. We have no reason to trust his translation. He claims to fear you and yet he’s still here. Are the People now your slaves?”

“They are not. You had plenty of time and opportunity to learn their language. You were too arrogant to think you’d ever need to know it. You can explain arrogant if you try,” Jed said to the dismayed translator. “Try valued yourselves too high or other variations.”

“If you don’t like speaking through him, I will assign you a human to teach you English. It’s the dominant language of transportation and business on our world. When the People found our world, it was the obvious choice to learn.”

“He asks why you have more than one language and how many you use? I confessed I have no knowledge of that.” He didn’t ask his assigned assistant.

“We have hundreds. Every independent country has at least one. Some have several they acquired over the centuries as they were conquered by successive invaders. Some countries conquered an area and their language and a few customs were the only things they left behind by the time they in turn failed or were conquered. We humans don’t especially like each other and tend to retain our identity over generations and kill outsiders. The last couple of wars we had killed millions and ravaged continents. We’ve been reluctant to repeat that now that a single weapon shot can destroy large cities. We may be mean but we’re not suicidal.”

They talked with the translator a long time before getting back to Jed.

“They doubt your statement about the power of your weapons,” the translator said.

“They will find the demonstration of it convincing if they want to do it the hard way. It’s amusing if they think I need to lie to the likes of them. Do they demean themselves to tell their prey and slaves falsehoods?”

“Are you sane by the standards of your species?” the translator eventually asked.

“We have no agreed standard that holds from one group to another,” Jed said. “Nor does it matter. You have to deal with me or risk how sane the next human you deal with will be. You are going to deal with humans now that we know you exist.”

“Why do you call us Tigers?” Which seemed to be off on a tangent and the translator again ignored his Earth trained counterpart.

“The People who found us called you Tigers in English. Looking at our videos it was the most frightening Earth predator they saw. Here, we brought a fractional data base of Earth knowledge. I’ll show you the creature.”

The pictures of a tiger taking down game got a murmur of appreciation from the crowd. The last shot was of a tiger holding a gazelle by the throat. The photographer zoomed in until all that was visible was the tiger’s frightening eyes, staring at the cinematographer over its bloody muzzle. It was obvious it knew it was being watched.

“They are amazed humans survive on a world with such predators.”

Jed laughed. “Once we invented the pointy stick it was all over for them. They only survive because we’ve set aside territory where they are protected from humans by other humans. They are beautiful and a living history worth preserving. Here, let me show them something else.”

The next video showed children with ice cream cones peering through the bars of a tiger enclosure at a zoo. The next, a circus act where the tamer snapped his whip at a tiger and made it jump through hoops and do tricks. Another still picture showed an ancient Asian man with a weathered face and bright tribal dress leaning on a steel headed spear. A tiger skin robe was draped over his shoulders. The last showed two older gentlemen with brandy snuffers relaxing in a dark paneled English club. Between them and a lit fireplace was an enormous tiger skin rug. The captives were silent at that.

“There are other predators on our planet,” Jed said. “I’ve never seen a wild tiger but where I used to live these are fairly common.”

Jed showed a picture of a hunter posed with a Kodiak bear. The bear’s paw was as big as a serving platter with its claws displayed. The hunter was posed squatting in front of it with a compound bow and several broadhead arrows clamped on a rack so the nature of the weapon was obvious.

“They hold a lottery every year for the privilege of hunting a few,” Jed said. “They control how many can be taken and charge a huge fee so they aren’t made extinct.”

“That’s a muscle powered weapon that throws one of those pointy shafts?” the translator asked Jed.

“Yes, a bow and arrow, but the Tigers didn’t say anything. Are you a mind reader now?”

“I was asking for myself,” he admitted. “Why hunt such a monster with that weapon when I know you have vastly superior?”

“What would be the sport in that?” Jed asked.

The Tiger demanded to know what they were saying. It took a while including extra consultation with the Earth trained subordinate.

“Oddly enough, I don’t understand your last comment at all but the Tigers assured me they do, after I read enough synonyms from our dictionary. They ask if that’s what you would reduce them to, hunting stock?”

“I’d be delighted if I succeeded in preserving them as a species and the cost of it was only a few Tigers and humans hunting each other in the wild. I’m hoping to find terms to do that so others of my species don’t decide they are too much trouble and expense to preserve. The short sighted may decide it makes better sense to burn their worlds bare and exterminate them. I’m a preservationist by philosophy.”

“They are upset you portray yourself as their ally in survival they did not chose. They accuse you enjoyed abusing the medic and want you to know they had to amputate his ruined tail.”

“Oh, boo-hoo. It got their attention. They simply don’t listen without being forced to. They may have never needed allies before. Still, they are awfully damned slow to adapt to a change in necessity. See if you can teach them friends or advocates. Make clear I don’t like them, but they better learn to take any sort of friends where they can find them. They aren’t terribly likable.

“I happen to feel on principle that you don’t destroy what you can never bring back. Plenty of my fellow humans would kill all those tigers or bear I showed without a second thought. I’d find it a loss to walk through the woods and never wonder if one was around the next tree.” Jed smiled. “It adds a delicious uncertainty to your stroll.”

The translator looked at him in horror.

“I think you humans are all insane and it just varies by intensity. The People very, very rarely have those who are addicted to risk because their fear hormones act like a drug. Perhaps you aren’t self-aware of that happening.”

“Oh no. Lots of adrenaline junkies are self-aware,” Jed assured him. “They tend to escalate continually trying to get a bigger thrill. Of course, they die young and spectacularly, but what a ride they enjoy while they are alive!”

The translator just shuddered. That needed no explanation.

“I’m tired of talking today,” Jed decided. “Tell them to decide if they want English instruction. I’ll be back when I can stomach looking at them again.”

He walked out while that was being told and before they could ask more.

Another possible story opening:

Jack’s butt was numb. He stretched and leaned, lifting each cheek without getting up. He felt his coffee cup. It was dead cold. Sixty-eight was too damn old to be putting in ten-hour days, but he was glad of the work. The Second and Greater Depression had wiped out his retirement accounts, even before the previous administration had seized them, or taken them into protective custody to hear them tell it. They were saved in Federal Reserve dollar denominated bonds, so if he cashed them out, they’d only be a tenth of the value in the new United States Greenbacks.

He’d retired briefly, but had to come back to work again if he didn’t accept the settlement on his accounts. He had more in mind thirty hours a week or so, but they seemed to find a lot more for him to do than he’d expected. If he got too busy and unhappy, he realized there were lots of others who would be outright envious of his ability to go back to work.

He’d really have been up the creek if his wife’s life insurance had not been ruled payable at full value in the new notes. He was holding out on taking a settlement, hoping some of the court cases would favor a full payout of his retirement accounts in the new money. A lot of people had signed off on the switch, needing funds to live right now, and accepting a dime on a dollar. He had a little nest egg due to the insurance money, but was very conservative about spending it, after seeing how easily he’d been stripped of almost everything before.

Guys his age usually had trouble finding work, but his age was a benefit with this struggling niche plastics company. His experience with their obsolete computer and older AutoCAD software, let them suck a little more use out of it. The youngsters who came by his cube looked in horror at the six-year-old box. It might be obsolete, but it could easily handle files for the relatively simple plastic parts they were contracted to tool and produce.
If you wanted five million cheap, crappy parts with flash and uncertain material specs, the job was going to Malaysia or Vietnam. If you needed five hundred parts in virgin material, and really needed the dimensions to resemble spec, then Midwestern Molding was the company to shoot your job.

He’d have been delighted to have this computer and its huge high-definition screen twenty years ago. He started out years ago with NASA on a machine that you could instruct to do an operation, like rotate a part, go use the bathroom, refresh your coffee, say hello to your work mates in the coffee room, and still be back at your desk before it was done.

There were five job files waiting for him. None was labeled hot by some miracle, so he skipped down to the third. That file was smaller, perhaps he could finish it off by the end of tomorrow, and have a clean wrap-up for the weekend.

The screen showed a standard three view line drawing print with details, and a 3D rendering rotating in separate window. Jack couldn’t help the big smile that came to his face. It was a long time ago, but you don’t forget a part once you’ve gotten every detail about it in your mind, and designed a tool to make it. He’d worked with this part when he was at NASA. It was a space suit visor.

He looked at the revisions list, and was unsurprised to see it called out a different material. They’d done a lot with plastics since he was a green NASA nerd. The material it called for was stronger and more heat resistant than the original Lexan. The revisions included anti-reflective coating and sapphire on the inside but deep bonded diamond film on the outside. That was a whole new technology they hadn’t dreamed of back then. The gold film was deleted so they must be using separate flip down sun filters and shades.
The seal groove was modified. Likely the seal was new up-to-date material too. There was still room for ejector pins outside the seal groove so this tool as going to practically design itself since he’d done one before. It needed a lot of diamond polishing on the mold to produce the clean optical surfaces. That wasn’t going to be cheap. It was still a highly skilled hand craft, that a robot couldn’t do.

Jack looked at the corner to see who was having it made. Tangent Fabrication. He’d never heard of them but he’d been out of the aerospace game for years. Then his eye caught the part name: Face Shield / Motorcycle Helmet.
“Bullshit!” he said out loud. Then he looked over his shoulders. Sudden paranoia made him want to keep this to himself until he understood why. No way in hell was this for a motorcycle helmet, so what did it mean? Why would anyone make an obsolete space suit part, and lie about what it was?

Jack was so agitated he had to get up – taking his coffee mug and going for a fresh one. The little bit of coffee left was old and burnt. If he made a new pot at 3:30 people would complain about the waste. The price of coffee was out of sight. He just rinsed the mug out and got water from the cooler.
By the time he walked back and sat at his station he was calm again. It was even starting to make a little sense to him. If you needed space suits quickly on the cheap, most NASA research and data was in the public domain. The basic design was pretty good, not like the first suit they used for Mercury which was basically a high-altitude aircraft suit. It was far better than the Apollo suits or even the very early Shuttle suits. Modernize the materials and the basic design was damn decent. But who the hell needed space suits, and wanted to keep it secret?

He wrote down Tangent Fabrication, the address, and print number on a Post-it note. He considered putting the CAD file on his key ring drive and decided against it. He wasn’t sure the network administrator wouldn’t see the download. They didn’t run a high security shop. Most of their work was appliance parts and high-end toys. Anybody could reverse engineer them by buying the product and measuring it. But they might be watching his activity to keep track of his productivity.

He had a funny feeling about this. It failed the sniff test and he intended to find out why. In fact, he had a vacation penciled in for next month. It would be worth missing a little fishing time to see what Tangent Fabrication looked like. It was north of Sacramento, along the route he’d be going anyway. He wrote down the revisions on the Post-it and put it in his wallet. Then he pulled a standard base out of the D-M-E catalog and started designing the tool. This was the most interesting thing that had happened to him in years. In that way it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

A Reluctant Sovereign is done – Next?

I should have a cover soon. I have one choice already. I probably will do a non-series book next. It’s getting harder to extend the April-Family Law series.
I have a couple books already started. I’ll post openings to see what interests you fans. Here is the first:

The trail was uphill. Not steep enough to call it a climb, but enough to force a conservative pace. The woods were dark with the dense closed canopy of old growth. The trail was not groomed or heavily used and had markers only at junctions. A couple times he’d had to look carefully to make sure he wasn’t branching off on a game trail or a clean wash by mistake. The air was cool but humid and thick with the rich odors of a forest floor piled deep with decaying debris. The logs of fallen trees were hidden under deep green caps of moss and low areas were thick with ferns.

That was fine, Robert had seen enough of bare rocky dirt and clay dust in the last six years to last him a lifetime. There were places he favored in New Mexico and Arizona. Someday he’d get back to them. But right now, he didn’t want anything that resembled the plains of Afghanistan.

His tread was too silent for bear country, but walking quietly was a difficult habit to break. He slipped back into a silent stalk if he didn’t think about it constantly, so he had a bell affixed to his walking staff. He wouldn’t mind seeing a bear, if it wasn’t up close and personal. If a bear or he made a really bad error, he had a Ruger Alaskan in .480 Ruger tucked in a clip holster inside his jeans. He wasn’t sure there was such a thing as enough gun for brown bear, but that was as much as he was willing to carry along all day. There was a single speed loader in his left pocket, full of hot hand loads crimped extra deep to hold the bullets in against the savage recoil, but he had no illusions he’d ever get all five rounds off at a charging brownie.

His pack was nothing after the full load-out he’d gotten used to in the service. He had a light bag and a shelter that wasn’t really a full tent, just a tube for the bag and an over flap and bug screen held off his head by one skinny pole. He was going to overnight once near the summit of this trail and descend about twelve kilometers tomorrow to a parking lot. There would be cell phone service there and the canoe livery in town had agreed to provide him an informal taxi service.

The way narrowed as the trail found a steeper grade between a tall bluff to the left and a drop off easing in from the right. The rocky bluff gradually dropped and became a steep slope of ferns. There was no switchback visible cutting across it so he must be very close to where the trail turned left onto the plateau. The plateau itself rose away to the east, but with a much gentler grade across the top than the trail. He’d camp at the far edge tonight before descending tomorrow.

When the slope to his left was only about ten meters high he came to a partial clearing with a jumbles of boulders and a few fallen trees. The climb was steep enough he decided to take a break. The trail curved sharply to the left ahead, no doubt breaking out on the top, and he’d like his break here where it was shady still. He found a natural seat among the boulders and left his pack on leaning back against it with his feet up on another rock. He reached back awkwardly and fetched his water bottle off the side of his pack and sipped. The wind in the trees could be heard this near the top. He could even see it stir the ferns at the top of the slope, but not feel it.

He listened carefully now that he wasn’t moving but there was no sound of small forest creatures. Once he thought he caught something calling aloud but it was too faint and though he strained to hear it didn’t repeat. He replaced the water and roused himself to finish his climb, easing off the rocks and stretching. He’d gone no more than two steps before the outcry clearly repeated from up-slope, but it seemed a voice, no animal.

He looked up again as a dark figure hurled over the edge, dark and hard to distinguish any details as it tumbled down slope crushing a groove through the perfect carpet of ferns. He watched mouth open in wonder as it rolled loosely into the clearing and fetched up against a log with a thump that made him grimace. It was a woman dressed in dark tight clothing and normal enough except for a certain frail fairy grace. She had the limp sprawl of the unconscious.

A curse pulled his eyes back to the slope again as a larger figure in digi-cam hurled off the top of the rise with even less control than the woman. His trajectory didn’t dump him into the concealing ferns until about half way down the slope and he made much more noise rolling to a stop that missed the log against which the woman had fetched up. The man had a standard issue M4 and hadn’t lost it because it was hung on a harness across his chest. He was visibly rattled and struggled to get to a sitting position although one leg was bent under him awkwardly. He looked wild eyed and tried to bring the rifle to bear on Bob, failing when he fell back on his side and jammed the muzzle in the dirt.

“Easy fella,” Bob pleaded, showing him his palms. “I’m not part of your operation, whatever it is. I’m just a hiker.” The man ignored that and although obviously hurt was determined to bring the rifle up while lying on his left side. The fellow was laying a good three meters away and seeing the wavering muzzle come up again he had no choice but to draw on him. The Ruger only had a two-and-a-half-inch barrel so the flare of unburned powder threw a flame a quarter of the distance to the man. The blast of a full hot load was deafening. He hit right center of mass, but the way the man was thrown back and was still moving told him he had on armor. He probably had a hard breast plate to stop something this heavy.

To his left the woman’s face appeared over the log shocked with eyes wide and tiny mouth a circle. It distracted him for a moment but the soldier who had been flat on his back was digging a heel in pushing himself away from Bob, to get the leg folded under him straightened out, and was up on one elbow already. His grip on the rifle and intense stare at Bob said he hadn’t given up.

Bob took careful aim right up his crotch where there would be no armor and a straight avenue up his torso to vital organs. The muzzle blast was even worse when he was anticipating it and the recoil punishing. The woman looked back and forth between him and the soldier confused.

The crack of a bullet passing in front of his face was so close the shock-wave slapped him. He turned to see another trooper standing on the top of the bluff correcting his aim when a flare of white light burst on the man’s chest and send him tumbling down the same path of crushed ferns marking the slope now. That was weird but he had no time to question it.

The woman looked over her shoulder at him with a euphoric crazed expression and raised two fingers, not in a V but together – keeping score. He returned her regard and solemnly held up one finger and then moved his hand over in a little hop to repeat it, one and one he meant to say. She seemed to find that amusing. There was a scuff and a bruise rising from her eye to her ear. The black gun in her hand was impossibly small but she made no effort to point it at him, which was an improvement on the soldier’s attitude.

“I don’t appreciate being sucked into whatever is going on,” he told the woman. “I didn’t want to shoot this stupid son of a bitch, but he wasn’t going to give up.” He stopped and stripped the body of magazines and unclipped the M4 and made sure the muzzle was clear of dirt. If there were more of them coming, he’s need more than a short-barreled pistol. There were two fragmentation grenades in the man’s vest, he hesitated thinking of the legal consequences, and then jammed them in his own pockets. They hardly mattered on top of shooting a man.

“Are there more coming?” he asked the woman. She had got up if a bit wobbly and was watching him strip the man of weapons and ammo with obvious curiosity.

“I don’t know. Very likely. As you said, they don’t give up easily. I didn’t want to shoot anybody either,” she assured him. “Or I wouldn’t have ran. Why are you taking these things?” she asked of his looting.

“If I have to have to fight with more of these fellows, I need something more than a pistol. This is an excellent weapon and I’ve trained with it,” he indicated the M4. Finding a small radio smashed it under his heel in case it had a tracer in it.

“Why is that all you are carrying then?” she asked reasonably.

“I didn’t plan on fighting anyone,” he said a bit irritated. “I didn’t even expect to see anyone out here. I was looking forward to the solitude, but that is shot to hell and gone for sure! I had the pistol in case I ran into a Grizzly.”

“What is a Grizzly?” she asked with perfect innocence.

That stopped him dead. He looked up at her unbelieving. “If you don’t know what a Grizzly is you have no business out in these woods. A Grizzly is a bear. A carnivore that stands half again as tall as me and weighs as much as fourteen hundred pounds.” He demonstrated what he meant baring his teeth and pulling both hands up with fingers curled into claws. “They can run three or four times as fast as you can and would regard you as a refreshing little appetizer. Would you like to meet one?”

“I’m starting to think no,” she allowed. “I’m not clear on pounds – how many pounds are you?” she asked giving him an appraising look.

“Well, that’s a really personal question, but since we are close enough to be killing folks together, I’m a hundred and eighty-five pounds bare assed naked of an average morning.”

“Seven times your mass?” she asked incredulous.

“Yeah, for a big one. Maybe you’ll luck out and run into a skinny one.”

She looked around the woods with new eyes. She was smart enough to be scared. He liked smart in a woman. She also had her hand back on the little bulge in a pocket that must be her gun. Smart again.

“I’m going to get the other guy’s mags too. You figure to take off on your own or are you looking to partner with me to get out of here?”

“Partner is together?” she asked dubious. “Forever or for a time?” She asked.

“I had in mind until we are clear of this mess. You want to negotiate later we can, but I’d like to be gone from here before a couple hundred of these guy’s close friends show up,” he said nodding at the corpses.

The second soldier he went to strip was burned. He’d never seen a wound like that before. It looked like the man’s chest just exploded. Like he imagined a lightning strike might look. The man had no unit patches or rank insignia, no flag or name tag either. That scared him all over again.

“You want the other rifle? He asked as he stuffed the second soldier’s magazines in his ruck. “You just have a pistol too,” he pointed out.

There was a sudden roar of rotor blades and whining turbines and a huge helicopter passed across the small patch of open sky at the top of the much abused slope, barely clearing the trees. There was a flurry of leaves and twigs from the canopy and he could follow its sound as it slowed and came back around in a circle to hover up over the edge of the plateau. It was a dark dull gray and there were no marking on it. He knew looking into the tunnel of trees by eyeball they were hidden in deep shadow, but he also knew the crew had thermal sensors and could see them glowing like neon on their screens.

He chambered a round intending to go down shooting, but he had no illusions he’d prevail seeing the barrel of a cannon pivot towards them on the helicopters snout. He was looking for an intake duct to send a burst down, hoping to ruin a turbine.

The woman raised her gun faster than him, twisting a knob hard clockwise where the hammer should be. When she squeezed off a shot a mirror appeared in the air around her muzzle. A big round mirror near a meter across. He could see her face perfectly reflected in the back of it, lips a thin line of concentration.

Beyond the mirror an eye dazzling white hot line impaled the helicopter and extended unimpeded into the sky. The vegetation rolled back from the displaced air of that beam like a tank cannons muzzle blast. It made his pistol sound like a .22. The concussion slapped him so hard it hurt.

He watched as in slow motion the rotor blades spun off in various directions. The cabin split in two and was pushed to each side by an expanding fireball. The whole tail section seemed to hang there like it was deciding whether to follow, and slowly rolled over and fell somewhere up on the plateau. They stood together while heavy chunks of machinery fell with thuds, one huge rotor blade going past overhead with a whoosh, followed by shards of burning plastic and twisted shreds of smoking sheet metal raining down all around them, nothing crushing them miraculously. His vision had a dark purple line seared in it like the mother of all flash blobs.

“I apologize for insulting your cute little pistol.” he said very formally and gave her a little bow. They both stood and laughed in manic relief at death so closely avoided. He didn’t offer her the rifle again

“I will partner for a time,” she allowed. “Lead on if you will.”

Short/raw snippet of FL7

“Are you part of the crew?” the young man sitting on the landing pad asked.

“That I am,” Gordon confessed. “Didn’t your boss give you our pix to let you identify us? Werner is usually more thorough than that.”

“I’d appreciate it if you give me a chance to call Werner and verify you have access,” the young fellow said. “Not that I have any illusions I could stop you but I had orders to keep it secure and he probably expects me to do that or die trying. I’m hoping to stay in this job after things get halfway normal so I want to keep him happy.”

He was wearing a Taser and never showed any inclination to reach for it to reassure himself. Maybe he was smart enough to survive in this job.

“No need,” Gordon told him. “There’s nothing in the Silk Road I need until we board again to leave. I’ll just sit here on the other side of this landing pad until my people get bored with the displays and come out. I’m got a big long alien name you’d never remember anyhow, but I’m Gordon. Gordon of Red Tree if you want to remember that,”

Gordon offered a true hand which actually made the poor fellow jerk in surprise. He blushed at his reaction and shook hands with the monster.

“I’m Guy Cooper,” the deputy said.

Gordon smiled really big. To Guy’s credit he didn’t flinch at that.

“When I was younger my clan wanted me to be a cooper and furniture maker. I ran away from home to escape that. I know how to make a barrel but since leaving nobody has asked me to make one. All that training was wasted. Sad…”

“What do you do on the, uh, Silk Road?” Guy asked, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not surprised they have a very limited need for barrels.”

“It’s a brand-new ship and I’m not familiar with it enough to fly it, though I do know command. I sat the weapons board this trip. It has some new things I haven’t seen before and it’s kind of interesting. The software is crap though. It would be fine for ordering carryout at a taco joint but to manage actions in the heat of battle it would eventually kill you. I’ve made a start on multi-layered subroutines but I’m still thinking on it. I don’t want my daughter’s ship to be hampered by software slower than your thinking ability.”
Gordon paused and looked embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. You triggered something in which I’m interested and I could go on about it until you fall over from boredom.”

“No, that was rather interesting,” Guy said. “A couple of the local news dogs showed video of you guys running to your ship to rush off and intercept an intruder. They weren’t very clear on all the details of who was who but I’m glad we have some people with muscle in case the Earthies come back.”

“Werner knows all the details if you can get him to stand still long enough to tell you,” Gordon told him and smiled.

“Yeah, I see you know the chances of that already,” Guy said amused.

“To tell you the bare bones. There isn’t much of North America left to threaten anybody. Their power in the heavens is broken and their ability to recover ended. There are still ships of theirs that may be a danger but what Central on the Moon hasn’t hunted down there are privateers with a Central mandate hunting them down because they’ll never be paid what the Earthies owe them. Their solely owned worlds and station are fair game too with little left to protect them. My daughter and I discovered this world and the Earthies cut us off our payments too. That’s why she is here to repossess it and see it doesn’t collapse from being cut off. There are plenty of other worlds and stations abandoned to their own devices with nobody having a clear interest or the means to rescue them.”

“But I thought the owner, Ms. Anderson, was a human,” Guy said confused.

“She is but we discovered Providence together. Her folks died here when we screwed up and had a camp that the local Velociraptor analogs overran like the electric fence wasn’t there. That left her owning two shares and me the remaining third. I was the only family left she’d ever known.”

“Oh, torpid lizards. Yeah, we don’t let them get too close to town,” Guy said. “OK, so you are her adoptive father,” Guy deduced.

“Bless you, my son. I had to kill a few thousand Earthies and destroy trillions of dollars of ships before they would agree that was possible. You just arrived at that conclusion without needing it explained in little words.”

“I know we can be asses but don’t make me feel bad for being Human.”

“I’m really fond of quite a few Humans. At least the sort who fled Earth.”

“I didn’t get here by accident,” Guy said. “I get where you are coming from.”

Guy was leaning forward with his pad in both hands thumbing it.

“What ya searching?” Gordon asked. “They don’t make veracity software for Derf.”

“Privateer,” Guy said.

Gordon let him read awhile without interruption.

“Sailing ships,” Guy muttered and continued reading. He looked up Gordon amazed. “I never hear of any of this stuff.”

“There’s a whole bunch of really old video that will amuse you,” Gordon said. “Look up Buccaneers, pirates, treasure ships, and the Jolly Roger in the new web fraction we
brought this trip.”

Thanks, I’ll do that. I like videos, new or old, even flatties,” Guy said.

“What sort do you like?” Gordon wondered.

“Oh, the bodice rippers, romances,” Guy said grinning.

“No kidding?” Gordon said keeping a straight face. “I think I see my people coming out,” he said and excused himself.

Family Law 7 – raw snippet

Lee woke up with Trish in front of her instead of behind. How she moved across without waking Lee was a mystery. Then she remembered she’d been up in the night for a couple of hours. Trish’s muzzle was buried in Lee’s armpit. It was a wonder she didn’t smother.

“Trish… ” Lee said gently. “Goy Trish,” had no impact said normally.

Lee sighed. It took shaking her by her arm delicately and then with increased vigor before her eyes finally popped open.

“If you say you were just resting your eyes I’m going to smack you,” Lee warned.

Trish looked around at the strange room amazed.

“I missed dessert, didn’t I?”

“You were going to miss breakfast if I didn’t wake you up.”

“I read that human teenagers need a lot of sleep too,” Trish said defensively.

“You read more trivia than I’ll ever manage,” Lee said.

“Well of course. You have businesses, and ships, and planets to manage,” Trish said.

It was infuriatingly reasonable.

“Watch out. I have to get up and use the bathroom.” Lee said.

“Me too,” Trish said. “But I’ll run and use the one off the kitchen.”

Lee tossed her clothes in the quick cleaner and took a shower while she was at it. When she finally came out Trish was sitting on a high stool. On the counter beside her was a package of bacon, a bowl of eggs and a bag of shredded potatoes. She was reading a fancy coffee table book with the title: The Complete Home Cook.

“You start the potatoes first because they take longest to cook,” Lee told her. “But all that won’t make a dent if you intend to feed Gandhi and Gordon.”

“Oh. That’s why there were six packages of bacon in the chiller,” Trish said.

“Refrigerator, but I knew what you meant.”

“Do we have truffle oil?” Trish asked frowning at the book.

“You’ve never cooked a meal in your life, have you?” Lee asked.

“They chase you out of the kitchen at home if you actually want to do anything,” Trish complained. “They make you sit across the table from them working.”

“Put the book away,” Lee said. “Those books with lots of pictures on shiny paper are expensive and useless. It would be a shame to get it dirty. I’ll show you what to do.”
Lee got three huge fry pans that barely fit on the huge commercial stove, a cutting board, and a two-hundred-millimeter chef’s knife from the rack.

“I’ll crack eggs and you can slice the bacon open and separate the slices,” Lee said.

Trish held the plastic package on the cutting board with her thumb hanging over the edge, reached across with the knife so close to her knuckles it made Lee’s heart skip a beat. She prepared to draw it back through plastic film and thumb.

Lee reached over and grabbed her wrist, averting certain disaster.

“You’ve never used a sharp knife before, have you?”

“My knife at dinner has some little serrations near the end,” Trish said.

“You were going to hurt yourself,” Lee said. “My fault. I might as well have handed you a loaded gun without asking if you’d been trained to use it.”

“Yes, please,” Trish said. “I’d like you to do that too.”