Sign up to hear about new releases and other exciting news from Annie Bellet.

Posts Tagged ‘Fiction’

Casimir Hypogean: Chapter One

Chapter One

Chapter 1

            Mist, pervasive and cloying, settled in between the tall buildings and along Casimir’s spiraling street.  The fog dimmed the bright advertisements pasted on screens, blurred the shining lamps and ever searching eyes of the security drones.  On the far outskirts of the shell, beneath the conical towers of the aeroponic gardens, two shadows were up to no good.

Long warehouses stacked like steps lined the way between the wide alleys. The readout panels on the doors at ground level shone dimly red, all except one.  The two shadows, revealing themselves to be thieves as they soundlessly shifted weapons and empty sacks in the darkness, honed in on the building with the panel.  One was a slim woman covered all in black from eyes to toes.  Her companion stood a head taller than she and was also covered in black but for his dark curling hair which escaped the hood of his jacket to stick to his swarthy brow.

It became immediately apparent to the thieves that someone else had gotten to the warehouse before them.

The woman, Sif, moved in on the guard watching from the doorway, dropping him to the ground before the hapless man could do more than open his mouth.  Her companion, Hex, slipped inside the door and along one wall, listening to the two men haggle.  He raised a hand, motioning the woman to move around and flank the men doing business, and their guards.  It wasn’t an ideal situation, but Hex and Sif had learned to work with what they had.

Privately, Hex vowed to pay a nasty visit on the whisperman who’d sold him the info about this warehouse and teach the little bastard the real cost of double-selling.

A balding man with stick arms and a cheap suit leaned onto the large table dividing the back of the warehouse.  On it were stacked bright red, blue, and yellow bricks of food stuffs with names like “Sunrise! Delicious!” stamped into the plastic.  There were no batch numbers yet, nor dates.

In the eyes of the two men haggling, these were bricks of credit.  For Sif and Hex, they were food.  As much as he’d have liked to, Hex knew he and Sif couldn’t get enough out of the warehouse to afford to sell any on the black market.

“One hundred work income credits each, Mr. Cimbon.”  Baldy stared up at the taller, younger man. “Seems fair, yes?”

“Fair? Seems like robbery, present situation not included, Mr. Armode.”  Mr. Cimbon glanced at his goons and they both chuckled on queue.   “Look, we’ll agree on sixty wic each, and be on our way home before curfew.  Which,” his eyes unfocused as he queried his Personal Uplink Data Implant, “is in less than a half hour.”

“You’ll starve my family at that rate, Mr. Cimbon.  Eighty-five at least.”  Mr. Armode dropped his eyes to the man’s chest, seeming to sneer at the puff of chest hair spilling over Mr. Cimbon’s partially unbuttoned shirt.

“Seventy, and we’ll throw in a voucher for Sorjipe pond-grown fish.  The real thing.  Free and clear.  Totally legit.”

“Seventy-five, and the voucher.”  Mr. Armode licked his lips.

So did Hex. Pond-grown fish was a delicacy of the very privileged and though he’d never tasted any, it was reported to be night and day away from the vat grown imitation flesh standard vouchers could acquire.  Hex knew instantly that Mr. Armode had made a mistake and bargained too low when Mr. Cimbon looked mockingly hurt as he accepted the deal.

“You’ll put us all out of business with those prices, friend. I suppose I must accept however.  Man has to eat.”

Hex figured he’d given Sif enough time.  As Mr. Cimbon had just said, a man had to eat.

The crackle of an electro pistol interrupted whatever either man might have said next.  One of the muscle men dropped.  The other went for his own gun, but another blast of energy dropped him with a blue hissing jolt.  Hex emerged from near the warehouse entrance, pistol gleaming in his hand.

“Sit down, baldy.  Put your hands on the table, flat.”  His voice was silk over gravel.  Mr. Armode did as directed.

Mr. Cimbon smirked at Hex.  “You robbing robbers, fellow?”

“Indeed.  Now, since you’re sneaking a hand toward the pistol in your jacket, you might as well remove it and set it down.”  His gun hand didn’t waver.

The smile slid off Mr. Cimbon’s face as he removed the pistol.  Hex watched him evaluate his options as he sluggishly complied with the order.  The tables covered in bricks of food could supply some cover.  There was plenty of darkness to hide in as well since the only illumination was a small battery powered glow disk resting near the terrified Mr. Armode.  Planning his next action, Mr. Cimbon kicked his gun aside, letting it slide under a table.

“Not thinking of diving after it, are you?”  Hex chuckled.  Mr. Cimbon’s thoughts were painted on his face with broad strokes.

“I have friends, mister.  Connections.  I could be useful to a man like you.  If you can accomplish this alone, think of the possibilities of a partner.”  Mr. Cimbon molded his face into an open, friendly look that was about as convincing as pink dye on a sewer rat and not nearly as pretty.

“Thanks,” Hex said, “but see, I’ve got a partner.  And she’s a hell of a lot better looking than you, I’m afraid.”

Mr. Cimbon heard a scrape near him and turned his head.  Sif emerged from the shadows holding his gun as though it were a festering rodent.

“I can certainly see your partner’s ‘perks’,” Mr. Cimbon muttered, looking at the woman’s chest filling out her hooded coat.  “She going to shoot me?”

“Her? Loria no!”  Hex said.  “She hates guns.”

As if to demonstrate that her partner had the right of things, Sif dismantled the pistol into component parts in seconds.

“Hex,” she said to her partner in subvocals through their linked PUDI, “stop preening. Stun them and let’s pack up.”

Hex sighed. He’d been enjoying the feeling of turning the tables on these assholes.

He shot first Mr. Cimbon and then Mr. Armode, the crackling electro-pistol sounding loud inside the large warehouse.  They filled two large black packs with the various food packages.  Seconds ticked past.  Sif raised her head and put up a hand.  Hex froze.

“What is it?”  he asked through the link.  She shook her head.  Then he heard the drones.  “Damn,” Hex said, “Baldy must have called security before I got him.  I guess it’s time for plan B.”

Sif crossed her green eyes and scrunched down her pale brows at him, which he barely made out in the dim interior.

Hex chuckled. “Plan B is always run like hell.”

Sif snorted and scanned the darkness.  She ducked under a bank of tables and growled, “Hex, back door,” into her sub-vocal mic.

The two slipped out the back, keeping their bodies in shadow against the long row of warehouses.  They moved through the mist toward the towering buildings that loomed like walls lining the main street of Outer Morrow.  The hum of drones and the sound of booted feet echoed in the damp air.  Hex wished they had a little heat mapping support from Ryg right now, but he’d been busy with something else tonight so they hadn’t included him in this little mission.  A shout rang out and the boot steps grew louder, closer.

“I think they’ve spotted us, probably our heat signatures,” Hex muttered into the sub-vocal mic.

He and Sif broke for the wall of buildings a hundred meters distant. Options were meager for escape.  Curfew was in a few minutes, so the subways had stopped running and soon the city lights would be shutting down.  The district gates would close.  Hex resigned himself to either a slog through the subway tunnels or a cold long climb and a mad run along the slick roofs and walkways of Outer Morrow.

Sif dashed ahead of him, a dim blur in the wet.  Running, Hex pulled his goggles out of a jacket pocket.  He shoved them on one-handed and slid the wire into his PUDI jack just below his hairline at the temple.  Once again he envied Sif her ability to see at night without artificial aid.  The world turned to shades of gray and green, shapes forming out of the darkness.  He nearly slammed into the first towering building that formed the barrier between Outland and Outer Morrow.

Sif’s gloved hand gripped his shoulder painfully hard and shoved him back against the wall.  He glanced at her.  Her beautiful face was hidden by the shadow of her black hood, her head cocked ever so slightly to the left.  Hex turned very carefully and looked out into the darkness.  He could hear the hum of drones; see their infrared lights through his goggles.  None were too close, but the net was slowly closing in.

“Not much chance of getting to a subway access from here,” Hex said into the subvocals.  Sif didn’t answer, but he’d hardly expected her to.

He felt his partner move and looked back at her.  She was crouching, staring upwards, her face pale and damp.  Hex followed her gaze and saw a large crenellation in the building above them.  Most of the buildings in the city had carvings and outcroppings such as this.  The concrete bell above them was quite large for the area, sticking out and forming a convenient ledge.  Convenient if you want to jump three meters.

“I can’t make that leap straight up, love.” He looked back down at her.

Sif smiled up at him and interlaced her long fingers to form a step.

Hex sighed.  He holstered his gun, checked the strap of the bag with their stolen food in it, and put a gritty, wet boot into her hand.

“Couldn’t we just shoot our way out of this in a blaze of glory like civilized people?” he muttered aloud.

Sif flung him upward into the air.  He nearly missed the ledge of the ostentatious bell.  His gloved hands scrabbled on it, and he winced at the noise he was making.    Infrared light flared around him as a drone pinpointed their location.  Hex hauled himself up, clinging precariously to the concrete.  Sif joined him, leaping cleanly from the ground.  She made anything physical look effortless.

Above and to the right was another bit of decoration.  Slowly they made their way upward.  Below they heard shouts but ignored them.  One persistent drone kept up, climbing with them through the air.  It was one of the egg-shaped spotter drones, at least, and not a full security model, which meant no gun.

No gun was good.  Hex hated to be in a fair fight.

Hex drew his own gun and hung from the point of a concrete crown carved to look half-submerged in the building.  The head-sized metallic construct drew near, the mist, now turning into a steady drizzle, forcing it closer in order to retain line of sight on the pair.  Hex aimed and then closed his eyes against the bright flash of the electro pistol as he shot down the drone.  It spiraled away into the darkness, echoing as it hit the pavement below.

“I just bought us a couple minutes ‘til they pinpoint us again, so let’s move.”

Sif climbed ahead of him, moving up the wall easily.  They climbed higher until Hex felt as though his arms would never empty of blood again.  No other drones had climbed this high and he wondered if they’d given up the hunt or if they’d just wait for the two to fall.  So far they’d found no windows, no access points to the building they were climbing.  He mused that their escape plan lacked some vital details in its construction.

There was a muffled curse and scrabbling off to the right and slightly above their position.  Hex felt more than saw Sif shifting and moving towards the noise.  He edged sideways, heading for the corner of the building.  Sif had disappeared when he finally found enough purchase to risk looking up.  Thankful for the roughened palms of his gloves, Hex gripped the edge of the building and cautiously swung his head around the side for a look.

Boots scrabbling on metal drew his gaze upwards.  A couple meters above Sif leaned over the rail of a fire escape landing, staring down at him.  She winked and beckoned to him.  Hex couldn’t see a good way to get to the fire escape ladder without either leaping and hoping to catch the side of the ladder or sidling back along the wall and climbing higher.  Sif would just jump.

He carefully counterbalanced his weight with his right arm against the corner and inched up the building.  When he’d judged that he was on level with Sif he slid carefully around the wall again.  She helpfully extended her hands towards him.

“This will be embarrassing if I fall,” he muttered.

“Only for about ten seconds,” said Sif.

Hex clenched his teeth and pushed away from the wall.  For a split moment he was loose in the air, flying.  Then his left hand gripped the rail while his right was caught expertly by Sif’s outstretched arms.  He hauled himself over onto the landing.

Two of the Grey Guard, Casimir’s security force, lay piled against the far rail.  To gain the ladder upwards, the two had to step over the bodies.  Hex bent, partially to catch his breath, partially to check vital signs.  They lived.

“Thanks for not killing anyone.” He looked up at Sif.

She shrugged and pushed him into the wall of the building.  Her mouth, warm and soft, pressed against his as she grabbed a handful of curls to drag his head down to hers.  He kissed her back, shivering as her body rubbed against his.  Then he gently put a hand under her chin and lifted her face away from his own.

“Interesting timing, love,” Hex said.  “Home first, perhaps.”  He looked pointedly down at the unconscious guards they were practically standing on top of.  Sif grinned at him and cupped his crotch suggestively. Then she stepped onto the ladder and began to climb.

Hex took a deep breath and started after her.  It looked like it would be another cold, wet run across the roofs of the city.

* * *

(Continue to Chapter Two)

Science Fiction Novelette

I have a near-future, hard science fiction novelette on sale now.

Ian and Jack Talley and the Prometheus Space Program set a record for the fastest manned flight to Jupiter. But the journey ended in disaster, crippling Jack and killing the rest of the team.
Ten years later, an eccentric multi-billionaire offers them all of his money, and a second chance, if they’ll fly him to Pluto. The Talley brothers reunite their team, ready to rekindle the dream of manned space flight. But self-doubts and technological issues both old and new appear, leaving the question open: are they making history? Or repeating it? And finding the answers could cost them far more than the Prometheus program.

Here’s the links to buy- (it’s only $1.99!)  Kindle (which hilariously has a reversed cover image, that will be fixed soon), Nook, and pretty much all other formats.

Now, back to writing this novel.  Enjoy!

Sale Sale Sale Sale

I sold another story.  To a pro-paying magazine.  Details to follow once contracts are all worked out etc…  But man, it’s nice to have a sale.

Follow Heinlein’s Rules for Writers. It pays off.  Seriously.  I almost trunked this story due to thinking that the content might make it too hard to sell.  Ha! I was so wrong.  Good thing I ignored that stupid inner demon voice, eh?

So yeah, I have to go dance on a couple more rooftops. Then, I really should finish this novel.

Thoughts on Rewriting

I’m one chapter into the rewrite of my first novel.  I’m glad I decided to start anew rather than continue trying to fix what came before.  I doubt I’ll use much of the old material beyond the plot, characters, and some ideas.  There are particular challenges, however.  In rewriting I’m essentially constructing another novel from scratch.  This means I have to do most of the work over again.  It would be very easy to overwhelm myself with the concept of “Too Much Work.”

To combat this, I’ve decided on the major large changes and then have narrowed my focus.  I outlined with the major changes.  For this rewrite, however, I’m mainly working on getting the characters motivated.  Looking at the first draft I don’t really feel connected to anyone in the novel.  I feel like I could, maybe, like a couple of the characters, but they aren’t quite there yet for me.  They feel flat.   This is not acceptable.  I read novels 70-80% for the people in them.  I want to write novels that have the same draw.

To do this, I’m plunging in and going (perhaps) a bit overboard.  I’ve done a lot of hand written background brainstorming for everyone.  I’ve made RPG character profiles for a couple of them.  I’ve given them disorders, quirks, interests.  Essentially, I’ve thrown the kitchen sink of character building at my people.  I was in the bath when I realized that I needed to do this.  Before a day or two ago, they weren’t talking to me.  I couldn’t really see the characters as more than wooden dolls in a nice set I’d created.  I don’t want to play with dolls (dolls are creepy. Seriously creepy).

With this focus, now I can continue the rewrite.  Plot and setting can be tweaked.  If I can manage a few compelling, interesting, dare I say memorable characters, the rest can follow.  The rest will follow.

Here’s a list of the changes between drafts one and two.  (In no particular order).

The Dude is now named Ryg.  He’s also agoraphobic and OCD.

Sif talks less.  In fact, she pretty much only talks to Hex.  She’s also far more psychotic and less moral than before.

Sif and Hex are already in a relationship.

Hex is not the jealous type anymore.  He’s now the type to hide his insecurities with sarcasm.  He’s also more accepting of Sif and her issues.

Kadin is a more major character who contributes to a twist.

The setting is quite a bit different.  There are no cars now, just small electric vehicles  and personal transportation.  Stuff is transported on the electric rail system under the city or via carts hooked to the personal vehicles.  I’ve refined and altered the food system as well as government.  The city only has one main street now, the whole thing is a spiral.  The districts are more defined (and in fact can be closed off from each other if necessary).  The setting is much more complex, but also I hope more unique and interesting.  Since I’m focusing on character, not setting as much, I will definitely have to flesh some things out later I think.  That’s what the next bit of editing is for.

The plot is essentially the same, but with some more challenges and complexities tossed in.  I’ve removed the secret society and am working on making everyone motivated due to character desires rather than using the GM Stick.

On another note: sometimes I think I definitely bit off more than I really should have for this first novel.  I’m writing what boils down to a Political Cyberpunk Adventure/Thriller with medical and fantastical elements.  Couldn’t I have just started out with a nice straightforward quest fantasy or something?  It feels like learning to walk by running a marathon.

Premier of Short Story Monday!

Short Story Monday Begins!  I’ll try, for the sake of organization, to keep these Monday posts at least similar in appearance.

Story Title:  Space Bones

Word Count: 4158

Plot Summary: While being escorted to her Court Martial, a Captain and her escort encounter something wondrous in hyperspace.

Time to write first draft: About 4.5 hours.

Other Comments:  This story is actually in two parts because I got to what felt like one ending and wanted to continue from there just to see how it worked.  So the first part is 3332 words and the second is 826 or there abouts.  When I sat down to write in the wee hours, I had nothing but the title.  I liked the title, however.  I started and got about a paragraph into one story and realized it wasn’t the Space Bones story.  So I cut and saved it to a note file for later and started over again.   After working so much on my novel, which is third person omniscient, I really wanted to write something in first person.   I find first person much easier to sustain than third, so it’s sort of like taking a big old brain break.

I used The Rough Guide to the Universe by John Scalzi to generate some places and names and ran with it from there.  The story is a rough sketch, sort of like the bones referenced.  I like that about it.  We’ll see what my unfortunate readers think.  Because, oh yes, I’ve created a nice little list and I’m going to mail these Monday stories to my dear friends.  Don’t pity them too much. They can opt out, I won’t hate them for more than a year or six. Truly.

Now, back to breaking my brains on Casimir Hypogean.