Hannah the HuntressThis is a fast-paced, supernatural horror adventure laced with film, TV, and literary references. Hannah and her friends are teenagers in a small-town that is abruptly attacked by monsters of every description–zombies, vampires, witches etc. Fortunately, they are assisted by the wizard Merlyn Morningstar and Hannah’s mother Sarah, both of whom have seen a thing or two in their day.

There are violent, bloody battles, punctuated by snappy, sometimes fourth wall-breaking wisecracks. There are sword fights, and wizards’ duels, and at least one extra-dimensional excursion.  I think the overall concept may be an homage to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but having never watched that, I can’t be sure.

One thing I particularly liked about the book was the depiction of Dr. Frankenstein and his monster. Especially the monster: Colonel Karl Hesse, a Prussian soldier in life, before falling into the mad doctor’s clutches. He’s portrayed as a towering, powerful and heavily-armed one-man army. I adore the description of him lumbering up a hill clad in his old cavalry uniform.

In fact, one of my complaints is that he’s not in the book enough. Although, this may be unfair, because I’m not sure I could get enough of him even if he were the protagonist.

The action is, as I said, very violent. Most of it has sort of a cheesy, comic-book or low-budget horror film vibe for most of it, although there is one scene, very close to the end, of true horror that is very disturbing. Indeed, as this book is the first of two, and ends on a real cliff-hanger, I am hopeful that the wrongs done in this scene may be righted in the subsequent volume.

Now, apart from the violence, which was rather more than I typically enjoy but your mileage may vary, there are a few little technical issues. There’s a bit of a formatting oddity on Kindle that makes paragraph breaks appear randomly. This was slightly confusing at first, as I thought a new section was starting when it wasn’t, but I quickly got used to it. There are also a few typos, although by no means a huge number for an indie book. As I always say, that’s the beauty of e-publishing–you can always go back and fix these things.

But don’t let these minor nitpicks dissuade you from reading it. If you’re a fan of supernatural horror, and the zombie genre especially, this is a book you will enjoy. And if you like the story of Dr. Frankenstein and his monster, you definitely shouldn’t miss it, as this tackles the classic story in a very clever way.

I think most people who read the blog regularly have already read my books, but if you’d like to recommend any of them to your friends, now is a good time.

41JZ1SRtsjLToday is my birthday. To celebrate, my sci-fi long short story 1NG4 is free on Kindle. Here are some reviews if you want a better idea of what it’s about.

VMFACAlso, my Halloween-themed long short story Vespasian Moon’s Fabulous Autumn Carnival is available for a price of your choice (including free) on Smashwords. It’s obviously more of a story for Autumn, but if it sounds like something you’d like to read, you can download it now for reading when we’re nearer to the eve of All Saints’ Day.

Besides those, if you’re of a mind to get me a present for some reason, read my sci-fi novel The Directorate and tell me what you think. It’s 99 cents on Kindle. You can listen to the beginning here:

 

 

TLRFA-7

Charlie’s eyes widened as the implication dawned on him. “Wait… you mean… me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Sandra replied. “But at the same time… You were the only one here that night.”

“No… absolutely not!” Charlie protested. “I didn’t—like I said, I was holed up at the front.”

“Until your alleged ghostly entity forced you to come back this way, according to your story.”

“What? No; look, that’s what happened, I swear. I came back here, and I found Mr. Lurge. It was the first I saw him or knew he was here! I would never have done anything to him, anyway—he was a good boss! He gave me this gig and he was always nice to me.” 

“Calm down,” said Venus. “We’re not accusing you.”

Charlie seemed not to have heard. “I’ll tell you what happened—it was the ghosts! Samuel, I guess. Maybe something else. But that’s the only way it makes sense—they must have brought the robots online and had them kill Mr. Lurge. Probably to get revenge on the family, I guess.”

He paused to catch his breath, and Sandra seized her opportunity:

“This ghost business has got to stop, okay? I’m not saying you’re implicated, but spouting nonsense won’t help your case, understand? Just be cool, kid.”

Charlie nodded, still looking quite frantic.

“You said the bots have to be activated in the main office—where’s that?”

“It’s in the center of this building. We’ll have to go further into the factory and then go up a couple floors. But it’s—“ he paused abruptly, seeming not to know what to say.

“It’s what?” 

“Uh, well, I don’t know how to… that is…”

“It’s something else about ghosts, isn’t it?” said Venus.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Look, we can handle any ghosts, okay?” Sandra said firmly. “Take us to this office.”

Charlie swallowed hard and then pointed the way. Together, the three continued past the long, silent line of mechanical warriors, which were sporadically illuminated by the blue glow of lightning flashes. The storm outside was drawing near, and the narrow window slits where the wall met the ceiling rattled in the increasingly violent wind.

At last, they reached a sort of central pillar made of huge concrete blocks, inside of which was molded a stairwell leading up into blackness. The three went inside and up the winding stairs, advancing slowly, sweeping the beam of Sandra’s light before them. Once, Venus abruptly held out a hand, pressing it into Sandra’s chest to bring her to a halt.

“What are you doing?” Sandra demanded.

Venus nodded upward, and Sandra raised the beam of her light in the direction indicated, till it fell upon a huge, hairy spider scurrying into a crack in the wall. 

“Whoa, thanks. How did you know that was there?”

Venus shrugged. “Sixth sense, I guess.”

They began to move forward again when a muffled noise from behind made them turn around. Charlie remained on the landing, staring at the wall. 

“I hate spiders, okay?” he said. “Can’t we just blow this haunted pop stand and come back in the daytime?”

“We’re going to the office,” Sandra said. “You wanna stay down, be my guest.”

Considering this, Charlie reluctantly followed. “Sure, you two probably feel safer with me.”

 At last, they came to the top of the last flight, and a battered red door that opened into a long hallway. This hall was more luxurious than the industrial, unpainted metal-and-concrete of the lower levels. It was carpeted with avocado-green shag and the walls featured vintage Lurge adverts depicting bots in alien landscapes or space stations. There were doorways every few yards, leading to vacant offices.

“These are the executive suites,” Charlie said. “I’ve only been up here once, for my interview. That’s when Lurge told me about the control panel in his office. It’s at the end of this hall, on the right.”

And indeed, as they reached the end of the corridor, they saw to their right a large wooden door, with a brass nameplate bearing the words, “Lothar Lurge, President and CEO”

Charlie stepped forward and inserted his key into the lock. He turned it hesitantly, and the door creaked open.

“Look at you, with a key to the boss’s office,” Sandra remarked.

“Naturally,” he said, some of his old bravado returning. “Old Man Lurge knew I’d need a master key since I kept the whole joint secure at night.”

Lurge’s office was fairly spacious.  An area at the front, separated from the main space by avocado-colored dividers, had a desk and filing cabinets, was presumably for a secretary — Miss Ritter, according to the nameplate.  The larger, executive desk sat at the rear of the room, in front of a massive bank of windows against which the rain continued pounding. 

“So, where are the controls you were talking about?” 

“I think they’re at Mr. Lurge’s desk, but I don’t know exactly”

“Okay. Stay just outside in the hallway and  guard the door,” Sandra commanded, as she and Venus hurried to the desk, and started looking at the panels of monitors, buttons and switches arrayed there. 

“It wants a password,” said Sandra, opening a window on the largest terminal. “Do you know it?” she called to Charlie, who shook his head.

“Hey, I’m pretty good at guessing passwords,” said Venus, resting her fingers on the keypad and closing her eyes, as if concentrating for a moment. Then her fingers flew, and immediately, the words “Access Granted” flashed on the screen.

“How’d you do that?” Sandra asked in amazement.

“Something I picked up in the FES,” the other woman replied with a shrug. “Here, let’s do some digging.”

Together, they read through the messages on the mail client, which was automatically displayed on the screen. Most were uninteresting reminders, alluding to meetings and deals they had no knowledge of. 

“What’s this here?” Sandra said, pointing at one message, from Mr. Lurge to Miss Ritter. Venus opened the message and read aloud:

Babe —

I need to expedite matters. She’s been looking daggers at me every morning, and it gives me the creeps. I think I’ve got a plan.  I’ll give you the details — and a whole lot more — when you get back.

–L.

“Ewww!” said Sandra and Venus in unison as they exchanged shocked looks. “Well, I don’t like the sound of that!” said Venus, with a scandalized expression.

“Neither do I,” said Sandra.

“Me neither, ladies,” the voice of Max concurred, causing both of them to start.

TEThis is a departure from the kind of book I normally review. I mostly focus on reviewing modern indie books. This book was published in 1974, and while it isn’t exactly a famous book, it’s reasonably well-known. (375 ratings on Goodreads.)

So, why am I reviewing it? Well, I picked it up on a lark after seeing the cover and decided to give it a try. It’s sci-fi, which I like, and it follows a team of researchers exploring a distant planet.

The protagonist is researcher Ian Macauley, an introverted and extremely intelligent man who is part of the new rotation of scientists journeying to the world of Sigma Draconis. Supervising the team is General Ordoñez-Vico, an authoritarian martinet with little appreciation for science and a great deal of paranoia. Ordoñez-Vico is authorized to make a recommendation to the Earth authorities on whether the mission should continue, and all the science team walks on eggshells to avoid enraging him.

This makes their already difficult task more complicated, as they are facing the incredible challenge of reasoning out what befell the race of beings known as the Draconians, an intelligent race which went from the Stone Age to the Space Age in a very short period of time–and then to extinction shortly thereafter.

The science team is an international coalition of researchers–brilliant people from various fields and all different backgrounds. And even so, they all find themselves turning to Ian for inspiration, as his brilliant, empathic mind–which he likens to a “haunted house”–tries to unravel the mystery.

The characters are well fleshed-out and believable. There’s a romantic subplot between Ian and Cathy, another member of the team, and it doesn’t feel tacked on at all; it seems completely believable and emotionally consistent.

There isn’t much “conflict” in the typical sense; it’s really a mystery. The main plot is centered on uncovering what happened to the Draconians. Some readers might find the middle section of the book a bit talky–it’s a fairly realistic depiction of scholars arguing over theories–but personally, I liked it. It made for a compelling intellectual exercise, and while it’s sometimes a bit verbose, it makes sense that scientists would have discussions like this.

Another terrific concept is the method Ian uses to try to get “in the minds” of the extinct race. I won’t spoil it, but it really is ingenious.

Something else I won’t spoil is the answer to how the Draconians went extinct. The ending of the book does explain that, in a way I found satisfying and logical. And there is a resolution for the human characters’ storylines as well. Though here I’ll risk a little bit of spoilage to note that readers should be warned: this isn’t an upbeat book. I won’t say too much, but don’t expect the sort of sci-fi story that ends with a victory parade and a medal ceremony, let’s just leave it at that.

There are a lot of elements of the horror genre in Total Eclipse. The premise of a team of scientists researching alien life in a remote and forbidding setting is a classic horror concept that runs from At The Mountains of Madness through Who Goes There? up to the Alien prequel Prometheus. Yet, this isn’t a horror novel, or at least not in a monster story kind of way. There is horror, but of a more subtle, realistic kind, and blended very closely with the wonder of exploring a new world, utterly different from our own.

The horror and the wonder mingle together to produce a profoundly weird and memorable mood. It’s something close to the feeling of sublime terror that the literary Romantics of the 18th and 19th centuries sought to evoke with Gothic fiction, and yet at no point does it suggest there are magical or supernatural elements at work. The “science” in “science fiction” is definitely emphasized throughout.

And now–even though I promised I would try to stop doing this–a word about the cover. Or rather the covers.

The cover for the Kindle edition that I have is just whatever. It fulfills the minimum requirement of having the author’s name and the title displayed clearly and legibly, but other than that, has no artistic merit whatsoever.

The cover for the paperback edition, pictured above, is a major reason I bought this book. I saw it on Henry Vogel’s Twitter page, and I fell in love at once. Look at it–it’s beautiful. Mysterious, evocative and intriguing. To me, the style of art that went on the covers of these classic sci-fi tales was something of a high point for cover design. Modern photo editing software allows cover designers to create wonderfully realistic images, but these often fail to capture that unique blend of star-gazing romanticism and gritty reality that these older covers do.

TLRFA-6

“Big ol’ storm’s rollin’ in,” Sandra noted after the thunder subsided. “Anyway, you were tellin’ us about this Eidolon thing.”

Charlie nodded importantly. “No one knows what it is. It’s invisible, but you can feel it coming, because it knocks out the power when it does. Old Doyle, the weekend guard, swears it’s a failed experiment with nanobots. He figures the nanites were given the programming of a hush-hush prototype network-distributed crime-fighting artificial intelligence they’d been working on in R&D, and they went nuts. Now they roam the factory in a swarm, killing anyone they find.”

“Uh huh. So what’s this got to do with the night you found Mr. Lurge?”

“Well, I was at my station up front, just doing my usual. I thought I heard noises back here and but figured it was just Samuel. I was looking at some, uh, pictures—security footage, that was it—when I looked up and out the window.  That’s when I saw the parking lot lights going out—first they’d flicker, and then they’d pop out. When my desk lamp started doing the same thing. I knew it had to be the Eidolon coming.”  He nodded with great seriousness.

“And you realized since it was coming across the parking lot, your best bet was to retreat into the factory,” Venus finished.

Charlie blinked a few times. “Yeah… that’s right. How’d you know?”

“We’re detectives,” said Venus.

“Oh, yeah…”

“So, Charlie, let’s all go into the factory. Ms. Darcy and I will go first, make sure the coast is clear, then you can show us where you found Mr. Lurge, and we’ll clear out, okay?”

“You’ll go first?” he said, his cocky manner starting to return. “I’ll keep watch on the rear.”

Sandra again fought the urge to roll her eyes. Some security guard, she thought to herself.

“Let’s get going,” Venus said blandly.

“Well, okay. But I’ve gotta warn you: there’s no telling what’ll show up in there. You know, there have been teams of pro ghost hunters that come to investigate this place, and you know what?”

“They were all killed by ghosts, providing hard evidence of a spirit world which somehow has still received no attention from the media?” Sandra snapped.

“Uh, no… not that.”

“Didn’t think so, actually.”

“But they recorded these freaky noises! Here,” he pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped a few times, then held the device up for Sandra and Venus to see.

On the screen was displayed green-tinted night vision footage of a bearded man standing in the beam of a strong light, throwing an eerie halo around him as he walked through what appeared to be an endless black abyss.

“They say this is where the old floor manager was burned alive by the robot’s cannons,” the man on the screen was saying. “It’s pretty spooky, I can tell you. It feels like there’s something here. We’re lucky our equipment works down here, the energies in this place can disrupt electronic devices. Our cell phones have been on the fritz since we got here.”

From his pocket, the bearded man took a small rectangular device and held it up to the air.  “Let’s see what our proprietary ectoplasmic aural spectrometer can detect.” After a few moments, he lowered the device and pressed a button on the side. It began to playback a weird series of noises which resembled badly-garbled speech, as if spoken on a radio frequency full of interference.

“Do you hear that?” He said. “It’s saying ‘get away,” isn’t it?”

He played the noise back several times: “Get away! Get away! Get away!” it said, and though still garbled, each time it seemed clearer and clearer.

“The human ear can’t detect the cries of lost souls,” the man concluded, “But our devices detect the frequencies from the planes beyond, of spirits stuck between this world and the next.”

The clip ended there, and Charlie gave a firm nod towards his phone, as if to say, “I told you so.”

“That was recorded on the factory floor just about a year ago,” he said. 

“Okay, good,” said Sandra. “Come on, enough stalling; let’s get this over with. How do you turn the lights on in here?” She stepped through the huge doorway and into the cavernous room beyond. Although in the darkness she could see only a few feet ahead, the echoing of her footsteps told her the room was vast indeed. 

“You don’t,” said Charlie.

“What?” 

“You don’t turn the lights on. The old man took out the wiring years ago; he said he didn’t want to waste the money. During the day, enough light comes in that you can see pretty good.”

“And at night?”

“No one’s supposed to go in here at night; except for ghost hunts, and those happen in the dark anyway.”

“It’s okay,” Venus said, “Sandra; I think my eyes’ll adjust pretty well, if you want to hang back, I’ll go with him—”

Oh, so you can take the credit? Sandra thought. “I’ve got a flashlight; I’ll be fine, c’mon, let’s go.”

Sandra flicked on the beam of light and the three walked into the room. More muffled rumbling from outside indicated the storm was drawing near. Sandra flicked the beam of her light from left to right; inspecting the surroundings. Dilapidated conveyer belts and welding arms sat on the left; on the right, massive rust-covered hooks, designed for loading the finished products into government trucks, hung ominously from chains that disappeared into the blackness above. At irregularly-spaced intervals were pyramidal stacks of cardboard boxes, all labeled “Fragile” and some “Top Secret.” Every few yards, mounted about nine feet up the grey, featureless wall, were inoperative, bulb-less light fixtures, and just below these, small silver disks resembling smoke detectors. The room was cold—clearly, Lurge had not been any more willing to pay for heat than he had for light—and the total absence of the reassuring white noise found in almost all buildings made it feel even more remote and empty. 

Eventually, the narrow cone of Sandra’s flashlight fell upon something that made all three stop at once, and Charlie yelped with a noise halfway between terror and excitement as he crashed into Venus’ back. She pushed him away, and all three stared at the thing before them.

It was huge, at least 7 feet in height, and in the general build of its frame, resembled a massive ape. This was by design; it was meant to instill fear by conjuring the genetic memories of great menacing beasts. But where an ape would have had curved muscle, soft flesh, and fur, this figure was outfitted with sharp, angular points of metal—one arm terminating in a long cylinder pockmarked with holes, and the opposite limb in a serrated blade nearly two feet long. Its blocky legs were bent as if it were poised to spring upon its prey, and on its shoulders sat what, by analogy to organic bipeds, might be called its head; a silvery metal cube, covered with thin wire mesh. This appendage was small in comparison to the rest of the armored monster, and if the rest of the figure were not so manifestly intimidating, might have appeared comical.

“Wow, a genuine combat infantry bot,” Venus whispered. 

“More like fifty genuine combat infantry bots,” Sandra said, shining her light behind the figure, revealing more identical forms assembled behind it, in a long, perfectly-spaced line; soldiers standing eternal guard at their posts.

“Technically, these are assault bots,” Charlie with some self-importance. “The way you can tell is that they have more armor in the chest and shoulder areas than a standard infantry bot. These are for storming fortified positions, whereas the typical infantry bot—”

Venus and Sandra simultaneously glared at Charlie in a way that clearly communicated to him that further details regarding the different attributes and uses of war robots were not required at this time.

“Is this where you found Lurge?” 

“Er, yeah; just about. He was…” Charlie looked at the floor and held up his hands as if to measure, pointing to a spot some three yards from the clawed feet of the first robot in line. “…right about here. Well, mostly. Part of him was here. And there.” He indicated an open area a few yards away. “And some more over there.”

“So, you’re quite sure the robots did it, then?” Venus asked.

Charlie shook his head. “Well, maybe the robots pulled the trigger. But there’s no way they shoulda been on! These things are deactivated—they’re just here for tourists to see.”

“Do they have an energy source?” Venus asked.

“Well, yeah; I mean, there’s a power core in ‘em for demos. But they should never open fire. At most they’d just stomp around a little and look threatening. But that’s only if someone went to the main office and manually activated ‘em.” Charlie could tell he had their attention, and he intended to keep it as long as he could. “There’s this whole security protocol the bots have to go through—they have a voice-controlled activation system. There’s a series of questions the bots ask whoever activated ‘em.”

“So, they have voice recognition capability?” Venus asked.

Charlie nodded. “Yup. Voice samples of all key Lurge personnel on file.” There was a very long pause, and Sandra and Venus exchanged a glance. Then both of them looked at Charlie.

“Chief of Security would be key personnel, huh?” said Sandra quietly.

close to perfectThis book is a transcript of a discussion hosted by indie author Kevin Brennan with Karen Choi and Dan DeLonge. Before you go off to search on those latter two names; they are pseudonyms. Both of them are successful authors, and because they are speaking frankly about the industry in this discussion, they are not using their real names.

In a way, this is too bad, because I really wanted to read their books after reading this discussion. But, it’s good that they were able to voice their honest opinions.

The discussion covers every aspect of the writing process, from inspiration, to getting the first draft down, to editing, to publication and marketing. Every writer will instantly relate to the points they make in here, and it’s well-worth reading for anybody interested in the craft of writing.

I won’t go into too much detail about what they say on each subject–the whole point of the book is to read the opinions of three writers on these topics, and it would be a disservice to paraphrase them too much. All I’ll say is that this book is a perfect illustration of one of the best things about writing: the community. Writing may be a solitary activity, but even we writers enjoy hearing the thoughts of others who know what it’s like to dream up a whole story and commit it to the page. This is a great way to do exactly that.

TLRFA-5They rode in silence out of Gelunbu and onto the outer beltway. The sun was sinking low in the sky, and the clouds gathering on the horizon were deep blue against the blazing orange of the autumn light. As the towers of the city receded into the distance, they found themselves racing into a multicolored world of the splendid autumn leaves, punctuated at intervals by signs indicating off ramps, and occasional neon advertars—huge, semi-transparent three-dimensional figures, drawing glowing letters in the air with messages like, “Hughes’s Groovy House of Hovercars: Lease A New Myra With No Money Down”  and “A New Age Dawns: Buy From Katie’s Acrylics Now!”

Finally, Venus broke the silence: “You know, I told you my background, but I didn’t ask yours. How did you come to be here?”

Sandra kept her eyes on the road. “I was a cop. Then I quit and started doing this.”

There was a pause, until Venus realized she wasn’t going to continue. “So… any family?”

“I have a brother lives outta state. Haven’t seen him in years. He’s some kind of manager at a rocket lab, I think.”

“No boyfriend? Girlfriend? Cat? Dog?”

“Look,” said Sandra, finally jerking her head around to look at Venus. “I’m not lookin’ to be buddies, okay? For some reason, Max brought you aboard. I don’t know why, he didn’t ask me, and I don’t like it. I’ll work with you, ‘cause that’s what he pays me for, but—”

Venus interrupted. “Look—it’s a long story; we probably don’t have time for it right now. But I’m not replacing you, not at all. Max had to hire me for a very specific reason, and it’s not about you. Well, I guess it is kind of about you, in that Max won’t shut up about how awesome you are, and that I could learn a lot from you.”

Sandra was more than a little taken aback by this, and was tempted to ask her to say more, but at that moment, the Exit sign for “Lurge Robotics” appeared, and the car veered onto the off-ramp, and the huge exhaust towers of the factory loomed up over the trees like a battery of cannons, surrounding a huge cooling tower with the single word “LURGE” across it in fifteen-foot-tall letters.

The two women wound their way down the narrow road that ran behind the sprawling complex, gazing across the open field that separated the road from the chain-link fence at the edge of the factory yard. In the light of the setting sun, the orange glint in the windows of the long, rusty-red buildings made the old plant seem as though it had sprung into action again, once more forging armies like those that had waged the Great Robot War of ’57. 

But only for a moment. Then the angle changed and the reflection vanished, and the sprawling industrial campus appeared once more as it really was—dead and desolate.

The hatchback pulled up to the front gate, which lifted automatically and allowed them to enter.

“This certainly looks inviting,” Sandra muttered as they pulled to a stop and the car settled to the ground. They climbed out of the vehicle and walked across the eerily empty asphalt of the parking lot, the chilly breeze whooshing against them as they went. Sandra pulled her red leather blazer tighter, her hand brushing the strap of her shoulder holster as she did so. She stopped abruptly and turned to Venus, who was clad only in a dress slacks and a thin grey sweater.

“You got a gun?” Sandra asked.

“No, I don’t.” 

Sandra sighed impatiently. “Ugh; well, you better get one soon. Get yourself a JEK-17; there’s nothin’ else like it. It’s heavy, but it packs a punch.” She patted the holster under her jacket.

“I’m sure you can cover me if it comes to that,” said Venus, her mouth twitching a bit. “Besides, are you really expecting to get in a shoot-out here?”

Sandra shook her head. “I dunno what kinda training they gave you in the FES, but I don’t want to argue about it now; it’s freezing out here.” 

They walked briskly to the nearest building, the only one that was lit. An electric glow illuminated a sign that read “Visitor Check-In” There was a wheezy chime as the door slid open, and they entered a dimly-lit waiting room. At the desk was seated a skinny young man of about twenty, wearing an ill-fitting uniform, with a police-style hat perched backwards on his head. He had been engrossed in something on  a small tablet device, but glanced up and set it aside on hearing them enter. 

“Geez!” he said, standing up and straightening his dark green tie. “I mean—whoa!” He stared at them wide-eyed, mouth curving into a smirk.

“Hello,” said Venus, extending a hand. 

There was a pause of a few seconds before the dazed guard reciprocated the gesture. 

“I’m Venus Miles, and this is Sandra Darcy. We’re private investigators.”

“And our eyes are up here,” Sandra said sharply, keeping her own hands at her sides.

“Sure thing,” the young man said, blinking and re-focusing his gaze slowly, “Charlie Bradler, chief of overnight security for Lurge Robotics.” He paused as if to divulge something significant.  “Keepin’ it going all night long.”

Sandra fought the urge to roll her eyes.  She continued evenly, “You were on duty the night of October 1 of this year?”

 “Uh, yeah; I was. Manning ‘Control Central’ as usual.”

“You discovered Mr. Lurge’s remains?”

“Sure did.”

“Walk us through your exact routine, please.”

“Well, um, I came in 7PM, checked out everything, activated the security system, and then took up my position.”

“How does the security system work?”

Bradler shrugged. “Dunno  exactly; she’s a state-of-the-art, proprietary system.” He jerked his head in the direction of a rather old-fashioned panel on the wall behind his desk. “I just enter codes into that panel to turn it on every night. Mr. Lurge said activating those motion sensors was the most important part of the job; he had the whole thing installed special, and he told me it was my responsibility to keep it running.”

“Do you ever patrol the premises? Check things out?”

He smirked. “Oh, yeah; I check things out, that’s for sure.”

Sandra rolled her eyes again. “Just answer the question.”

“Every couple of hours yeah; I go on my rounds, sure. That’s what I was doing when I found him.”

“But you had no idea he was in the factory prior to finding his remains?”

The young man fidgeted with his clip-on tie. “Right… I… um… heard noises… but I didn’t… I figured I should keep monitoring from The Bridge.”

Sandra’s gaze hardened.

“You’re the night watchman. You heard strange noises, and you didn’t investigate?”

He looked down furtively for an instant, then tried to resume his previous cocky manner.

“Old Man Lurge told me about some stuff that might go down here.  Gave me a real good handle on what needs to be looked into, and what needs to be let alone.”

Sandra continued to stare him down. “What kind of a guard are you?”

“You don’t understand!” He blurted out. “The factory is haunted! There have always been weird noises at night, and it’s not from anything alive or natural. It freaks me out, and I keep away.”

Sandra shook her head. “Seriously, kid?” 

“It’s true!” he insisted. “You must have heard the stories—you know, they play it up like it’s all fun and games for the little kids, but this place is weird! Old Man Lurge knew; he told me about it, too. When he hired me, he said ‘Son, there’s stuff in there I don’t understand. You’ll hear it late at night sometimes. You just leave it alone.’ And that’s what I was doing,” he finished in a rush.

Sandra’s eyes darted to Venus, who was trying to suppress a smile.

“Okay,” Sandra said after a moment. “But you did eventually go onto the factory floor, right?”

“Sure, I’m supposed to poke my head in the door of the factory and shine a light around. So that night, around 3AM, I did that. And…”

Sandra cut him off.  “You made your first rounds eight hours after your shift started?’

Bradler shrugged.  “I was busy.”

After a moment or two, when no further explanation was offered, Sandra sighed. “Can you show us the exact place?” Sandra asked, “We need to inspect the scene of the incident.”

He gulped, then recovered some of his earlier bravado.  “Definitely!  But you know, I probably shouldn’t leave the Main Entrance unguarded for that long. You ladies are professionals,” he smirked, “and I’m sure I can trust you on your own.  I can monitor your movements from here.” He gestured grandly towards a row of security camera displays, only one of which seemed to be functional.

“But, Charlie, we need you to show us the exact spot.  We’d never find it on our own,” insisted Venus.

“What—now?” 

“‘He who hesitates is lost.’”

“Look,” he said, glancing nervously towards the long corridor behind him, barely lit by a single bulb hanging by a wire from the high ceiling. “It’s super freaky back there. Can’t we go some other time—when it’s sunny?”

“No,” said Sandra, walking past him and starting down the hall. “Unlock this door and take us back there.  You don’t want us telling Mrs. Lurge you’re holding up our investigation.”

The young man looked around wildly, first at Venus, then back at Sandra, then down at his desk, then back to Venus again, as if hoping some solution would become apparent. But he soon realized nothing would dissuade Sandra and scurried down the hall after her, till finally they reached the huge metal door at the back. He approached a small console beside the door and with trembling fingers, swiped a card and entered a passcode while Sandra watched, arms folded, foot tapping the floor impatiently.

“There you go,” he said, after finally managing to enter the code correctly. Within seconds, the thick walls, gears growled and groaned with motion, and the metal slab began to slowly rise.

“Thank you,” said Sandra. “That wasn’t so bad was it? Now how’s about you show us just where you found Mr. Lurge?”

Even in the gloom of the dark hallway, it was clear that the color was draining from his face. “You want me to go in there?”

“You ask too many questions,” Sandra said. “Yes, come in and show us where you found him. It can’t be that bad in here; after all, you came in the night you found him.”

“That was… different,” he muttered.

“How so?” asked Venus, who had come down the hall behind him, and whose sudden arrival beside him caused him to whirl about. 

“Oh, it’s only you,” he said, clutching his chest in relief. “Titan, was it?”

“Venus,” she corrected primly.

“Oops… wrong heavenly body.” This line he accompanied with a feeble attempt at his swaggering manner, though it looked more like the grimace of someone shivering in the cold. Sandra snorted theatrically, but Venus acted as though she hadn’t heard him at all.

“Now, come on, tell us what was different that night that made you go into the factory.” 

Bradler seized this opportunity to both delay and explain himself, and began:

“Here’s the lowdown: there are different ghosts around here, and you get to know which ones are acting up on a certain night. Some nights, you’ve got Samuel in the factory. He was an old line manager back in the day. They say he pitched over the side onto the factory floor one day when they were in full production. The emergency breaker kicked in too late, and he… he was crushed by one of the bots. And ever since, his ghost comes round here, rattlin’ the equipment and crying out in anger.”

Sandra said nothing—it was clear that Charlie was one of those witnesses that you had to let tell a story their own way—but she rubbed her temples and began to rifle through her purse for some aspirin.

“…there’s a couple other minor ghosts, too; like the woman in white who lives in the accounting department. She’s the widow of a line-worker who died during Mr. Lurge Sr.’s time. But,” he added, sensing he should come to the point. “The worst of all is the thing we call. . . ‘the Eidolon.’”

He said this peculiar word  with an air of great self-importance, and looked at them, clearly expecting a reaction.

“What’s that?” Venus asked.

”The Eidolon,” Charlie repeated, glancing furtively around, “Is the most horrible, dreadful, scariest, most absolutely evil thing in the whole world.”

A low, ominous rumble from somewhere above them lent weight to the young man’s words.

Cruise shipI’ve never been on a cruise. I probably never will now–I was a germaphobe even before the pandemic hit, and I’m guessing the industry won’t be as popular for the foreseeable future. But for some reason, I’ve always liked stories set aboard ships, and reading this book was a perfect way to take an imaginary cruise in the British Isles.

Sheila and Shane McShane, a couple in their mid-eighties, are worried for their daughter, Shanna, who has gone missing during a cruise. When the cruise ship line and the security forces in her last known stop are unable to locate her, the couple take it upon themselves to find her, retracing their daughter’s steps along the same cruise ship, The Celestial of the Seas.

The couple makes an absolutely wonderful pair of protagonists. Sheila is a gregarious, intuitive person, with a natural gift for reading people. She has a sort of sixth sense for a person’s “aura,” and this more than once helps her figure out people’s motives.

Shane meanwhile is a cool, logical type. An organized and precise engineer who likes everything to run like a well-oiled machine. My kind of guy. Together, they make a perfect match, and the way their skills complement each other, not to mention their easy and obvious affection, makes every step of their adventure a real treat to read.

The book is charmingly funny. One early exchange with a waiter on the ship made me laugh out loud. There are plenty of entertaining crew members and passengers aboard, from the good-hearted and unfairly mis-treated Raoul to the puckish amateur magician, Carson Quick.

Eventually, Sheila and Shane piece together what happened to their daughter, and in so doing are drawn into quite a tangle of sinister events. While the tone of the story is light for the most part, towards the end, there are some moments of legitimate tension. It’s not  ultra-gritty in the way that, say, a Carrie Rubin novel is, but it still felt high-stakes all the same.

In a note at the end, the author mentions that inspiration from the book came from a real-life family cruise. It’s easy to see–the descriptions of the ship, and locales they visit, from Dublin to Ghent, are rendered in great detail, so much so that I felt like I was there, whether “there” was the extravagant ship’s dining room or the gloomy dungeon at Blarney Castle.

This is a really fun mystery, filled with plenty of humor and some fantastic settings. I don’t know if the author is planning to do any more, but I know I’d cheerfully read another Sheila and Shane story.

Hart for AdventureBack in May, I wrote about Vogel’s Scout’s Honor, the first in his sword-and-planet Scout series. Hart for Adventure is a prequel to that series, and it fits in well. It follows Terran scout Gavin Hart, who crash lands on a world that appears deserted, finding only the overgrown ruins of an alien city.

Hart soon finds his way to a mysterious chamber where he is knocked unconscious and reawakens to find the planet around him teeming with life—not all of it friendly, as he soon discovers when he clashes with a marauding warlord and his hordes.

Hart, with his superior technology, quickly gains some allies, who see him as almost God-like. However, even these advantages, survival is no sure thing, especially once Hart uncovers the mind-bending and (not to give away too much) time-bending nature of the peril he faces.

The prose is crisp and the plot is fast-paced. There isn’t too much description—I would have liked a bit more—but there was enough to get an idea of the world where Hart’s swashbuckling adventures take place. 

If you’ve already read some of Vogel’s other Scout books, you’ll have a feel for this: daring good guys, evil bad guys, lots of sword fights and other Edgar Rice Burroughs-esque escapades. Like the other books in the series, it’s an unashamed throwback to that style of fun-loving old-fashioned adventure story. Don’t go in expecting deep, intricate world-building or characters—this is light, breezy reading that makes for perfect sci-fi/fantasy escapism.

This book was shorter than Scout’s Honor—more a sketch than the fully-realized world—but it works well as a prequel to the main series. If you haven’t read the other Scout books, this is a fine introduction to the series. And if you have read them and want more sword-and-planet adventures, this is a perfect way to get your fix.

[NOTE: This review is based on ARC of the book, received from the author.]

TLRFA-4

 

The McIntyre building’s lobby featured a polished faux-marble floor and glossy orange-gold walls ornamented by large, brightly-colored abstract paintings. But while the designs were loud, the lobby itself was quiet, the reception desk empty save for a lone lava lamp. The absence of a chair suggested the vacancy was permanent. The only sounds was the unnerving click of the two detectives’ heels as they walked towards the doors of the magnetic multivator.

“I expected it would be busier,” Venus muttered as the polished door slid open and they entered.

Sandra said nothing. She was mulling over what she would say to McIntyre. One by one, she watched as the numbered lights blinked on and off as they ascended. Finally, they reached the 17th floor and stepped out into a long hallway of deep purplish red. There were no decorative art pieces here, only a series of oil paintings of the McIntyres of yesteryear. Stern men in dark suits, glaring darkly at all who passed by en route to the office of their descendant at the end of the hall. 

The door was open, and Mr. Tobias McIntyre was seated at a large wooden desk, his hands folded neatly in front of him. He was a tall, aristocratic-looking man, with short salt-and-pepper hair and a darker goatee. He wore a pale yellow suit, with a burgundy dress shirt and matching tie. In a chair beside his desk was seated a young woman with short, dark hair, and a pleasant smile, dressed in a teal blouse and skirt.

“Ah, you must be the reporters,” said McIntyre, rising to shake hands. “What a pleasure, what a pleasure.”

After introductions, during which they learned the young woman was Suzanne, his administrative assistant and operations manager, Sandra started off with her questions while Venus took notes.

“What is the number one challenge facing McIntyre’s Mechanicals today?”

“Well, I don’t think of it as a challenge; I think of it as an opportunity, but it’s the same thing it’s been for the last few decades: how to re-position ourselves to continue thriving in a world where military mechanicals are no longer produced. There are lots of opportunities, in fact—civilian uses for mechanicals are being considered at all times, and I’m confident that with our resources, we’re set up well to take advantage.”

“I see. Is there a lot of investment in that area?”

“Ah, there’s a fine question! Well, now, that’s true—getting the necessary capital to start up robot factories has proven a trifle difficult. That said, I’m quite certain we can. After all, unlike some competitors, we are not carnival barkers turning our facilities into venues for dog-and-pony shows. I won’t name any names,” he said with a sly smile.

“Speaking of others in the robotics business… I’m sure you heard about the tragedy at Lurge Robotics.”

“Terrible, yes. My condolences to the family. A great loss for the robot manufacturing, ah, community,” he said, the smile not leaving his face.

“Did you know Mr. Lurge well”

“Only from business connections.  In fact, I bumped into him at a ChamComm meeting just last week; he was more talkative than he had been in quite some time.” He made a strange, guttural noise.  “Come to think of it, he told me he was looking forward to ‘the best October in years”.” McIntyre tried, and failed, to keep the slight twist of a smile from his lips as he said soberly, “Ironic, in light of the subsequent tragedy.”

“Is safety a particular challenge for a de-commissioned facility?”

McIntyre leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Well now, really, ma’am; surely that’s a question better put to the Lurge company. All I can say is that such an accident would be unthinkable at a McIntyre property. We have not a single accident to our name in a long time—not since the Great Robot War of ’57 was at its peak! I can’t speak to the track record of any of our competitors, but. . .” he grinned again. “Can I tell you something off the record?”

Sandra and Venus exchanged a glance. “Sure,” said Sandra.

“This doesn’t leave this room, understand? Good. Then let me just say, any company that tries to profit off of ghost stories on its grounds must not have a very strong track record with safety, you take?”

He chuckled, as did Suzanne. Sandra and Venus nodded politely.

“You mentioned civilian applications of your technology—can you elaborate on that?” Sandra asked.

“The government’s restrictions on the use of robotics technology are very strict,” Venus put in, and then immediately looked abashed at the gaze Sandra shot in her direction.

“Uh, well, yes—of course. That’s-that’s definitely something we consider. I, uh, probably shouldn’t say too much more, actually, other than that there are a lot of exciting things in the pipeline.”

“I see,” Sandra nodded. “So, would you say our readers can look forward to big things from McIntyre’s Mechanicals in the near future?”

“Absolutely! That’s just what I’d tell ‘em. You got it.” He said, with an encouraging fist pump. “Now, uh, I’d love to continue this but I have another appointment coming up. Remind me, Suzanne—what is it again?”

“You have a conference call with prospective clients about bulk orders at 3:30,” she said smartly. 

“Ah, yes, that’s it. Well, it’s been lovely talking to you ladies—do come by again sometime.”

“Actually, I had one more question, Mr. McIntyre. It’s quick,” said Sandra, smiling prettily.

“Oh, well; if it’s quick, how can I say no?”

“I just was wondering how many workers McIntyre’s Mechanicals employs?”

“Um—” he said, biting his lip, but Suzanne quickly interjected, “We employ so many seasonal and temporary workers that it’s hard to give an exact figure. It can depend on the day. However, I can assure you that recent estimates show we contribute millions annually to Gelunbu’s GDP.” She smiled pleasantly, but in a way that said not to ask any more questions.

“Perfect!” said Sandra brightly. “Again, thank you for your time.” She and Venus bade both farewell and returned to the multivator. Once inside, Sandra pressed the button for the lobby level — and for four or five floors in between.

Venus arched her brows quizzically. Sandra just smiled, took some lip gloss from her purse and lightly applied it to her mouth, and waited for the doors to open to floor 14. When they did, the two women looked out at row upon row of empty cubicles. 

At last, after checking a few more floors, each with similar results, they exited the building and walked back towards Sandra’s orange hatchback. 

Sandra laughed, and Venus shook her head. “I don’t think they have any other employees at that company. They have Mr. McIntyre as founder and CEO, and Suzanne is his secretary. They probably make money solely by filing copyright lawsuits on various designs and technologies.”

“ I’ll bet you’re right.  And it was a stroke of genius to check that out. But that still doesn’t help us with the whole did-they-kill-Mr.-Lurge question,” said Venus.

“Indeed it doesn’t,” Max concurred over the speaker in the dashboard.

“Do you have to do that?” Sandra grumbled.

“Don’t you relish hearing my dulcet tones, Sandy?”

Sandy ignored this and powered up the hatchback.

“So, what’s our next stop, Boss?,” Sandra asked.  “The factory, right?” 

“Bingo!” said Max. “I knew you’d feel that way, so I called ahead. The place is closed down of course, but the night watchman on duty the night of Mr. Lurge’s demise will be there. Talk to him.  Check out his alibi. Get an little details that might not have made their way to the police report.  You know — work your magic, Sandra.”

 Venus shook her head.  “You two work so much faster than we did at the FES!”

Sandra answered at once. “Too much for ya? Want me to drop you off and take care of this on my own?”

“No, no; not at all. I love it. Beats all the paperwork and approvals I’m used to.”

“Oh,” said Sandra, feeling rather put out. 

“You see?” Max intoned cheerfully. “You two make a great team!”