Psychos in a lift

She handed me a weapon. One in the chamber, safety on. The others had weapons that they’d obviously taken from Stobo personnel but I’d seen the small automatic pistol that before. It belonged to Cavendish and I was surprised that she’s managed to smuggle it in to the ball. The line of her dress didn’t allow many hiding places.

We caught up with Acre who was securing our position further down the corridor. She glanced at the gun. “Where did that come from?”

“I have no idea.” I said.

“Bet it chafed when you danced, Cavendish.”

“I didn’t see you dancing.” Said Livingston, who had appeared out of a side passage to deal with my escorting marines. “I’d have paid money, especially as she’s wearing heels.”

“Gods in a row, we’re trying to get off a doomed ship. Get a grip.” ordered Cavendish.

“Sorry, Sergeant.” Muttered Acre, grinning unrepentantly. As she reached the next corner she stopped and stepped back behind the bulkhead. As there was no cover, the rest of the Bad Girls dropped to one knee, looking to Acre for instruction. I glanced round to see Cartier facing the way we had come, weapon up, in case we’d entered a trap.

Acre made hand gestures. I knew that, when working with Echo, they sometimes deliberately got them wrong or made up new ones, just to wind her up. This was bona fide. Eight targets, heavy weapons and armour. Fourteen metres. At that range the handguns we were all carrying would be useless.

“What are they guarding?” I whispered to Livingston.

“Main lift shaft.”

“Is there another way?”

“The ship is fifteen decks down and less than thirty metres from the lifts. It’s this or a series of fire fights with heavily armoured Imperial Guards whilst trying to go down the secondary ladders.”

Cavendish was three metres in front of me. She turned and gestured me forward.

“I need you to distract them.”

“If they report in that they’ve found me, won’t that give our position away.”

“We’ll hopefully deal with them before that happens.” She slipped off her shoes and silently led me up to Acre’s position. Acre, like Echo, had been barefoot all night.

“If they’re going to shoot, duck to your right. Don’t use your weapon unless you have to.”

“Understood.” I pushed the pistol into my sash at the small of my back and walked confidently round the corner. I was only a couple of steps down the corridor before muzzles started to rise in my direction.

“As you were, marines.” We were in luck. All the Imperial Guards would have taken up position around the Empress and the security of the Stobo was in the control of the ship’s marines. They would be competent troops but the Bad Girls had the advantage.

As they started to return to parade rest an officer appeared.

“Halt!”

I took two more steps.

“I said, halt! Marines, weapons up!”

They were confused. Clearly the message that they were to capture me had not been passed on to all the marines. The officer knew what he was doing, but most of the others were uncomfortable about pointing weapons at a very senior officer.

“Lieutenant, what do you think you are doing? Don’t you know who I am?”

It didn’t matter what I said, just that their eyes were on me and they weren’t listening for the quiet footsteps behind me. I took as many steps as I dare. Two marines had their weapons trained on me now. I fixed on their eyes and, as they almost closed their eyes in involuntary preparation for firing, I threw myself down to the right. Cavendish and Acre were past me and amongst the marines. The Bad Girls weren’t as fast as Echo but they were much faster and stronger than normal marines. The officer went down first, an elbow smashed into his face. Most of the marines were wearing full body armour and helmets, but some had been dispatched from their barracks with their weapons and varying pieces of equipment. This created opportunities for the Bad Girls. They were in the middle of the marine squad who were afraid to use their weapons for fear of hitting one of their own. In hand to hand combat the armour slowed them down. By the time Livingston joined the melee, three of the opposition marines were down.

In a fight like this I was a liability. Cartier was still rear guard.

“Cartier?”

She looked in my direction and I jerked a thumb at the fight, then raised my pistol to cover the corridor we had just used. “Go!”

She didn’t need telling twice. I focussed on my target area and ignored the noise from behind me, confident that Cavendish would prevent anybody firing a burst at my unprotected back. It felt like an age but, in reality, was only a few seconds until it was over.

“York! Fall back.” I obeyed Cavendish’s command, keeping my weapon up as I backed towards the lift cluster, leapfrogging Cartier and Acre.

Nobody spoke as the lift compartment dropped towards the deck where my ship was docked. If there were marines waiting for us, we would be an easy target. I raised an eyebrow at Cavendish who just shrugged, then returned her eyes to the deck indicator. It took discipline not to watch the numbers changing. The other three marines were focussed on the door, waiting for it to open, weapons up and index finger touching the triggers. Acre and Cartier were on one knee, Livingston pressed against the wall of the compartment. I took up position on the other side. Cavendish stood in the middle, hands behind her back. In her dress, looking unarmed, she looked like a civilian. With luck it would delay the opposition long enough for us to start firing first.

The silence continued until Acre started humming an off key version of a well-known tune. Cartier sniggered.

“Focus.” Muttered Cavendish. “Three, two, one.”

“Ting.” Added Acre.

Do not read this

Twelve chapters down and I still haven't got to within 100 light years of the Clarke. A sub plot I wasn't really expecting has taken over the first part of the book. In theory, I should get on with the real story and cross the vast and unimaginable distances between chapters in the turn of a page.

However, there's so much happening that I want to describe, to colour in the universe that my characters inhabit. And I promised somebody that they could have a cameo which involves a bar fight and a saxophone. Does it move the story on? Not really. The only risk is that it slows everything down and the reader starts to shout 'Get on with it!'

But it's not about the reader. It's my story. Eventually I'll let somebody read it, but it's mine. I'm going to write what I like. I may edit stuff out before I show it to anybody but, then again, I might not.

This is a really boring blog. Sorry.

I think there's going to be violence

“Majesty?” A lieutenant commander entered the compartment with unseemly haste. Two marines followed him through the hatch.
She held up a finger, then waited until he had composed himself. “I will receive your report now, Commander.”
“Majesty, we have picked up multiple ships dropping out of AltSpace.”
“How many?” I asked. He ignored me. If it was more than a handful then it was more than coincidence.
 “The Captain recommends that we leave orbit and disperse the ships.”
“How many ships?” Asked the Empress. This time he answered.
“Twenty three, Majesty.”
“Leave orbit.” I said. “Now!” This was no random event. Either they had come for us or for the Empress.
“Gabriel, as you know, in addition to the Stobo, I have a full squadron of frigates at my disposal. I presume that Captain Ladywood is capable of handling these new arrivals. So many ships must be a fleet of pirates. It’s happened before.”
“Absolutely not. It’s a reconnaissance group.” She looked at me blankly. “There is a destroyer and four heavy cruisers in the system, and they’re looking for the Stobo.” That might not quite be true, but it didn’t matter.
“Captain Ladywood agrees, Majesty.”
“Why now?” She looked at me. “Did you bring them here.”
“No.” I hoped that was true although the end game might be just the same.
“Then it’s a remarkable coincidence.” Commented the Naval Officer. “I have orders to escort Admiral York to his quarters and confine him there. The rest of his crew are being rounded up.” Ladywood clearly thought we were the vanguard and wanted us where we could do no further harm. I would have done the same. I had an idea what had happened but, right now, exploring that wasn’t the priority. I had to avoid being locked in my cabin. If the Empress didn’t act quickly, the warships would be upon us.
“How soon before they arrive at our current position?” I demanded.
“A little over four hours.”
“Esther, you need to leave orbit.”
“Thank you, Gabriel. I think you need to go with the Commander.” I knew she had an implant and could have recorded the names of all her senior officers, but she clearly hadn’t bothered. I was surprised that she had managed to retain the loyalty of her crew for so long.
“Sir, if you will come with me.”
We were in a small compartment one deck above the ball. It had a single hatch and I knew there were four Imperial Guards outside. I couldn’t think of a way to get past them and, even if I did, where would I go? Going with the marines was a better option.
The Stobo’s two marines took up position behind me as I followed the  officer. As we turned a corner, he nearly collided with a woman who had been the ball and was now standing in the passageway. It was Cavendish. The lieutenant commander turned to shout out a warning but his face showed increased alarm as he looked past me. There was a pair of thumps and the clatter of weapons falling to the floor. He reached for his holstered pistol but Cavendish put her hand on his shoulder and spun him round, head-butting him into unconsciousness.
“We need to get off the ship.” Said Cavendish. “Team two are rounding up the crew.”
“I’m surprised you got out of the ballroom.”
“Echo created a diversion. It got us as far as the hatch unnoticed.  After that we had to resort to violence.”
I grimaced. It never sat well, having to fight with other Imperial troops.
Cavendish saw me. “There’s an Imperial destroyer in system. Everybody on the ship is dead, they just don’t know yet. I don’t see why we have to join them."
She was right. I wasn’t sure that it made me feel better but I might not hesitate when we had to fight our way through the ship’s security. She handed me a weapon. One in the chamber, safety on. The others had weapons that they’d obviously taken from Stobo personnel but I’d seen the small automatic pistol that before. It belonged to Cavendish and I was surprised that she’s managed to smuggle it in to the ball. The line of her dress didn’t allow many hiding places.

What killed all the vampires?

The most difficult part of both Echo and Clarke to write is not the characterisation, the plot, the dialogue, the background description. It's the sex.

Sex is big in novels at the moment. I'm sure you've noticed. Every time I go into WHSmith there's somebody brazenly standing in front of the huge 50 Shades section. And it's going to get worse as the massive band wagon rolls into town and bookshops have to clear away all the vampire books to make room.

If you've not read Echo (and why not?), you'll know there's sex. Twice. E winces and skips over those parts, the crowd at work read it aloud in the office, fortunately whilst I'm not there although they tell me about it.

There's an unspoken presumption that sex scenes in books are autobiographical. Hand on heart there are no polka dot pants in the house. I've no idea whether EL James did theoretical or practical research. Thnk what you like but remember it's a novel of fiction :-)

As I've said before, Echo was written with the intention that nobody would ever read it, but it was still very hard to write. And it will be even harder with Clarke because I know that it will have an audience, and a fairly merciless one at that. 

Because everybody is too busy taking the piss, it's almost impossible to get any constructive feedback  about those scenes. I read the first too chapters of 50 Shades and they're terrible, so I can only presume that the sex (page 115 onwards, apparently) is truly badly written as well. Is it possible to write a "good" sex scene, or do writers leave their critical facilities at the door as well?

I've never actually questioned why I left those parts in or what they add to the book, I just wrote them. I suppose that I could leave the scene with the closing of the door.

But where would be the fun in that?

I've been expecting you, Mr Bond

What makes a good villain?

I've been beta reading something recently and one of my constructive criticisms was that the characters I perceived to be the bad guys just didn't cut it for me. Their motivation was around climbing the corporate ladder and getting their own back on people who had spited them previously.

Should a villain be evil? Evil isn't that interesting. True evil is sad little men finding themselves in positions of power and murdering millions of people through the application of bureaucracy. Who was the most evil character in Star Wars. It wasn't Darth Vader, it was Grand Moff Tarkin who blew up an entire world. Nor is evil attractive (to those of us that consider ourselves to be sane).  The moors murderers have been in the news a lot this week and nobody can consider them anything other than abhorrent. 

Do we need a villain? Writing courses talk about the antagonist. The person whose sole purpose in the story is to place barriers in the hero's path and potentially be the source of threat. Does the antagonist need to be a villain. In Echo the main antagonist is trying to kill York and those around him, but their motivation is as much about preservation of the Empire rather than personal gain, spite, underlying character flaw or psychopathic tendencies. If you want to judge, then remember that York is responsible for something in the reason of 50,000 deaths on the nineteen ships destroyed by the Nemesis during the war and Echo cheerfully murders her way through the entire book. In Echo 2 I'm starting to work up a couple of antagonist characters but both are honourable, honest, professional people with great integrity. If the book was written from the point of view of the Realm, they would be the heroes and Echo and York would come across as monsters.

In most books an antagonist of some kind is necessary. Until they're dead/ imprisoned / exiled/ rehabilitated then there's no closure. But I've concluded that they don't need to be evil. They do, however, need to have a clear reason for being the bad guy and, if possible, they need to be interesting.

Cats are optional

The joys of the West Yorkshire Road Car Company

Blogs are like buses. You don't blog for ages and then several ideas come at once. Blogging is different to authoring in that, as I've discovered and many other writers will tell you, just putting words on the page will eventually kick the muse into action and then you can delete all the dross. With a blog, it's different. I try to find something to say reasonably frequently so that I can then tweet about it and, at the moment, each blog/ tweet appears to generate one sale.

I should probably post more stuff from E2. Lots has happened in the last few chapters and it was quite exciting to write. The difficulty is that I need to select a bit that will work out of context. And without giving too much of the story away, after all, I'm looking to you lot to buy the next one. The tax man will eventually be looking for me to make a profit, rather than the UK subsidising Cathy Helms and the US revenue.

An unforeseen consequence of the iPad is that the blogger site doesn't seem to handle it particularly well. Hard returns (does anybody remember typewriters?) and  speech marks just seem to be ignored, so the final product is all bunched up without the dramatic spacing I wanted. Never mind, still think the iPad is the best thing since sliced bread for writers on the move.

Next blog will look at giving your book a title. Hopefully see you then. Single to Aireworth Road, please.

Doing the Tango with Brucie

I'm getting ahead of myself. Although I've just finished chapter 8, I'm starting to think about the end of the process. Book 1 only became "Echo" quite some time after it was finished. Echo herself only become Echo a day or two before hand. Prior to that she'd been called Chorus, after the narrator in some of Shakespeare's plays. At some point over tea one night,  I was persuaded that it wasn't a great name and I changed the names of the three constructs around. Surprisingly I've thought of her as Echo rather than sticking with the name she'd had for the previous twelve months in my head. A day or two later I decided to name the book after my main protagonist.

Throughout the writing the working title of book 1 was Scenario Five.

'Five basic scenarios.’ She ticked them off on her fingers and I noticed that the tip of one was missing. ‘Guard, Hot insertion, Cold insertion, Pursuit and, number Five, everybody’s favourite, Lost contact. Whenever we find whatever it is we’re looking for there are inevitably dark corridors full of traps, xenomorphs, madmen. Danger and destruction.’

At that point the story was basically about the investigation into the loss of contact with a research station. However, as is their want, York's crew get themselves mixed up into a conspiracy that coulddisrobe stability of the Empire itself.

So, whilst book 2 is meant to be about the search for the lost Visionary Ship, the Arthur C Clarke, one of the five ships that carried humans from Old Erth to their new homes, who knows where the story is actually going to go, and I'd be a fool to try and predict it.

It's a bit too soon to start thinking about a title then, isn't it? The working title is "Clarke", but I've taken a fancy to "Outcast". I'm definitely going for a one word title as a theme through the series and currently Outcast is the word for book 2.

I have some concerns. First, that I'll end up tailoring the story around the title rather than the other way round. The other is that I came up with the title after hearing Hey Ya on the radio several times over the course of a couple of days. Not a good reason.

I'm also itching to start work on the cover. I love the work Cathy Helms did for Echo and I've no idea whether she's got any more pictures of Trout Pout and Slap Head or whether we'll have to go with something else as the part that we take through the series. I like themes and it would be good to have something that appears in all, in one form or another.

Of course, I could just write faster so that I can do the title and cover sooner rather than later. But, as a writer, it's as much about the journey as it is the end product. Oh no, I sound like I'm on Strictly (Dancing with the stars for you Yanks). I better stop there before I commit to giving 110%.