Folklore is publishing... now!

Sitrep:
  I got the manuscript back the other day but I've been nose to the grindstone with Kai's story. Sorry. :)
  I had problems uploading it to Amazon. Hopefully they figured it out. It took all day to get it uploaded and through their system. GRR. I played a lot of solitaire. :P

Anyway...

About:

  A group of ONI operatives test themselves and their new ship by visiting an abandoned station. A carrier is sent out to show the flag in a series of air shows gets far more than they bargained for. A pair of retired bickering veterans have their own version of fishing going on. These are just some of the ten new stories of the Reborn Federation.

 

As soon as each goes live I'll post a link as usual.

 

Book 43! Woot woot!

Edit: Okay, here it is:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07JHJV8CN

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/folklore-chris-hechtl/1129760029;jsessionid=075CC7A003C78C786C5FB51D2F0B3ED7.prodny_store02-atgap14?ean=2940161716564

If some of you are wondering, yes a couple of the stories will have a big impact on things to come.

Folklore Snippet 4

First up, sitrep:

I forgot to mention yesterday that I lost 3 pounds yesterday. I dunno where, (don't say between the ears!) and I'm pretty sure they'll sneak back when I'm not looking, but I'm grateful they are gone. :)

In other news, no sign of anything from Goodlifeguide. Apparently they are out of state on vacation. Oops?

Kai's Story has been expanded to 96 pages and I just finished act I. I'm doing pretty good but slowing down now. I think the sinus headaches from the wind and my allergies are playing a part there.

And finally, the snippet:

The following is at the beginning of Air Show:

Vice Admiral Phil Subert shook his head as he read the latest report. Thetis was about to receive her last draft of personnel. Once they were on board, the Thetis flotilla had a little bit of replenishment to complete and then they'd be on their way.

He didn't like the idea of sending a force in the opposite direction of the front. Oh, he knew about the political reasons and having a warship cruising the sector would be nice to have on call if it was needed. It still rankled a little to send a precious carrier away from where it needed to be.

But, it wasn't up to him. And, Admiral Irons had a point. They needed to show the flag a bit more.

“Almost finished packing, sir?” Barry asked.

“Why? That eager to get rid of me?”

“No, sir. I was just checking in and making conversation,” the A.I. replied.

“Next time try knocking first and asking about the nonexistent weather or something,” the admiral replied tartly. He shook himself as he realized he was coming on a little more forceful than he intended. “Sorry, I'm still working on that.”

“I believe I caught you at a bad time. My apologies, sir.”

“We were both to blame, Commander. Let's not make a habit of it in the future. What's the ETA on my replacement?”

“Her ship has arrived at the jump point. Two and a half days cruise to the base,” the A.I. reported.

“Understood. I guess I should get to that packing then,” the admiral said with a grunt.

-=@=-

Folklore snippet 3

Sitrep:

I've been plugging away on MV4 for a while now, past the half way point when I got to the story Wayne challenged me to write. He and several other people have been on me about writing Shiver Me Timbers as well as more Tau sector stories.
  I had 1 sentence. That was it. 1 seed of a sentence of a vague idea that grew to 10 pages, then to 22. It has now overtaken me. I've pretty much forgotten everything else in the heat of the moment to get the story out.
  Yesterday was 1 such day. I was supposed to post this snippet. Instead I wrote 38 pages and reformatted the Tau story, now renamed Kai's Story into a novella in it's own right. I broke it down into chapters, and finished the first 7 chapters. Yesterday I had to force myself to stop at 61 pages in order to cook dinner and rest. (I was button punchy) I even wrote out the idea for the cover art.
  I was shooting for 100 pages. I figured I'd be lucky if I got that far. But 30 pages were raw blocking.
This morning I just added 10 more pages in roughly an hour. Yipe? Most of it blocking too. 1 page of blocking usually translates into 1-3 pages of finished text.
  So, yeah, I've got a bit more than I bargained for.

On to the snippet!

This one is from Boarding School

Kevin Ramichov looked at the window briefly. There was a slight breeze outside. He didn't care for it; he'd grown up indoors most of his life. But he did sometimes enjoy going outside. He ran a hand through his short raven colored bangs and thought about the platoon marching outside.

Not in blustering weather like now though, he thought, noting the fat drops of rain. He'd much rather see it snow than rain, but they were a month or so out from that sort of storm. Most likely the exercise would be called off. The staff wanted their charges to learn to deal with adversity, but they knew not to push it and let one of their charges get sick or injured.

As a plebe at the Imperial Star Academy, he'd normally be expected to shovel the walk, stand fire watch, and do other menial tasks. But he had something the others lacked, a very high rank. Rank hath it's privileges, he thought with a brief self-satisfying smirk.

Technically, no one should know who he was. As the youngest prince, he should be enrolled under a false name and identity. But his mother had insisted that he have additional around the clock security protection. That had negated any attempt at keeping a low profile.

Which was fine with him. Nathan behind him helped shield him from some of the hazing and excessive demands from the seniors at the academy. Just about everyone was quaking in their boots at the sight of him and for good reason. A single word from him could end their careers or their family's careers.

It gave him a heady feeling to have such power at such a young age. It was his birthright. He intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

His eyes had recently turned to girls as puberty had begun to set in. The school was coed. He had yet to get into the pants of one of the girls at the school despite the rules, but it was only a matter of time. Hell, if he wanted he could probably bed one of the female instructors if he wanted to do so.

Of course his fiancé was at the school as well, which complicated things. Agnes Rico was a sniveling woman; he already detested her, mainly because she sought out his company so often. That usually drove the other girls away. She was also in her awkward period. She was a bit portly, had braces and wore glasses. She tended to snort and giggle a lot. She also had absolutely no sense of style. Sure, they all had to wear a uniform but at least some of the other girls had their uniforms tailored to accent their bodies. And they did nice things with their hair and makeup. Agnes didn't.

He was hoping that his mother would break off the engagement. He didn't want to be saddled with the girl because it was a political necessity. His mother had explained it to him several times, but he still didn't like it.

He'd recently heard that a lot of the navy families were on the decline. Each had taken hits due to the hated Federation. The Rico and Cartwrights had been hit. They hadn't yet been forced out of power in the Admiralty, but some were already whispering it was only a matter of time. One more major loss and either or both family would fall from grace.

Of course, some said the same about his family when he wasn't around to hear or so they thought.

He grimaced in annoyance. It seemed his family was tied to their success. Which meant Agnes would cling even further to him.

There were of course ways to rid himself of her. His mother had made it clear he had to stick to protocol. He couldn't drive her away nor could he find a way for her to suffer a “mischief.” His mother, like some of the other women in his life, could be so trying at times.

He fought a suffering sigh.

One other benefit of being a prince was that he got his own room. Normally the plebes had to share a room with a group of others. He knew some hated it. He enjoyed his room. Nor had he been inspected by the seniors. Only once had he been inspected by an instructor. That instructor had been counseled to never write him up again.

He had five official siblings all told, although two were deceased. Only little Khalia, his ten-year-old sister was a full-blooded sibling.  His eldest siblings had been by another mother. The same for the middle two siblings.

Catherine was the ranking sibling. Miles was missing and presumed dead like Adam. Joseph was a Marine and third in line for the throne. That left him and Khalia.

He knew that each of them had a mark on their back, a target from their other siblings as well as from the various families involved. Each wanted the throne and therefore wanted to prevent others from getting to it first.

He had his doubts about little Khalia. She was too sweet and innocent. He doubted her time in her current boarding school would toughen her up. She'd already made it clear she wasn't interested in a military career. Their mother had agreed.

His easy, almost pleased thoughts began to turn dark as he realized that he was still helpless. Sure he had some power over others and himself, but it was sharply limited. Catherine or Joseph could scheme against him with impunity. They could attack him, and he couldn't retaliate. The same for the ruling families not linked to his mother's.

The only thing keeping them in line was his grandmother. The red queen they called her. No one stepped out of line with her watching their every move. And she was always watching. Her spies were everywhere.

He'd heard about the savage losses against the Federation. They were losing the war no matter what the media was reporting. He could feel the unease in the air sometimes. He was pretty sure his father or grandmother was behind the replacement of the PM too. Up until the Duke and Duchess had died, the dynastic wars had been in something of a truce, or so he'd been told. Now, no one was sure about anything.

There were a lot of calls to pull together in the face of a common enemy. But there were some who were starting to look at the war as an opportunity. The loud ones he knew II had already identified. They might make an example of one or more. He wasn't certain about it though. He'd come to realize there was a difference between someone talking a big game and actually pulling something off.

It was the quiet ones that you had to watch out for. His mind turned to his little sister again.

Unlikely Kevin, he reminded himself.

No, he had three attack vectors to worry about. One, an attack from within, either from another student, an instructor, or his own security detachment. It could come in the form of a direct attack or poison. He'd already had a couple suspicions about accidents he'd endured in the past two years. Nothing serious enough to garner the interest of II, but enough to keep him on guard.

The second vector was external, the thing he had no control over nor much warning if it did come. That could be in the form of a direct assault or a bomb. That was a concern and one reason he preferred to be behind bullet-proof glass and armored walls.

In order to attack him, they'd have to get through the academy's formidable defenses. A concentrated attack had never happened, but it was still possible. More likely someone would try to attack him while he was en route to or from the academy.

The third attack vector was both external and internal but more insidious. It could be an attack on his reputation and slights against him in order to draw him into saying something he shouldn't. He'd learned twice to his chagrin to keep a lid on his temper and mouth. Such attacks could undermine his future, cutting away at his foundation and making it harder for him to grasp the reins of power if he ever had the chance to access them. He hated the backbiting gossip.

It could also mean a way for others to extort something out of him. He'd learned about political exchanges and trading favors when he'd been informed he'd been betrothed to Agnes after all.

He didn't just have to worry about enemies and family but also mock attacks too. His grandmother was notorious for sending someone to test his defenses. Or even letting someone else get close enough to wake him up.

And people think my father is paranoid, he thought with a mental shake of his head.

Paranoid he might be but paranoids had real enemies. If they were smart and paid attention, they had a better chance of living longer.

--///\\\--

Folklore Snippet 2

Okay, still in Bounty Hunter:

Planetary Sheriff Bert Hayden had other things he should be doing, other things than listening to a custom agent worried about a bounty hunter.

She had piqued his interest though. “A fox?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A fox,” the sheriff murmured as he checked the files the agent had sent him. He scanned them, but he recognized her right off. He'd seen her three times before, each time in company with a Neobloodhound. Apparently, she was on her own now though.

“Miss Gomez. I know her. I've seen her work,” he grudgingly admitted. Just to be sure he tapped in an inquiry to the ansible. It only took a moment to get a response back.

He remembered her though. It had been years since she'd been in his jurisdiction. Traveling bounty hunters were a rarity. Most who did something like that didn't do it as a straight-up profession.

He'd come into law enforcement more or less to find a career. That had evolved a bit as he'd found he'd loved the job. It wasn't the sense of power as much as the sense of justice that went with it and the respect he got from most of the law abiding people.

He was getting up there in years despite the newfangled medical tech Gaston had available. Bonny was perfectly happy with him as the planetary sheriff. It meant he had dozens of deputies, and he spent most of his time with his ass firmly planted in an office chair these days. He wasn't out getting shot at, which she feared.

He'd muttered a few times about retiring, and she'd put that down. Her acidic response to him sitting around cluttering up her house was still amusing and treasured by him.

“Sir?”

“Sorry,” the sheriff replied. “What was the question?”

“What do we do with her? She's got weapons, but really, she's a civilian.”

“I know. And I know her profession has a bad rap. But she has a way of getting results.”

“I see, sir. Well, if you say she's legit, sir, we'll let her go.”

“She is. I remember her. I just checked the ansible. She's a bounty hunter all right,” the sheriff drawled. “I'm curious about what she can do here. We've exhausted all our leads. She's got a good reputation though.”

“Yes, sir.”

Look into why she was there and check the backlog of reports ton find out about the predator she was tracking from New Texas. “Well, well, well. Ain't that interustin’,” he drawled. He sat up abruptly as he started to make connections with cases he'd seen. All cold cases all scattered around the planet. But they shared a few similarities.

“Ruffus, I think ya'll better come in here. We need to have another look-see over a few of the older cases …”

“Ah, sir?” the custom agent asked.

“Not you. Yeah, let her go. Tell her if she wants to see our want sheets and work here on my planet she needs to talk to me though.”

“Yes, sir. Will do,” the agent said before he hung up.

<(>^<(>

“You are free to leave,” the agent said bluntly as he came into the room. She flicked her ears to him. Despite the sound proofing, she'd picked up some conversations outside of the small office slash interrogation room they'd left her to cool her heels in.

“That was an hour. What gives?”

“The planetary sheriff was in his office, surprisingly. I got him right off. He said to tell you that if you want to see our want sheets or work on the planet you need to check in with him first.”

“Huh,” she said as she rose slowly. She'd sat for an hour in a rather uncomfortable human style chair. It had exactly zero padding and was made to make someone squirm and want to give up their secrets to just get away from it. It was positively evil. She loved it.

“I'll let him know but I don't know if I'll be doin’ much,” she said, tipping her hat back.

“Since you missed the bus to the capital, I got a list of motels for you as well,” he said, holding up a printed list.

“Well, I thank you right kindly,” she said, taking the list from him. “I usually try to find a place out of the way,” she said.

“Keep a low profile so you don't spook your perps. Got it,” he said with a nod.

She turned a sharp look on him but he'd already turned and was halfway out the door. “You coming, ma'am?” he called back.

“Just a minute,” she grumbled, gathering her bags up once more.

<(>^<(>

Folklore snippet 1

Sitrep:
  Okay, so, I was supposed to post snippets when I sent Folkore off to Rea Monday. One thing led to another and ... oops?
  ...And she sent it back to me too the other day. And yeah, I've again had one thing lead to another and I haven't opened it yet. (procrastinate much Chris? Answer: sorta. I'm multitasking, browning out, and okay, making excuses for myself.) Ouch.
I'll be sending it to Goodlifeguide sometime this weekend.

  In other news, I am progressing with Multiverse 4. I've completed 5 stories and I'm working on the 6th now. There will be 9 to 10 total like Folklore. Six of those stories will be in the Federation universe.

  As far as print projects go, I'm enjoying my CR10 S4 for the most part. I am printing a major project, one that is starting to slowly come together. I have had some warp issues, and I miss printing in ABS from time to time. But I like that it can print big scale objects. Expect me to print something big and Federation related in the future. :) (Jethro's bust maybe? lol I don't know if I have the room!)

  In family matters, I'm sorely tempted to start wringing some necks. Apparently my brother-in-law, and the nephews started their Christmas lists a tad early! Say, August? That got my sister going with her niece to start in about Thanksgiving last month. Yes, September. Thanksgiving. Plotting Thanksgiving in September! I host it every year. I do the cleaning, (including carpet cleaning) set up, appetizers, cooking, delivery to the table, cleaning, desert, and then more cleaning afterward. (Yes Mercedes, you are learning to help cook, I'll give you that much.) Yet they were plotting decorations, menus, and such. And they still are since they are tired of my basic affair. (2 fried turkeys, potatoes, veggies, and butternut squash among other things) They've gone out of their way to buy decorations last month and are now plotting to come over to my house to decorate with them in the first week of November. Ugh.
  They've got some of the family going on about wanting home cooked/baked food. GRR.
  I don't even want to think about how my hands will feel after peeling 10 pounds of potatoes and 2 butternut squashes! Oops, just did.
  As if that wasn't enough, on Sunday, my darling sister in her infinite wisdom decided hey, it would be a good idea for us to put my tree up on Thanksgiving. (yeah, I have an old artificial one. Done right it is beautiful. People can't tell it's fake. Seriously! Not kidding here!) And... "we can trim it while you are cooking since everyone is going to be there." (that is usually a separate event on the first weekend of December) GRR. (she's lucky she wasn't here when she passed that little idea on.) I put the kyboshes to that but they are now talking about doing it Black Friday or that weekend, along with hanging my lights and stuff. GRR. I usually spend the weekend cleaning and resting while lightly decorating. :P
  Then she started dropping hints about Christmas shopping, and last night she tried to send me her Christmas list. This morning she remembered to attach it to the email. Sigh.
   For the record, I put the lights up, (sometimes with help) I put the decorations up, and I put the tree up. Then we have family over to trim the tree with hot chocolate, snacks, pie, music and such.
   Look, I get it, I do, we all love the season (or some of us do) And with the crap going on, some of us want to feel that positive spirit again. I love it most of the time, (I may be agnostic but I am a Santa and Xmas light nut!) but when it gets pushed like this I get a tad testy and get holiday fatigue real quick.
   Don't get me started on my reindeer project. They've been on my rump about that for months!

  So, now you know why I don't like to write during the holidays. The distractions drive me balmy! (okay, more than I already am but just saying!) If you see people walking around with strange throttle marks on their neck, don't be surprised!

  Rant over, on to the snippet! And now I do need to open what Rea sent me. Hang on a sec...
Okay, I'm going to post 1 snippet or 2 from each story a day until Goodlifeguide gets it back to me.

The following is from Bounty Hunter:

Hester Michelle Gomez stepped to the hatch and raised her long muzzle to the air for a good sniff. She got the usual scent crap a Spaceport generated, but she thought she detected a faint scent, one she'd been hunting for a long time.

This is it. This is the place, she thought. It had to be. Her ship was the last ship to visit after the ship she was chasing. She was sure he was here. He'd been cooped up on the ship too long not to have gotten off here. He had an itch and he'd want to scratch it, she thought in disgusted anger.

As she looked around, she saw the city lights and people—lots of people. People for her perp to prey on and to blend in with. Yeah, he was most likely here, but she still needed to check the passenger logs of the last ship to be sure.

She stepped down the stairs and then followed the group as they made their way to the distant customs building. She hated that but was more or less resigned to it. She turned at a sound of a vehicle and watched a luggage train pass them. A piece of luggage popped off, and the truck stopped. The guy got out, shook his head in disgust and then picked the piece up and stuffed it back in carelessly. She winced but kept on trudging to the building.

“At least it's not mine,” she muttered under her breath.

<(>^<(>

Hester waited patiently as the line wound its way through customs. Each person had to be checked, their reason for being there, their luggage, the works. It was far more thorough a check than any she'd seen before. Apparently, they'd gotten new toys and were eager to put them to use.

That wasn't really fair; they were close to the capital and Pyrax so of course they were getting good trade and new tech. And with the pirates trying to get people behind the lines to wreak havoc, she could understand the need for a few precautions. She just wished they'd asked the right questions and kept her perp from getting in.

But then again, their screwup was her way to profit from it. Hopefully, the bastard hadn't had too much time to set up shop, she thought blackly. He had about a three-month head start on her if she was right about the timing.

“Ma'am?” the agent said, cutting her thought train off. “Miss Gomez?”

“What?” She looked up. “Yes, that's me,” she said, flicking her ears and then her tail.

“I'm afraid we need to do a bit more thorough check with you. You've got weapons in your luggage,” he said.

That earned her some nervous looks from her former fellow passengers and some dubious looks from the freighter crew who'd come down on liberty.

“All legit,” she said. She had to show the agent her ID and her Federal license to carry the weapons. Most were non-lethal of course. Getting the damn license had been a pain in the ass and one more incentive to retire.

She knew that bringing weapons onto any planet tended to perk the interest of the local LEOs. One by one they checked her weapons. She had to explain where she got them, when she last fired them, the works.

So much for keeping them in the checked baggage to avoid complications, she thought in annoyance. “I know your heart is in the right place but this is getting a tad tedious,” she drawled. “And we're holding up the works,” she said, indicating the group with the bus outside the glass walls.

“We're just being thorough. You can never be too careful about who you let in—especially with the pirates acting as saboteurs, ma'am.”

She nodded once but didn't look at him. Instead her eyes were on her gear. All of her gear was there, strewn about. It offended her to see it like that. “Not very neighborly but I get the idea you don't want the wrong sort around,” she drawled as she checked her gear.

“No, ma'am. Staying long?”

“Was that your way of hinting I might be the wrong kind?” she asked, clearly amused as she flicked her ears at him. He looked down briefly and then met her eyes. “I won't be long. Just long enough to catch a few baddies and then move on.”

“I think you'll find things have changed here, lady. We've got better tech. Modern police tech,” the official replied with a sniff. Under her keen eyes, he had made sure nothing had went astray in the search, not even the bottle of hooch she had. It still had the labels on it, so he'd been forced to leave it alone and not confiscate it. She'd paid the fine for importing liquor and had even listed it in her luggage so he couldn't complain there either.

“Well, do you now?” she drawled. “Then I guess I won't be staying here long after all. We'll see,” she said as she hefted her bags. “Where to the nearest motel? I need to drop my gear off and eat before I check in with the sheriff's office. Unless you still post the wanted ads in the post office?”

“We do but they are out of date. These days we've got computer databases. And we've got DNA checkers, facial recognition programs, and the works. You may be out of a job,” the official replied with a shrug.

“Maybe. Then again, maybe not,” she replied as she walked out.

“Just a minute miss. We need to run you past the sheriff. So why don't you just wait while I put a call in,” the head agent said, putting a hand up and then waving to an office.

She sighed and then went into the indicated room.

“Just have yourself a seat and we'll be with you in a jiffy,” he said as he closed the door.

“Yeah, right,” she drawled. She heard him tell the bus driver to go and then sighed. “Great, just what I need,” she muttered as her stomach growled.

<(>^<(>