Book promo
If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. I reserve the right not to run any submission, if cover, blurb or anything else made me decide not to, at my sole discretion.– SAH
FROM HOLLY CHISM: The Schrödinger Paradox: Entanglement
In the face of extinction, you do what you must, regardless of who stands in the way.
Tom Beadle only volunteered for NASA’s neighborhood watch program when his department said it would maybe help him get tenure.None of them counted on the Neighborhood Watch becoming a mortifying political liability when a malfunctioning probe accidently reveals an asteroid hiding behind the larger outer planets, setting off impact alarms– and politicians looking for blame. When their answer is to defund the Watch program and fire all involved, Tom’s only chance to save the earth is to lie through his teeth and try to deflect the asteroid under cover of harvesting rare not-of-this-earth elements. And even that may not work.
FROM NATHAN C. BRINDLE: An Omnibus of Seasons.
[Please note that this book collects the three Seasons stories previously published individually in e-book format — “Saving The Spring”, “A Midsummer Night’s Hunt”, and “Autumn’s Smile”. There is no new material; this edition is intended only to provide a physical paperback alternative.]
Despite Ragnarok, gods still walk the world.
Odin All-Father still cares for his human children. And at his order, Midgard is protected by four surviving Asgardian “royals” who control the climate: The Queens of Spring and Autumn, and the Kings of Summer and Winter.
Loki the Trickster hates Midgard, wishing it to freeze over and become more Cold Lands. Challenging the King of Winter to single combat, his malignant trickery is responsible for the New Madrid earthquakes in 1811-12, the Year Without a Summer (1816), and the Deep Snow of 1830-31.
Can the other three royals combine their powers to prevent the world from falling into another (and likely permanent) Ice Age?
“Fans of Alma T.C. Boykin and Tom Rogneby will love this short story. It begins as a road trip with a couple of middle-aged snowbirds (well-armed ones) and turns into a fight for life, honor, and the immortal love of a lady as old as time. The plot is delightfully clever, the action fast and furious and you will love the main characters as they forge a new destiny.” — L. Paul, reviewing Saving The Spring.
FROM RUSS HOLMES: Don’t Shoot! I Know Secrets!: A Collection of Stories from my time in Uniform 84-89.
For many people in my life, my military time was a closed book. I realized that they had no clue about large portions of my life. Many of the things I did, saw, and experienced while in the Army were completely alien to them. I started writing out little stories for them to illustrate points or to show them why I was laughing at something.
So, what you have here is a collection of some of my stories strung together in an order as chronologically accurate as I can manage. These memories and stories are based on things I recollect, things that actually happened, things that might have happened, and things that in no way happened but are hilarious to me. Names may or may not have been changed. My goal with this epistle is to entertain and maybe, just maybe, make someone smile with recognition.
FROM KAREN MYERS: King of the May – A Virginian in Elfland (The Hounds of Annwn Book 3)
MORE VALUABLE AS A WEAPON THAN A KINGMAKER, HE MUST MAKE HIS OWN CHOICES TO SECURE THE FUTURE.
George Talbot Traherne, the human huntsman for the Wild Hunt, had hoped to settle into a quiet life with his new family, but it was not to be. Gwyn ap Nudd, Prince of Annwn, has plans to secure his domain in the new world from the overbearing interference of his father Lludd, the King of Britain.
The security of George’s family is bound to that of his overlord, and he vows to help. But when he and his companions stand against Lludd and his allies at court, disaster overturns all their plans and even threatens the Hounds of Annwn themselves.
George and his patron, the antlered god Cernunnos, must survive a subtle attack that undermines them both. Other gods and gods-to-be have taken an interest, but the fae are divided in their allegiances and fear the threat of deadly new powers in their unchanging lives.
George and his companions must save themselves if they are to persuade their potential allies to help. But how can they do so, attacked on so many fronts at once? Will he put his family into greater jeopardy by trying to defend them?
BY DANE COOLIDGE, REVIVED BY D. JASON FLEMING: The Man-Killers: The classic pulp action western
A rapid-fire western of the cow-country of Arizona!
When Hall McIvor of Kentucky rode into this harsh land, his first taste of Arizona hospitality was to be ambushed and threatened with lynching by the Scarborough brothers, for the crime of being “one of the Bassetts”. The fact that he was new to these parts was neither here nor there to them.
Hall didn’t care for feuds, he was here on a mission to end one himself, by means of marrying a girl from a clan his own people had been in feud with for generations. But intrigues, double-games, and hot flying lead would pull him into this one, too, until he finally dealt .45 calibre justice to The Man-Killers!
- This iktaPOP Media edition includes a new introduction giving genre and historical context.
FROM DENTON SALLE: In the Hall of Eternal Music (The Avatar Wizard Book 5)
“With this sword, I can even slay the volkh lordling, were he not hiding behind his dwarven puppet”
Jeremy and Galena traveled with Bolgor to his home city, only to find the legendary city of the dwarves torn apart by politics. What was to be a pleasant visit turned into a struggle against the Dark attempts to corrupt it from within.
The young wizard, his bear-shifter lady, and his dwarven sword brother must find a way to deal with different political parties, monsters, and assassination attempts. They have to find the instigator in a different culture with very different rules. Rules that separate Jeremy from Galena. Among a people many of whom think the volkh are frauds.
And the fall of this city to Darkness would lead to a new reign of terror as its satellite cities fall and a new Dark Empire arises in the North. Only Jeremy and his friends stand in the way of a new age of war and the bloodshed that will bring.
Click above to join Jeremy as he faces the latest challenge of the dark. A challenge that threatens not only those he loves but an entire civilization and perhaps the world. If you like adventures set in a unique magical world, you will love the latest in the Avatar Wizard series.
FROM LIANE ZANE: The Harlequin & The Drangùe (The Elioud Legacy Book 1)
Olivia Markham lives a complicated life. By day, she is a star CIA officer working a cover as a graduate student in Vienna. By night, she is a self-appointed, kick-ass superhero wearing a harlequin’s hood and wielding a wicked bō.
Life is about to get more complicated.
The sexual predator that Olivia tracks one July evening to Vienna’s Stadtpark calls himself Asmodeus, a demon’s name. Olivia doesn’t care what he calls himself. She’s just there to save an innocent young woman. What Olivia doesn’t know is that Asmodeus has followers he calls bogomili after an ancient sect of believers. She suddenly finds herself fighting to save her own life against these vicious, soulless creatures whose mission is to release souls from the bonds of a corrupt world.
Across the Stadtpark another hears Olivia’s battle with the bogomili. He is a drangùe, a powerful warrior with supernatural abilities who is duty bound to save innocents from Asmodeus. This drangùe will stop at nothing to defeat his age-old enemy—even if it means risking everything to bring Olivia into his world. A world in which the drangùe has his own cover identity. He has good reason to distrust this beautiful young woman who hides secrets that could get him killed or worse…. But the drangùe must keep Olivia close in order to stay one step ahead of Asmodeus. The only problem is that the closer he keeps her, the more the drangùe wants to keep Olivia in his life. And that is not part of his long-term battle plans.
FROM MARY CATELLI: The Lion and the Library.
The library holds many marvels. Lena and her betrothed Erion had found things that helped the beleaguered Celestians of the city.
But when the king’s caprice decides to sacrifice Erion to protect himself, Lena can only hope a legend can help her. A legend of just kings. And lions.
FROM HENRY VOGEL: Trouble on Mars: Travis & Trouble Book
I always keep my word. That’s why I’m headed back to Mars for a case. That’s also why the Spiffies – Space Patrol Intelligence Force – came sniffing around my office. I told them to get lost. They told me my case had connections to their search for the Bloodsword, the pirate ship that destroyed my first command and cost me my career in Space Patrol
But my case has roots far older than my six-year quest for vengeance against the Bloodsword. Roots that stretch back to the dawn of Martian civilization.
And Trouble, my partner and lover, is right smack in the middle of it all.
BY CHRISTOPHER WOERNER: We’ve Had Enough
This is what happened this month, is it really something anyone should be proud of? I’m just continuing to track the daily news, trying to analyze it, whatever observations come to mind. The title came to mind very early, we’ve really had enough of this. Our masters are tearing us down any way they can and they obviously have some large events coming up shortly. To be honest, I’m surprised we’ve lasted this long, but their plans aren’t always working out the way they intended. I know what we need to do about this and will continue putting this signal out as long as possible.
The B-side collects the comic strips I did throughout the month, The Struggling.
THIS NEXT ONE IS WITHOUT PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR, WHO DID NOTHING TO MAKE ME LIKE HIM, EXCEPT WRITE A KICKING SERIES. FOR ALL I KNOW HE WOULDN’T ASSOCIATE WITH THE LIKES OF US. STILL A KICKING BOOK A LOT OF US HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR:
FROM ARTHUR MAYOR: Invasion Hustle: Space Station Noir: Book 6
The war that collapsed the Empire is finally here.
The invasion force descends on Station Noir. The leaders in charge of its defense are dead or missing, so it’s up to Gunny and his team to organize a resistance before humanity’s last safe place in the galaxy is wiped away forever.
But a bigger threat is pulling the strings and it’s not finished with Gunny or the Station.
Can Gunny stop the armada, keep his crew safe, and unravel a centuries-old plot before it destroys them all?
If you enjoy non-stop action, interstellar intrigue, and galactic crime you will love Gunny’s thrilling adventures in Invasion Hustle, the 6th and final book of Space Station Noir. Get your copy today!
Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.
So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.
We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.
If you have questions, feel free to ask.
Your writing prompt this week is: Sparkle
According To Hoyt 
Something that shocked me when I sent Talmud on fire was that vampires actually do sparkle.
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You beat me to it! :lol:
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Thank you, you get one point. :D
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“So Wizard, you think you can challenge me in my own stronghold?” the old vampire asked.
“Challenging you is easy once I got past your defenses. As for defeating you, let us see if I can” replied the young wizard as he unleased the sunlight spell.
“Wow!” the apprentice exclaimed. “Vampires do sparkle when destroyed by sunlight!”
Note, minor steal from Christopher Nuttall. :wink:
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Heh, I’m never surprised when she shows up for a vignette, but this one definitely shows a different side of her! Takes place a while back obviously.
“Maybe that wasn’t a complete waste of time. Maybe. You are dismissed, Azahara-chan.”
The young woman bowed to her sensei respectfully before the two of them went their separate ways out of the dojo. As hard as it was to learn the basics of hama from her mother her uncle Kanbei was on a whole other level as an instructor! Still, she had endured training from both her and her father. She would get through this as well.
Her lessons done for the day, Azahara retired to her room and showered. She dressed in a plain Bastetani Royal Marines T-shirt and sweatpants afterwards, having no interest in going into the city even if staying near the dojo wasn’t what Kanbei expected of her. While she could play the ditzy tourist well enough if the mission called for it – she remembered Vincent Austin’s cool expression and Bradley Carter’s wide-eyed fascination at that bar in Bleidabrik – she had little use for the bars and clubs most women her age did. The noise, the obnoxious music, and the pathetic drunks, some trying to get in her pants, some not, all of it was exhausting. That, and she’d really rather not have to explain to Director Carmona why a drunken young man ended up in the hospital ICU with a poisoned stab wound. What could she say? She never took her personal protection lightly.
No, Azahara Espina liked spending her downtime peacefully. She smiled as she reached into a plastic bag and pulled out of a book, giggling as she said “Do not worry, Director. I spent my own money on this!”
Indeed, the kami must have approved of her return to her mother’s homeland as she found the latest few books of her favorite manga in the airport: The Charming Adventures of Magical Ninja Hoshiko! She barely contained a squeal as she opened the book so as to not draw any unneeded attention. Yes, it was meant for girls younger than her. She didn’t care. Hoshiko was one of the big reasons she asked her mother to train her in ninjutsu and why she made a long enchanted scarf a part of her preferred battle attire. Sure, her mother quickly disabused her of the notion that she would shine and sparkle in battle like Hoshiko did fighting the Dark Warlord Daichiro but she had still taken to her training well enough to see it through to the end. Now she was in Yamatai on the Centre’s pesetas learning a difficult art that would make her even more of an asset to His Majesty and Director Carmona while enjoying the fictional adventures of her favorite heroine! Truly, life did not get better than this.
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“No, no. This is too, I don’t know … grim. It needs to glitter, you know, sparkle more.” The editor was faking his sincere concern, I could tell.
Because when I pulled out the pistol full of Holy Water and sprayed him, he reverted into his true form. “Whyyyyyyyyyy?” the minor imp howled.
I smiled. “Because noir never sparkles. Go back to H-ll, and,” I glanced at the remains of his legs, “take those horrible sneakers with you.”
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:lol:
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“Like” button hit. Had there been one, I mean.
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If you get these posts/comments via email, there is a “like” button with the email. :wink:
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Oh, that’s right. SWIDT?
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She turned her face from the river. The sunlight sparkling from it made her vision worse in the shadows. Her gaze passed through the thick shadows, blotting out all sunlight, and then, she frowned. Shadows that seemed to move on their own.
And a pale young woman running before them.
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“What makes you think you turned two Human Girls into Wizards?” Merlin asked.
“Show him girls” Andorra the Elfin Sage said.
The two girls in question held out their arm and wiggled their fingers, from the ends of their finger tips sparkles flew.
“Sparklers, you made two sparklers, for four hundred years we have been trying to teach wizards how to make magic without all the sparkles and fireworks, and you go and make two new ones” Merlin disgustedly said.
“I myself liked all the fireworks” the older human said to the dwarf.
“I know, it added a certain panache to the whole thing, today’s magic is just so blah” the Dwarf replied.
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Be prepared for sappy corniness. It’s coming, in three indigestible portions:
His career in pro ball hadn’t sparkled as much as he’d hoped, but Max took comfort in the fact that his play was solid, he was progressing, and he was paid. So now it was time to make his move. Not on the pitch, but for something much more important.
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“Hey Bopo!” said Max into his wireless. “I’m taking Cari out this weekend. No, a surprise. Yes, you guessed it, and yes, it’s about time. I really want to make an impact. Make it sparkle. Any ideas?”
Max listened, wide eyed. “I never would have thought of that! Thanks, Bopo!”
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Cari gazed enraptured as the airship sailed above the city skyline, electric motors droning almost silently. Max sat next to her; he’d purchased the best seats. “The stars, the city lights,” Cari said. “All sparkling.”
Max pulled a small box from his pocket. Here’s something else that sparkles, he thought.
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If the beeps and boops of an electronic transmission were translated, Jenkins’ lecture to Gwendolyn would have read thusly:
“Bio women wear sparkling jewelry to set themselves apart. You, however, were neither built for that purpose nor were you provided a vanity module. No, visiting a jeweler would be inappropriate.”
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The handkerchief sat in her pocket as they proceeded along. At least, with what the dwarves brought, she could sparkle enough to appear a princess, and demand audience, even with a king. Though perhaps summoning more soldiers would be wiser and quicker, enough to dispense with the sparkle.
It ill befit a princess, to not try courtesy first, Rosaleen told herself. Still less a queen, she remembered, and winced. Princess, perhaps, until she was crowned. If she ever would be crowned. Either here or in her father’s kingdom. At least Maid Maleen had ruled with her prince in due course.
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Yes! Another Space Station Noir! I am positively sparkling with happiness.
Now, to business:
Passepartout had swept the mansion’s front steps and polished the door knocker until it sparkled. The bank’s board members were expected in a few minutes; again he nervously checked the circle of chairs in front of Phileas Fogg’s desk. Detective Fixx, if possible, was more nervous than he and their combined agitation caused Mr. Fogg to raise a quelling eyebrow.
“Do not worry, Passepartout. Detective. We have all the proof we need; be ready on my signal to arrest the vice-chairman. I have no doubt that I will be able to convince the Board that we have the answer to this case.”
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The slope was none too steep, but bare rock in places. Marcus told himself it was wiser to fly where the footing was unsure. No one would see him.
When he landed on the forest floor, thickly covered with dead leaves, water welled on leaves and bark, but never sparkled.
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“What, some fancy sword with emeralds in its hilt?” sneered one looming knight.
“Better yet,” said a lean, red-haired one, “one that sparkles with its own light. That will fit a dainty little lady who does not match the rightful powers of a knight. Weak-willed women should not be knights.”
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Comeuppance looms, perhaps?
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Eventually, alas. She really is much better in defense than offense and ideal off the battle field.
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It’s kind of pretty, in its own way. The sparkle of lights on the horizon, like nighttime heat lightning back home. But these flashes mean we’re going to get hit with a barrage – as the Soldier’s Creed goes, “Oh Lord, for what we are about to receive, deliver us – INCOMING”!
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Being on the receiving end of an artillery barrage sucks. I’d want a very deep hole, with an exit out the other side of the mountain.
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“Stasiu, all the little patches are too obvious – too much sparkle shows. Paint it.”
“That would be ‘spackle’, Zbigniew.”
“Paint it anyway.”
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The case marked “Tarrant Winery” had arrived at Sparta Point that morning, like a peace offering. Or a bribe.
Leonid Gruzinsky watched as Zaza opened the lid. Within were twelve bottles — red, white, still and sparkling — carefully packed with a professional attention to detail. All the corks looked sound, but he’d still prefer to have someone else taste them first, just in case.
Not that he really expected them to have been tampered with, not since he’d done a little research on Klim’s little stray. Lisa Fox’s full name was in fact Fox-Tarrant, and she had grown up on that very winery.
No, she wouldn’t besmirch the family name by tampering with their wine — but someone else might well do so, hoping he would think it was from her.
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The light sparkled off the buildings as the shuttle landed, and ATHENA started subbing James information. Zolan, capital of the Duchy of the same name. Eight archology towers and the Ducal Palace in the center, the network security here is tight . We have a penetration route, but confidence is low, red/yellow. So far, nobody seems to know we’re on planet but that could change quickly.
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“You claim you have to drink that stuff to wake up.” Gort beamed at me.
“Well yeah, it helps.”
“Not working well when you drink that many each day. Why don’t you try this?” he beamed with a sparkle in his eye, as he dropped a mouse in my cup.
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Live mouse, or dead? :-D
I’m not sure which would be worse…
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OT but great news: Dave Freer won the Prometheus Award! Highly recommend Cloud Castles. It skewers bureaucracies, along with other sacred cows, while telling a great story.
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Guess that settles what I’m reading in August.
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Noice! Another one added to the to-buy list. Been meaning to follow up on that one for a while, actually.
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Yes.
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Her eyes glittered dangerously as she looked up from the papers. “Let me get this straight. A mob ripped my clothes off and tried to kill me while you did nothing, and now you want to charge ME with public indecency? As well as assault and murder for defending myself?”
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Hey! No stealing from local newspapers!
Some people’s District Attorneys ….
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It’s a slightly alternate version of San Francisco after some events that didn’t happen in our timeline.
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Sounds like a passage from an Honor Harrington novel.
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“And just to set the record straight, I was very careful not to kill anybody. The mob trampled some of them after I knocked them down, but I am not in any way responsible for crimes committed by my enemies.”
“I could have used much safer means of crowd control, but you placed me under an injunction, forbidding me the use of my ‘infernal devices’ even in self-defense.”
Her sudden grin was savage. “You thought you could entrap me, didn’t you? Force me to violate that asinine injunction to save myself, and then put on a show trial. Well, you were wrong. I told you I’m an elite soldier from a civilization thousands of years more advanced than yours, but you’re too stupid to figure out what that means. A mob of hoodlums armed with bottles, rocks and knives are no match for me, with weapons or without. I doubt even you can deny me the right to defend myself with my bare hands.”
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Good promos today, thanks!
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It looks like D. Jason Fleming loves the Chunk Five font as much as I do. :) And has a much better reason for using it. It’s absolutely perfect for those pulp revival covers.
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Chunk Five Print, I believe, and yes, it fits westerns wonderfully. While I try to “brand” more prolific authors, this is definitely my default western font.
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“Ugh,” said Meghan, “I hate that our couple name is ‘Harkle’. You must go by a different name, Harry.”
“Well, my other given names are Charles…”
“Charkle?” Meghan scoffed.
“… and David.”
“Darkle??” That got an eye roll.
Harry sighed. “My mum was a Spencer.”
Meghan’s eyes lit up. “That’s it!!”
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I don’t know whether to hit you with a carp for that one, or borrow that mouse from Gort.
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THIS NEXT ONE IS WITHOUT PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR, WHO DID NOTHING TO MAKE ME LIKE HIM, EXCEPT WRITE A KICKING SERIES. FOR ALL I KNOW HE WOULDN’T ASSOCIATE WITH THE LIKES OF US. STILL A KICKING BOOK A LOT OF US HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR:
A year ago good story would have been enough. Anymore if you would refuse to refrain from dumping on me, you don’t get my money.
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“Gran’papa, gran’papa, the moon is sparkling! Come see!”
“Tim, you need to be a little quieter inside,” said my daughter and his mother. But Olivia was never one to throw cold-water words at a child, or wield the infamous “hush!” to shut one up fast; it was mere reminder. “And what do you mean… sparkling?”
For all his recent “call me Tim not Timmy” grownup-ness, he was all but dancing in place in his eagerness to share. “Sparkling little red sparks, like when you tease the cats with a laser! Come see, now, quick before it goes away like the red on clouds’ underbellies at sunset!”
And the look she threw at me, with that, chilled my blood a bit. He was so madly enthusiastic about things… but also quite the little observer, even aged at single digits.
“I think we should go look, don’t you, Olivia?” Gave her what I thought was an adequately-normal smile. Though the feeling I had was far too like the few times I’d seen an aurora, strange soft colors as if from some impossible dawn in the north — before I had any clue what it might be.
Eerie. Almost… eldritch.
I took her hand and his and walked a few steps out my door to the patio, under our cold-blue Southwest late-twilight sky.
“See, Gran’papa, sparkling moon!”
And there on the dark, left side of a barely half-full waxing moon, near its highest point tonight, was a bright-red sparkle of what looked exactly like laser dazzle. Like a circular spot on the dark face of our Moon, much foreshortened; the familiar red of a helium-neon laser, or
the newer diode ones of almost the same hue.
Also there was a line of something pinkish, almost white, stabbing out from the middle of all that — a thin short line of light, brightening and lengthening outward ever so slowly as we watched.
“And now the moon has a tail, too; didn’t — wasn’t doin’ that before.”
I looked at Olivia, and she was looking at me. And the silent words her mouth shaped were Madre de Dios.
A chill (or another) ran up and down my spine as I remembered one of the short, innovative prayers she used to write, back in her teenage days as her faith grew from follow-the-leader childish to aggressively and intimately personal.
Mother of God, protect and keep us, You and Your Son. Protect us and keep us as You could not Your own Son, in His unique role and destiny as our teacher and Savior.
Maybe she’d meant it… just that way.
“So, you think it’s a rocket, Pop? Looks like an ablative exhaust plume to me.” Suddenly she was speaking Russian; which wasn’t as starkly odd in our family as it might be in yours. Before there was ever a United States of America, my forebears here were learning English and other tongues, and not to be showoffy or aristocratic. (Though my father insisted if we ever spoke Spanish in his presence, it had to be the purest, best Castilian. Corrections rapidly forthcoming, to all unwary and careless, offered with a scholar’s authority.)
But we could be pretty sure Tim hadn’t got that one, not yet. (In an era where children of any age can get multiple Web sites and ‘apps’ to render their words into any of several dozen languages, and speak them in allegedly-correct accents, take no ignorance for granted.)
“If it is, it’s on the leading edge, firing against the orbital motion. The moon’s near apogee, so it’ll be dropping the perigee, mostly. But not by much; the exhaust velocity and the orbital velocity would both be about a km/sec, it’d take shooting much of the moon out such a jet to make a big change. Nothing much, any time soon…”
“That’s the truth.”
“Pa-angliskiy! Pa-angliskiy, pozhalsta!” said Tim in an atrocious if perfectly comprehensible Russian accent.
I ignored his request we switch to English and went on. “But of course it may not be mostly a rocket exhaust; it might be a drilling beam and its rocket effect, however much or little, only a side effect.”
“Or maybe it’s a reminder we can’t hardly do much of anything, against a tool or weapon like that. Kind of the very soul of ‘dual-use’ there, don’t you think?”
“Maybe we’re just squirrels watching their strip mine start up. Kind of like ‘Roadside Picnic’ but different.”
“The exhaust is awfully bright and… linear. Well collimated. If you dug a pit carefully with ablation, tailored its size as you went, you could make something like a rocket nozzle. Though cutting an underhang to make the first part of the nozzle and the chamber would be… hard. Might need something to keep the throat and nozzle from eroding, too. Something to keep the heat away? Inject something ablative and reflective besides pure vaporized country rock?
“Not exactly something I’ve thought much on, Patrick, except in my spare-est of times.” She smiled ruefully.
(Yes, my name is Patrick, after the former British slave who returned to bring our faith to Ireland. I’ve told you, my line is a bit… odd.)
“Time to take a better look, Olivia. If you’ll help me now once more as you have so many times?”
And we turned to the three-inch refractor in its designated corner of the patio. Since I’m there most of the time these days, and our weather is good so much of the year, I leave it out unless I’m going away or the snow or storms are boding to come; a thin tarp and lens covers do fine.
The easy work of a couple minutes, for ones as practiced as we.
That line of light was still a… line, even in the eyepiece. It was no more, then, than a few miles across. The reddish pattern of laser-dazzle showed as coherent-sparkly as before.
If you let such a beam expand a kilometer, from a start the same size, at that wavelength… its source would be hundreds of millions of miles away from its target, our Moon. Across the Solar System.
The music from Olivia’s smartphone began as she finished her own first look. I always forget the name; it’s the jaunty ‘circus music’ with that long run from down low up to near the top of an organ’s range.
“Ah, sorry, Pop. That’ll be work calling me.” She sounded very serious as she said it. Olivia, who’d started out working on laser fusion at the National Ignition Facility, then moved on to… something else.
I watched her take a little box from her pocket, type something from her text message into it, type something from that back into the ‘phone.
As I watched her read, her face — changed. Though she’d never been in the military, she got that ‘in the service’ look, just that fast.
“Patrick, this is a NAPE-1 event, so I’ll be leaving in the tiltrotor that’s landing over in our field in about ten minutes. You get to hear a bit about this now, you’re about to get a job offer too.
“National And Planetary Emergency Level One… means things. Means we just abrogated all the Test Ban Treaties. Means my project, Skyhunter, is now a go, for Interceptor. You grok ‘Skyhunter’ at all?”
“Hunter in the sky… test bans… you mean, Orion?!?”
“I do mean Bang-Bang. Our high-efficiency U-233 based bombs are about to be tested in Nevada, tonight: pre-dug boreholes, pre-positioned… assets.
“Our prototype drive plates were already at Space-X at the Cape. They’ll be launched on a Super Heavy as soon as our drive bomb designs verify. I’d like to strangle whoever dreamed up that ‘comprehensive test ban’ crap in the first place, but spilt milk now.
“We don’t need a Starship Orbiter; soon as the plates clear the sensible atmosphere they’ll separate from the booster, stand off on a hex matrix of solid-fuel rockets, and go right to nuclear pulse drive. No EMP worries, our bombs are mostly self-shielding, you need prompt gammas for an EMP.
“We might not be able to do spit against these… guys. But we’ve got a fast enough spaceship now (cross your fingers) to get to where that beam’s coming from within a week or two. So we’ll boost, wait, look and see.”
The diamond smile on my daughter’s face was pure, 200-proof Mama Bear.
Not only for her and her family, now, but for all our world.
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