I still don't think I've got it polished to where I'm 100% satisfied with it, but it's getting there. First draft, and fleshing the scene out, is done so cutting words, etc will be next once I finish the complete revision/rewrite/editing of the entire novel. I'm satisfied with the scenes though. Hell, I've just decided to post most of the scene. CAUTION FOR STRONG LANGUAGE. “Ah, you’re awake.” “What…happened to me?” The nurse stood, close enough to touch, and looked at her computer. “It’ll be ok,” she said, “Everything will be explained in time.” She reached out, the move frighteningly fast, and grabbed the woman’s wrist. “What happened to me?” The nurse set the computer down, reached over, and tried to pry Kate’s fingers from her wrist. “If you let go, I can get someone to talk to you.” “No,” Kate squeezed her wrist, “I…” The nurse screamed, a high pitched wail of pain, as her wrist snapped, the crack sounding like a rifle shot in the quiet room. She let go of the other woman, staring at her arm and hand, fear starting rise again as she opened and closed her mouth. Kate sucked in a breath, what the hell just happened? She ripped the covers off, exposing pasty white legs, as medical staff rushed into the room. None of this was right; her body didn’t look like this. Who were these people, and what the hell had they done to her? What had they done?? A doctor reached for her, and she shoved him away, nothing more then a simple push. The man flew across the room, a cry making her wince, and he hit the floor, sliding across the smooth surface to hit the far wall. She alternated between looking at her body, then the doctors, and a rush of emotion started to overcome the rational portion of her brain. Fear, combined with rage, built into a chorus, a crescendo with an unpredictable climax. Kate bent her head, sobs wracking her body, but tears wouldn’t flow. “What did you do? What the fuck did you do?” she shrugged off another nurse who tried to approach. “Why can’t I cry? Why! Why!” “Doctor Matthews to room one four, STAT!” Kate rolled over, trying to stand up, and fell off the bed instead. She landed, face first, the impact jarring, biting her tongue hard, and the lack of pain startled her even more. What the fuck? Where’s the blood? There should’ve been a ton after biting down so hard! The floor felt cold, freezing actually, against her skin and she tried to push herself up but couldn’t make it onto her hands and knees. What the fuck had the bastards done to her? Nothing worked and they’d better not keep claiming everything would be ok! How could that be when she couldn’t even stand up for God’s sake? A second doctor approached, reaching for her, and fear erupted inside her, the geyser of emotion no longer containable. She screamed, a heart wrenching combination of fear and sadness, which caused the medical team to back off. They’d seen many reactions during the testing phase, but nothing like this before, and it paralyzed them into inaction. Kate clawed at the floor, pulling herself across the floor, each handhold a struggle to achieve, and tried to reach the safety under the bed. She might not being able to stand, but getting under the bed would make things difficult as hell for the bastards to reach her. The bed had two legs, each one with roller wheels on the bottom, which left a tight space between the wall and closest leg. They might be able to move the bed, but she wouldn’t allow them to have an easy go at corralling her. Assholes. She wedged herself into the space, somehow managing to pull both legs tight to her chest, and looked back at the doctors with wide eyes. The first doctor, shaking himself out of the paralysis, came over and dropped to his knees, and reached for her. Kate grabbed his arm, and flung the man as hard as she could, which sent him flying across the room. He slammed into the far wall, slid to the ground, and lay there moaning. The tight confines felt safe, somewhere she could hide, and secure enough that Kate let her emotions flow uncontrollably. Sobs, from deep down in the place where a woman hides her deepest fears, racked her body, each one stronger then the last, but tears wouldn’t come. She sat, in an upright fetal position, and rocked herself back and forth. Screams soon replaced the sobs, grief and rage building up by the second, and she verbally lashed out at the people standing a short distance away. “What did you do to me? You bastards! You did this! What did you do!!” The words broke off, replaced by more sobs.
There's a lot of posts about how to run your plot, and how to plan it, and anything from outlines to, as some writers I know do, writing from the end forwards. Each has it's merits, but sometimes I feel writers get too hung up on things. I never have an idea how my novels will end. Kate'll tell me something small, a whispered thought or an action she's done, and the rest kind of falls into place fairly quickly. I'll also admit to not knowing how the two novels I've finished were going to end until three quarters through them. So, with all that said, don't be afraid if you don't know exactly where, or how, your story will end. Just start telling the tale, and let your character carry it to the end. He or she will tell you how the things went because it's their life you're writing. To you, the author, it seems something fresh and new, but to the character, it's already happened and is in their past. Try to be in tune with what he or she is saying to keep things moving. Point of View, or POV, is a tricky thing for most new writers to get a grasp on. What it means, in a nutshell, is who's eyes are you seeing the story through. When we go through life, we see things and interpret things different then the person beside us. That's because we see things from our Point of View. Characters do the same thing, and it's an important part of story telling. I tend to try to keep at least two thirds of my story in my MC's POV exclusively. If it's a story where you need to have interaction with the villian, then I use page breaks. (go down 5-6 lines from my last paragraph, then go ###, then another 5-6 lines) and start in his or her viewpoint. Ideally, when working POV, things should only be seen/heard and thought about during their experiences. My writing tends to be running thoughts of my MC, and that's done to keep things in her viewpoint exclusively, but I do it for other characters too when it's their POV. One POV at a time is less confusing to the reader, and easier for a beginning writer to master.
Sometimes in a character's life or development, things need to happen that are mean and/or cruel to allow them to experience a real life. We all have suffered through mean and cruel things in our lives, which have developed us into the people we are, and the same for them. I know it sounds weird, but Kate tells me her entire life as I write her story, and it's interesting to listen to. The amount of mean things that have happened to her is simply amazing, but the character is so vivid from that. Stephen King likes to say "Kill your darlings, kill your darlings even when it breaks your egocentric writers heart." He meant for cutting and editing your novels, but I tend to use that philosophy in a different light. To me, and it's just an opinion and we all know what they say about that, I take it as poetic license to throw rough, and mean items into a character's life. I have one scene, near the beginning of a pursuit time, when Kate slips and rolls down a muddy bank and lands face down in the nasty mud at the bottom. Full of vegetation and animal carcasses, and foul smelling, the scene just pushes her into another corner to climb out of. Throw in a brand new 300 credit (dollars) outfit, which got ruined, and you can see how things worked. Don't be afraid to think of, or discover a major twist, or painful event, for their lives, but keep it to yourself while writing it. Once it's all said and done, and everything's on paper, then you can or can't tell if you choose. I tend to keep to the Stephen Moffatt school of writing. As the lead writer and executive producer of Dr Who, he's admitted that he lies when it comes to things he's writing about in story arcs and episodes. Jenna Louise Coleman's surprise appearance on the first episode comes to mind. Which also is fun to see how he slips out of the supposedly "painted corner." So don't be afraid of hurting a character. And I only have one rule myself, and it may not work for everyone but here it is: 1. I always lie. No straight answers on twists and turns coming down the road to anyone, or I'll send them down the rabbit hole. And do it all cheerfully all the way. For anyone who's a Dr. Who fan, keep this in mind too: 1. Moffatt always lies.
According to the Department of Education, 79% of 8th graders aren't proficient in reading, which means they cannot read to their grade level. 80% aren't proficient in math. These aren't isolated stats, the numbers might be lower, around 50% but they're consistent country wide. It tasks us, as writers, to make sure we keep our books written somewhere in the middle because there are people, even if their reading skills are below par, who will want to read. According to the nces.ed.gov website's nations report on reading, not a single state. ZERO STATES reached proficient level. 34 reached basic and 14 were below basic. Interesting data. And saddening.
I looked back at my blogs and realized I finished the first novel of this series on 7-27. I just finished the second one tonight with 89.6k in the rough draft, in less then two months. No wonder I feel brain drained right now. Time to sleep, rest my brain, and start editing the first novel. CK
Well I just finished Die Another Day (working title only) just now and it checks in at 89.6k words. Phoenix Rising checked in at 90.1k so I'm satisfied with them both now. Time to edit PR and let DaD sit and rest. CK
As I write, and weave Kate's back story in, I, and not to toot my own horn either because I hate doing that, have started to realize how ahead of my time I was. I've read "The Hunger Games" and seen the movie, and the "games" were something, albeit with actual gladiators and teams, I thought of while in seventh grade, back in 1986. Now, they'll always be the comments that I "ripped off" Suzanne Collins and in reality it's something I've had in the head for the longest time without the skills developed to put it on paper. So it's funny how things work out, for good or bad, but you plunge forwards, make you writing the best it can be. Once that's done, then you can worry about the rest. My advice to people continues to be the same: read the 50 best novels of all time, see how they work, create your own style and then write like mad. There's no real magic bullet to being a writer, it's 100% perspiration along with your inspiration.
Along with this site, find a group, preferably a closed, password required entrance one to protect your ideas, within the genre you're writing in to join. Iron sharpens iron, and you can work with people who write the same things, and there's information and viewpoints to be gleaned. The sci fi group I'm in has a man, John Bowers, who's a finalist in the most recent L.Ron Hubbard "Writer's of the future" which is a very prestigious competition to be a finalist in. Plus, you'll find little things that help you make that big jump. Mine was when we did active/action openings and ended up trailing only the 3 published authors. It was like: HEY! I CAN DO THIS WELL TOO! With that confidence, my writing grew stronger, flowing better by not being afraid to write long sentences instead of 2-3 and make it flow. Confidence builds confidence and now I'm writing like a fiend. Have put 30k onto my laptop in 3 weeks. Always looks for all tools that will help you improve.
Just finished my first novel at a level to be published. The feeling of accomplishment is awesome. Nothing matches the feeling on gets from finishing a novel you know is good. Now onto writing a novella to fill in the gap between this novel and it's sequel while the novel rests. 2-3 weeks from now, I'll start the editing process.
“Damn it!” Kate shouted over the noise of guns firing and bullets whizzing through the air. “Not these things again!!” “What the hell are those things?” Loving asked she pushed a new magazine into the grip of her Glock and then pulled the slide back to chamber the first round. “Phosphor bullets,” Kate said as she pulled her Glock out and rolled across the ground to lean up against a tree trunk, which protected her from the flying bullets. “The only thing that can kill me!” She leaned out and fired several times at the closet man. The nine-millimeter jacketed hollow point tore into his clothing, through the skin underneath, and blew four inches of his spine to jelly. A slight kick, one, two, three times and another man took a round to the chest and went down hard. “We need to move,” Loving shouted as she returned fire. “They’re not trying to advance! This is to keep us occupied!” Kate dropped another man and kicked herself for not figuring out what Loving had seen. Of course they wanted to keep them distracted; it’d allow any of the skin suits to make it onto scene and finish the damn job! The hell with it! It was time to go on the offense, and quit being on defense! Koch had kept her on defense from the very beginning and now it was time to turn the tables. “Cover me!” Kate shouted to Loving, who nodded in response. Loving started to blast away with her pistol, the hail of bullets pushing the man backwards, away from their dead, and towards where the shuttle hovered. Kate took advantage of their retreat and rolled into the clear and sprinted across the woods, which made the men gather themselves back up and return fire. Kate raced towards her target, a machine gun lying by one of the dead men, bullets nipping at her heel. It would be close, very close, as to whether she’d made the gun before the man shot her, but she leapt for it. A soldier stepped out from behind a tree, raised his gun, and started to take a bead on her. This was it, the end of the line; she’d die before ever reaching the weapon. A Glock sounded off in the night, it’s crack unmistakable from the other weapons, the bullets passing close enough to her head that she could hear them ripping through the air. The soldier staggered, chest erupting in a red explosion, his blood spraying over Kate’s face, up her nose, in her eyes. She hit the ground, grabbed the gun, and rolled into a runner’s crouch, weapon coming up. The machine gun kicked against her shoulder as phosphor bullets erupted from its barrel. Soldiers scattered, projectiles in pursuit but none of then could avoid the hot, burning hand from Hell that reached out for them. Men dropped as the white-hot shells blasted through them, destroying organs and cauterizing the wounds at the same time. Kate rolled to her feet and shot the last man in the back and he screamed once before dropping onto his face. Overhead, the turbines started to whine as they revved up to push the shuttle away from the killing field. They thought they’d get away? Oh no, it wasn't going to be that easy! She scooped up another rifle and raced towards the opening in the tree cover the soldiers had dropped down through. Overhead, the shuttle had turned towards the nearby SAM launched and started to move away. Kate aimed at the flying craft and pulled the automatic weapon’s trigger. Phosphor rounds, their path tracked by the red tracer’s the hot rounds made, chewed into the shuttle’s hull. They started at the cockpit and moved down the body as the forward movement carried it away. Fires and muffled explosions started inside the craft as it started to fly out of control. A tongue of flame spit out the engines and the shuttle nosed for the ground. “Down!” Kate screamed as she raced across and hurdled over the log they’d used for cover. The shuttle hit the ground out of sight and an explosion temporarily turned the night to day. A second, even larger blast followed the first, the force of it causing the very ground to rattle, and a massive ball of flame rose into the sky. Kate covered her face with a hand as the mushroom cloud rose up into the night sky. “The SAM launcher!” Loving screamed as another explosion light up the sky, it’s roar nearly blotting out her voice. Kate laid on her stomach as more, albeit smaller in intensity, explosions continued to rack the area. Of course, she’d forgotten about the missile launcher being nearby. That’d explained everything! The shuttle had crashed into the battery and exploded, which then caused the second, massive, detonation followed by the remaining munitions cooking off. Kate rolled onto her back and started to laugh uncontrollably. She’d kill to see the look on Koch’s smug face now! The arrogant bastard thought he had it all wrapped up! This had to have gotten his attention in a big way.
Jennifer’s breath howled in her ears as she ran down the river, shin deep at that point, each step splashing more freezing cold water onto her soaked fatigues. Behind her, in the distance but closing, were four men, their flashlights bouncing as they ran. How could things have gone from quiet to running for her life AGAIN? Things had been quiet, and she’d moved past another suit and four patrols, until fifteen minutes ago when two men stumbled upon her. The resulting firefight would’ve rivaled a holovid in its ferocity and speed with which everything happened. In less then two seconds, both men were dead and blood ran down her arm from being winged by a 14 millimeter round. God her arm hurt, every step making it throb in agony. Jennifer had been through a lot on the farm, broken bones, torn ligaments and they all had hurt, but nothing like the pain coming from where the bullet had torn through the upper layer of skin. A bloody, red line marked the path the hollow point had followed on its brief, but potentially deadly flight. She kept up the pace, her long legs driving like pistons, steadily pushing her further, but they were starting to burn with that deep muscular burn that came form long exertion. The man pursuing were starting to drop back by the second, and that sent shivers down her spine as a awful realization crossed Jennifer’s brain: they were herding her, using pressure to force her towards their goal, which probably was the warm, loving arms of a skin suit. What am I doing here? I could’ve stayed home on the farm, rode horses, herded the cattle, and had a quiet peaceful life. But no, Jennifer, you wanted to see the galaxy! Hope you enjoyed it, because there won’t be anymore. A large, dark shape strode across the river and stopped before illuminating itself. Jennifer slid to a stop and looked up at the skin suit, and it’s operator behind ballistic resistant glass. The man looked at her like a person would an ant and sneered, the hateful action tugging one corner of his scarred mouth up to look borderline demonic. She sucked in a deep breath and looked at the water for several seconds as blood dripped from underneath her coat and into the clear water, to be absorbed and washed away like tears in the rain. Anger started to build up inside her and she looked at the operator and shook a fist. “What are you waiting for, asshole! Do it! Do it!” The men in pursuit stopped several hundred meters behind her to avoid being killed by friendly fire and she could hear them talking amongst themselves about how easy it had been to run her into the arms of the waiting tank. Microphones inside the suit allowed the operator to hear the conversation as he started to raise the machine’s right arm… And all hell broke loose.
As I near the completion of any novel, I put up random snippets on my blog. These are raw first draft pieces in the fact that when I make a first draft, I'm not necessarily checking my grammar b/c I use White Smoke to do that in the final cut. A first cut to me is about making sure I spell things right and get them onto the page. First edit makes sure wrong words aren't there from where I type fairly quickly along with rewriting scenes, etc. The purpose of this post? It's to let everyone know there isn't a need to be grammar police, etc, because it will be settled in the wash. CK
“I wasn’t referring to a star system,” Reyes knelt down and examined the young woman’s body. “It was a clandestine program funded and operated by me. “Nine children. We modified their DNA,” he continued, “A specific blend of traits one of our scientists came up with. They had faster reflexes, stronger muscles, and greater stamina. However, all but one died in their mid teens. Each suffered either mental instability leading to suicide or were struck down by an illness no one had seen before-much less treated. “This girl, Kate Almir, is the only one left. She survived ‘til Ferini’s dumb ass guards tried to kill her. The single delta nine survivor, Doctor. THAT is why I want her saved.” “How did she end up on Necko if she were part of your experiment, Admiral?” Matthews chewed on the end of his pen again. The soft hum of the stasis chamber was the only sound in the room. “Because I controlled her entire life,” Reyes looked straight at Almir’s face. “And now she’s back with us.” “At what cost?” Matthews asked. “I’m willing to bet her psyche profile is way off what we need.” “Maybe,” Reyes shrugged, “But she’s tough enough to handle what you can do to rebuild her.” Matthews sighed at the last comment. It was obvious to him that Reyes had made up his mind and there wasn’t a chance of changing it. He just hoped the Admiral knew what he was doing. We have one body built right now. I hope it isn’t wasted. “Doctor,” Reyes stood up. “I want you to prepare your team for the procedure. I want this handled quick as possible.” “I want to log a formal protest to this, Admiral,” “Noted,” Reyes said. “But I have fifty million credits of black book funding into this and will spend it how I see fit. Prepare for the procedure.” Reyes stepped into the observation gallery and pulled up a chair. He lit a cigarette and looked down at the operating room below. Matthews was a genius with cybernetics, but he needed to learn how to follow orders. Almir was a special case. He remembered when she was born and had stood in front of her incubator during the first week of her life. How she had been the only one of the nine to survive, he didn’t know; but the time on Neco kwould have hardened her and prepared her for what lie ahead. He looked down at Matthews as they removed Almir’s brain and placed it into the cybernetic body. It had taken 12 hours to fabricate a head, and face, to was identical to the one she had worn before. Things would still be touch and go when the young woman awoke but at least she would recognize herself. Reyes crushed out another cigarette and stood up. He stretched and cracked his back before pacing around the glass enclosed room. It had been eight hours and the team below was only three quarters through the delicate task of integrating Almir’s brain into her new body. It was a small chunk of his hidden black book funding that Intelligence got from the Alliance Congress. No one, not even the President, truly knew who much he got because it was earmarked onto other bills that passed. Either way, the young woman below represented a major investment and, whether she liked it or not, would be under his thumb for many years to come. Reyes stared down at Almir’s new body as the door swished open behind him. “It’s done,” “Good,” Reyes lit another cigarette. “Did you install Directive 12?” “I did,” Matthews sat down in a chair. “I don’t see WHY though.” “Katherine has been on her own for 18 years,” Reyes blew out smoke rings, “And she’s taken care of herself. That will make her…difficult to control. Directive 12 is our insurance policy.” “I hope you know what you’re doing, Admiral,” “I do,” Reyes said, “You’re dismissed, Doctor,” Reyes smoked alone as Matthews left. I hope I do too.
Chapter 1 Doctor Louis Matthews strode through the station corridors, his mind thinking about the task at hand. A cheerful man, he didn’t get downbeat no matter how difficult the situation. This time, however, was different. Several attractive nurses smiled as him as he passed by and he smiled back at them. The sunny disposition had been good for his sex life. Female companionship was easy to find and enjoyable. Despite the reputation as a ladies man, the nurses all wanted to spend their spare time with him. In fact, jealous squabbles erupted from time to time behind his back regularly. He just smiled inwardly at it and enjoyed the attention. He stopped before a door and leaned close to the controls. A red laser beam shot out and started to scan his retina. It disappeared and the computer slid the door open. A darkened room awaited him as he entered. However, a soft, diffuse blue light fought back at the gloom. It source: a stasis table at the far end of the lab. Matthews pulled a pen out of his coat pocket and started to click it open and shut absent mindedly. He stopped before the chamber and sighed. A woman’s body floated inside, her long, raven colored hair sprayed out in all directions. Young, she couldn’t be more then twenty, and Matthews’ heart sank. He had a daughter back on Ireland and it would kill him if what happened to this young woman occurred to his daughter. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. His knees cracked as he knelt down beside the chamber and looked at the woman within. The sight inside made even him shiver and it was the fourth time he had seen her. A antipersonnel weapon called a penetration grenade had exploded and mortally wounded the young woman. The explosive shot out tiny, hardened metal flachettes that ripped through a human body like a buzz saw. Matthews shook his head and got back to his feet. Damn things ought to be outlawed galaxy wide, he thought. He started with the head. The woman’s raven colored hair sprayed out in the zero gee environment. Long strips of flesh hung off the bones of her arms. Ligaments had ruptured, their milky white color turned pink from excessive blood loss. The torso was even worse. Matthews put the tip of his pen in his mouth and chewed on it. The woman’s chest had been ripped open. Her rib cage had shattered, both lungs collapsed and half of her heart had been destroyed. Her legs were a disaster too. The flachettes had ripped both quads and hamstrings to an irreparable mess. Both knee joints had been destroyed and both lower legs hung onto the flexible joint by threads. There’s no way she survives these injuries, Matthews thought as he pushed one of the chamber’s controls. It might be more merciful to let her die. Besides, I don’t think she’s who we’re looking for. Matthews pulled out his pocket computer and let the chamber wirelessly send its readings to it. Other then brain functions, which the machine kept alive, she was effectively dead. A push of a button on the touch screen and she’d pass quietly out of this world and into the next. He placed the computer back into his coat and shook his head. Why the Old Man was adamant on keeping her alive, he didn’t know. The young woman was nothing more then an escaped gladiator slave from Necko (and don’t get him started on that!). She was an orphan; no family alive in any of the Alliance databases. Her father had died in the Germanic Empire vs Interstellar Alliance war 22 yrs ago. The mother had disappeared around the girl’s second birthday. But there’s a reason why the Admiral wants her alive. Matthews heard the door swish open but he didn’t turn to face the visitor. Boots echoed in the room as their owner walked towards him. He tensed slightly over the conversation that would ensue. The boots’ owner stopped beside Matthews. “Doctor,” He looked over his shoulder at Admiral Claudio Reyes, chief of Fleet Intelligence. The admiral’s salt and pepper hair hid a fierce intellect. “The Ghost” was the nickname Fleet Command had given Reyes due to his skill at avoiding the public eye. “Admiral Reyes,” Matthews started to click his pen nervously. “I don’t understand the purpose of this. She’s just a gladiator slave.” “Doctor Matthews,” A thin, vulpine smile tugged at Reyes’ lips. “Your reservations are noted; however, have you ever heard of Delta Nine?” Mathews tried not to let the sound of gritting teeth reach Reyes’ ears. “Admiral,” he said, “I fail to see how a star system has anything to do with this.”
Medical hadn’t changed in the time Kate was gone. It still looked just as sterile and inhospitable as ever. How people like Matthews actually enjoyed working there beat the hell out of her. Roberts lie on a bed with his wrists tied to the rails. Stasis cuffs glowed a soft blue as Loving and Kate approached. A machine stood beside his resting place and it metered out what she assumed was painkillers given the contented look of his face. Kate stopped beside the machine. “Feeling comfortable, asshole?” Roberts looked up at her and sighed. At one time she would’ve been intimidated by the sergeant and the intensity he carried himself with. Now all she could do was look at him with contempt and a wonder how such an empty man could’ve been so threatening. Of course it had to do with the position he held: drill instructor. The one, single person who could intimidate a new recruit held that position. He or she ruled over their lives like a proverbial King where anything went and their word was final law. He looked up at her. “Of course,” “I want to know who your contact is,” she said. Roberts smiled and started to talk in a child’s sing-sing voice. “I’ll never tell,” Kate smiled and it was colder then space. She reached for the machine and flipped the switch off. “If you say so.” Roberts’ face contorted and he sucked in a deep breath. He lifted his back up and arched it as the pain increased to unbearable levels. The chords on the sergeant’s neck were plain to see and it took all of Kate’s self control to keep from laughing at his plight. “Ready to talk now, tough guy?” she cut the painkiller back on. “No!” She cut if off again. “Now?” “No!” he gasped. “Have it your way,” Roberts’ face was covered in sweat and his breath raced. “Please,” he gasped. “No more!” Kate leaned down until their faces were an inch apart. She kept her face neutral despite the nasty smell of garlic on his breath. “Now,” she said. “You’re going to tell me who your contact was.” “They’ll kill me!” “And I won’t?” Kate said. “You know my background and you know my combat record. I’ll kill you faster then spit. Now, who was your ****ing contact!” “Turner Jones,” he said. “Where can find Mr. Jones?” “He runs a Pawn Shop on Jefferson,” Jefferson. She should’ve known that planet would come into play somehow. While Selkirk was the armpit of the Alliance, Jefferson was the home of many of the most notorious organized crime families in the galaxy. Pawn Shops, often fronts for arms dealers, were a dime a dozen. Perhaps the mafia is behind the bounty, Kate thought. Which will make finding the culprit a lot easier. “Just where is his shop?” “In Knightdale,” he said. “The capital.” Kate leaned up and smiled. “See,” she said. “How hard was that!” “Go to hell!” She cut off the medicine and the hurricane of pain cascaded down on Roberts again. “That wasn’t nice,” Kate said with a smile. “You bitch,” Roberts said through clenched teeth. “How did you get in contact with a Pawn Shop owner on a planet two days travel from here in time to try to kill me. It doesn’t make sense. So… “Who is your local contact?” “Cut…the…medicine…back…on…!” Kate stroked his sweaty brow in a parody of love. “Oh, does it hurt?” she cooed. “All you have to do is give me his or her name.” “No…!” “I can do this all day, sweet heart,” she whispered. “How about you?” Sweat ran down the former drill instructor’s face. A vein throbbed on his forehead and Kate smiled even more. He couldn’t hold out much longer. The only question was when he broke. “Ok!” he gasped. “I’ll tell you! Please cut it back on!” “Control and manipulation,” Kate said. “You taught me that. Now, the name, please.” “Eugene Parker,” he said. Kate leaned down by his ear. “And where, do tell, may I find Mister Parker?” “He runs a bar in town,” Roberts said. “Calypso.” <April,> Kate sent. <Get me the address.> <Already done,> the AI said. <It’s at 1421 Oakwood Drive.> Kate stood up straight. “When all this is done, Roberts, remember I didn’t kill you.” She turned on a heel and left with Loving in tow. Roberts had just given her the first link in a long chain. Combine that with the one from the Williams-thing and the path of the hit became clearer. If neither of them is a trap, which is more then likely. “So we’re heading to Calypso,” Loving said. “Do you know what you’re going to do then?” “No,” “No plan?” “Nope,” Loving groaned. “Here we go again,” “Yup,” Kate smiled tightly. “But you love it so much!” “Yeah, you know I just love it so much…” Loving said. “Come on, Kate, don’t you have an idea of what you want to do?” “I’m going to ask Parker nicely to tell me his contact,” “You actually think it will be that easy?” Kate shrugged. “No, but I’ll try it that way before I have to be…less then nice.” The smile on Kate’s face made Loving’s blood run cold.