A Book by its Cover Part 2

Disclaimer:

The creative process, even in artistic fields, is often not a case of sudden magnificent inspiration, but rather the end result of cold analysis of what works or doesn't work, calculated experimentation, and iterative design. If you are someone that doesn't want to know how the proverbial sausage is made, I caution you against reading further.

 

Sequels. As mentioned in part one, an original work has the difficult task of enticing a reader to pick it up and give it a read. Its sequel has to the additional complication of not only having compelling artwork, looking good in an image the size of a thumbnail, communicating genre at a glance, but also indicating that it is a continuation of an existing work.

Some examples from arguably the most famous sequel in pop culture.

Note how “The Star Wars Saga Continues” is printed prominently as is Darth Vader, who is the most striking image in all of Star Wars.

 

While the intent might be the same, there is a difference in the execution of a movie that has a budget of tens of millions of dollars and a focus tested marketing campaign verses that of the typical independently published author. Many authors, having made a cover that is appealing to look at and effectively communicates genre, often use variations of the original theme for the sequels.

 

Of course, me being me, the expected tried and true methods of how to proceed were chucked out the window after a stream of nutcase incoherent curses of “where’s the fun in that” and “I’d rather do it my way.” For me, the cover for book two must be visually striking, must communicate genre, must be visible in a thumbnail, but absolutely must not have a visual theme that is the same as Monster of the Dark.

While each book in the Mirrors in the Dark series is a part of the same continuing story, there are minute changes in the sub-genre of each that change how the story is presented and told from book to book. They are as follows:

Monster of the Dark - character study/coming of age

The Rogue Wolf - thriller

Cause of Death - military sci fi

“Book Four” - tragedy

Genre hops like this tend to frustrate readers as the average reader expects the conventions of genre to be consistent from book to book. Enjoyment typically follows expectation. While I am cognizant of that reality, the throughline in all my writing has never been in how well I follow specific genre tropes that readers are looking for. Instead, my intention has always been to have a general set of expectations that KT Belt readers are looking for. As my editor said regarding book four:

“As your stories always seem to be, this one is fun, adventurous, dark, and thought provoking!”

I’ll take that as a tagline.

For The Rogue Wolf I elected to use a different cover artist, Tom Edwards. I liked the work that Jeff Brown did for the cover of Monster of the Dark, however, he is quite expensive and difficult to schedule. Mr. Edwards is based out of England and all our correspondence was through email. The initial concept was present by me as follows:

I'd like a young woman in close up, pretty, blonde, hair in a ponytail, facing outwards from chest up (not sexualized).  Her eyes are glowing a bluish-white (no visible iris).  There are also bluish-white sparks of electricity emanating from her body.  In the background there is a "futuristic" city.  I don't really care about the specific style, you may indulge yourself.  However, if it is possible, I'd like the thematic aspect of the city being a forest, without the city actually looking like trees, leaves, or anything of the like.  It's easy enough for me to type here, but I'm not exactly sure the best way to translate that theme visually.  The best concept I can think of, for the moment, is normal trees in the immediate background with the city behind them.  The trees cover the base of the buildings giving the visual impression that the buildings are a continuation of the trees, though they are not.  I'm especially open to suggestions on that element.

The request for a city “coming out” of a forest is a visual symbolic reference to Gungnir’s description of how and why Clairvoyants were trained:

“It’s ridiculous, but they believed monsters and horrible beasts lived in the forests and other dark places.” He paused before he continued. “A war is raging, but if you haven’t noticed, none of that war is taking place here or on any world with a large Clairvoyant population. When the sortens or Eternals attack other worlds, they have to kill every last man, woman, and child to be certain they can hold the territory. That is why we are here. We are wolves,” he said, turning around. Behind him, Carmen could see the clouds break, once again covering the facility in the shadows of Haven City. “And we aren’t able to give pause to those who want to enter the forest if we aren’t vicious. More than that, we can never leave the forest, otherwise those taking refuge within it would be rendered defenseless.”

-The Rogue Wolf

Mr. Edwards asked why the character would be wearing and below is my reply:

As for her clothes, within the context of the story she would be wearing body armor that is constructed as a one piece bodysuit, which is of a flexible fabric similar in concept to kevlar (dark grey in color). Sounds interesting as written for a science fiction novel, but visually boring. My only real preference for her clothes would be something that appears obviously "tactical" that has high mobility and little to no encumbrance (still dark grey in color, if suitable).

A quick example of where my mind is going that I found online (for a man, but you can get the idea):

I try to include reference images, where possible, to help the artist

What I like about this example is that the general cut and subtle changes in color trim implies athleticism without over the top showing of muscle definition. Unfortunately, I can't find a similar female iteration. Most are sexualized to the point of functional uselessness (within context of the character) or makes the woman look androgynous.

 

Canonically, Carmen’s body armor is designed to stop high velocity projectiles while also having a sacrificial ablative layer for extreme heat resistance. While not explicitly described in story, the only practical way such a piece of kit could work is if were made of a type of nanofiber that was able to intelligently reconfigure itself just prior to any impact to defeat the incoming projectile. More than likely, becoming a laminate of an ultra-hard surface with softer sub-surface layers to prevent shock from transferring to the body.

In reality modern military body armors are designed to protect the vitals (head and chest) almost exclusively. High-powered rifle bullets can only reliably be stopped by heavy ballistic plates.

 

Action Girl Returns

The initial concept sketch:

 

My response:

I must say I quite like the visual of the "forest" with the city behind it. I wasn't sure how that element would come through, but it mixes quite nicely.  For now the only change I'd like is with the character. I'd like more feminine, less (overt) power. Some hips and an actual bust (not too excessive) would be nice as well. Perhaps even some vulnerability. Unfortunately I can't find a poise of what I'm speaking, but there is implied danger with the eyes (like how they came out). By the nature of the character and the story, the implication is all that is really necessary.

Quick example of what I mean:

I am absolutely NOT saying use this poise or this theme, but the implication is quite clear—sexy and dangerous. I'd like (if it is possible) vulnerable and dangerous.

Mr. Edwards asked for my opinion on the general mood and theme. I said I liked it and the clothes, but wanted a softer more “feminine” pose

 

Pose concepts:

Alternate 1

Alternate 2

 

We were getting closer. The gun had to go. I like Mr. Edwards inclusion of it, but canonically Carmen has no need for it. The pose, however, was too “Action Girl” for the character. It was hard for even I to detail exactly what I was looking for. So, I stood in front of a mirror and played with various poses until I found one that fit.

My response to Mr. Edward:

I had a thought of how she stands that I think will get us there if you don't mind me detailing in text:

Instead of standing square, as she is now. I think it will work better with her body rotated away (both shoulders and hips). By my mind's eye it doesn't make any difference if her body weight is on the back leg or not, but you're the artist, so I'll leave that to you. Her rear hand is on her hip and her lead hand is near her lead leg in a "relaxed" position. Lastly have her head rotated slightly forward, chin down.


I then provided some reference images:

I did some searching and was able to find some visuals that point toward where I was thinking. Once again, not interested in the hair or expression, just pose and posture.

I think this picture is near the closest I'm thinking of:

Her legs can't be seen, but she is even weight on both. She has her head tilted and is slightly chin up, as I said I'd like the character's head straight and slightly chin down. The arms, of course, are also not what I suggested.

 

This woman is in a similar position.  Her lead arm is relaxed near her leg, as I suggested, but her rear hand is not on hip. Her legs are apart, unlike the woman in the first picture, not sure if that would make any difference.

 

This picture is similar to the first two, but she is arching her back, neck, and lead shoulder denoting submissiveness. To me it looks awkward in a way that's hard to place.

 

This woman is somewhat, though not completely, squaring her shoulders even though her hips are rotated away. Majority of body weight is on the rear leg, with almost "L" shaped feet. She is in effect leaned away.  It "might" work, but I'm not completely certain.

 

An exaggeration of the previous picture. Her shoulders are no longer level and her rear arm is now invisible. Once again, there is an awkwardness to this pose that is hard for me to place.

Hope that helps

 

Mr. Edwards then provided sample poses to choose from:

Of these, I requested the head of 3 on the body of 1. In the meantime, detail of the background was proceeding:

Carmen placed back on the cover, but with the detail of hair to be added:

 

Hair, long beautiful hair

Generally speaking, with women, I write hair as analogous to psyche. For Carmen, her ponytail represents the psychological restraint instilled in her from her training in Monster of the Dark. It is not a tight ponytail as she is consciously aware that she is not her “true self,” the restriction producing a constant low-level frustration. It is not explicitly stated, but as the series progresses her ponytail actually gets looser. In the final book she has no ponytail at all.


My response to Mr. Edwards:

With regards to hair, some ideas. I somewhat liked the hair in the previous sketches, much more so than the hair in the last sketch that had hair. If I can get something similar to those, with maybe a little more volume to make her look "girlier" I'd appreciate it.

A few reference images. Ignore the face, expression, and head position, I'm just talking about the hair:

I like how her bangs frame the face

Similar style, viewed from the side

Once again similar style, but more volume...possibly too much in the tail, if only slightly.

 

Despite differences in the theme of the cover there were elements I wanted to continue through the series. Namely fonts and how each book was numbered. Detailed below:

Unrelated, this is actually the second book in the series. I'm working with a different cover artist concurrently on that book as I'm working with you. At the time I started this I wasn't sure if I wanted to include the series name on the title (which is "Mirrors in the Dark"). I have since decided that I would like to. I do like how the other artist included the series title on the cover, with a horizontal line, and a number for the book (in this case it would be "2"). Reference below.

The title of "The Rogue Wolf" can stay at the top, but I do also like the less blocky font here.

 

The final cover (art only):

 

And with title in series standard font and number style:

The production work for book one and two was happening almost concurrently. Two different artists two different styles, and I like how both turned out. Next this series continues and there is yet another change of theme with book three.

A Book by its Cover Part 1

Disclaimer:

The creative process, even in artistic fields, is often not a case of sudden magnificent inspiration, but rather the end result of cold analysis of what works or doesn't work, calculated experimentation, and iterative design. If you are someone that doesn't want to know how the proverbial sausage is made, I caution you against reading further.

Everyone has been told at some point in their life to, "Not judge a book by its cover." The wisdom of that idiom as it applies to people, places, situations, and experiences is well intentioned in the usually banal instances it is spoken. Your dear mother suggesting that perhaps Jason actually is fun to play with...despite how lame he looks, is quite different though similar in kind to the idea that the growling snarling dog looks vicious but may be really friendly once he's let off his leash.

Countless examples can be given either supporting or refuting the rule, however, there is one inescapable truth—the average reader DOES judge a book by its cover and in many cases, it is the initial reason why a reader becomes interested in a book.

Besides an eye-catching image, more critically, book covers need to convey genre, major selling points if any (awards, mass appeal, etc), and all these elements must be visible in an image the size of an Amazon thumbnail.

vs.

vs.

The genre of the books is obvious even in these small images

In addition, the first book in any series has the considerable task of not only making a reader interested in it, but also all subsequent books in the series. Book three or book five might look cool and might be well-reviewed, however, if book one looks completely unappealing a prospective reader might never be convinced enough to read to book three or five.

Monster of the Dark (MOD) is my first published book and subsequently it is the first time I’ve ever had to commission a cover. I selected Jeff Brown for the cover based upon his body of work and what I was looking for. Though, I’ve never commissioned a cover for a book, I have worked with artists before and they have explained to me that they always find it more helpful if the client has some sort of idea of what they are seeking instead of the artist having to constantly draw and redraw over and over again until the client finally sees something that clicks. Artists are, of course, creatives too and I’ve also found that overly specific requests can conversely produce a final piece that either falls flat or a final design that doesn’t utilize all the artist's strengths. Most artists will make suggestions, but ultimately, it’s best to give the customer what they want—for their good or ill.

My initial pitch to Mr. Brown was done over a video conference, unfortunately I have no record of it. Suffice to say the cover that is on MOD is not that pitch in any way. The original pitch was basically the scene from the first chapter of the book wherein Carmen was taken from her home. Mr. Brown believed the image might be a good piece of art but would be ineffective as a thumbnail.

I deferred to the judgement of the professional experienced artist and the idea was scrapped. I still might commission that cover at a later date for my own vanity when a (not insignificant) amount of money is wasting away in my pocket, but for now the original idea exists only in my imagination.

We eventually agreed upon the general theme of the Carmen overlooking a futuristic city. Mr. Brown asked for any distinguishing aspects of the character (Carmen) or the world, particularly vehicles, architecture, etc. For Carmen I said she was a young woman, blonde, with a ponytail. I also requested, which is a signature Clairvoyant trait, that sparks of electricity arc along her body.

As an aside, the physiological aspects of a Clairvoyants at a high state of charge namely: sparks from their bodies, glowing eyes, and physical discomfort being near them were taken from Godzilla (Godzilla is a monster born from the atomic bomb. While rarely mentioned in the movies, being near him causes radiation sickness)

Description of a Clairvoyant waking up:

Waking up was never a quiet event for a Clairvoyant. Their bioelectric fields, energized by irrational dreams and nightmares, raged madly though invisibly while they slept. Then, by the slightest stir of the conscious mind from its stupor, the fields exploded into spectacular disarray. Visible sparks coursed along both of their bodies, getting wilder and wilder till they eventually filled the corner of the room where they slept. The two Clairvoyants’ respective fields played with each other, challenged each other, retreated, and gave way like a superhuman duel between two angry specters. And then it stopped. The only evidence that remained of the monster within was a slight whitish-blue tint to their eyes when they were opened, but it went away after a second or two.


The Rogue Wolf

 

The depiction of the “futuristic city” I left open to the artist. I did mention that cars can fly in this universe…specifically that their performance is greater than modern fighter planes, but I once again left how they looked to the artist.

The initial concept sketch:

I generally liked the initial sketch. However, it suffered from what I now like to call “Action Girl Syndrome.” I don’t know if it’s the influence of the present culture, or the general preference of artists to present characters is dramatic powerful poses, but I notice it is a tendency I must regularly pull them back from. My exact reply to the sketch:

Well after a day to think about it, I must say I still quite like the theme and setting.  My only request at this point is for less tension in the body (back and arms).  Elementally, the character is more "water" than "fire."  It's the difference between "I could hurt you" vs. "I will hurt you."

I then provided the artist some reference images of his own work for what I was looking for:

Verses a reference from his catalogue of what I didn’t want:

The cover was then developed to this point:

The resulting pose is a perfect example of an artist intuitively understanding after just a few words what a client is seeking, and is also a good example of the human touch present in well-made art that AI can’t match. The resulting stance is dramatic, powerful, and FEMININE. “Chef’s kiss” is the contrast between open relaxed left hand and tight-fisted right hand. Once again, Could hurt you vs Will hurt you. Other subconscious aspects that I like are the slight Dutch angle present in the city, though Carmen is center frame and straight. Dutch angles (tilting of the frame) in film are often used to “unsettle” the audience. In this instance the implication can be taken as the world is “off” and/or the character doesn’t fit in it. Also, the spread of the arms hints at, though doesn’t completely imply a crucifix. While Carmen is NOT a Christlike figure there are blink and you’ll miss it religious themeings in Monster of the Dark.

Changes from that point were minor. For one Mr. Brown forgot that the character was blonde, I personally thought her hips were too big. And I requested that the small sparks have their color changed to blue. I suspect that the color for the sparks were chosen to contrast the blueish background. I don’t like countermanding artists choice of color; they know far more about color theory and how color choice affects the viewer. However, in this case I preferred color choice corresponded to accuracy. It is not explicitly stated, but the colors Clairvoyants produce, either sparks or heat beams, follow the spectrum of electromagnetic waves to denote intensity.

The final image (art only) is as you can see below:

While not what I was initially seeking, I do quite like the end result. I personally think the cover stands out against most other covers in the genre. I also liked the fonts chosen by the artist so much that I decided to have them as the fonts for the rest of the series.

Part two will cover how the cover for the second book in the Mirrors in the Dark Series, The Rogue Wolf, came about. And how striking just the right pose can be so elusive.

Why I Write

 

This wouldn't be the first time Billy told his story about the Witch of the Mists. Perhaps, it all started the day he found out his scout troop would be spending a weekend camping at the Great Smokey Mountains. The idea that there was some long forgotten evil lurking among the ridges and preying upon unsuspecting travelers wedged itself in his mind, and despite his best attempts, it would not go away.

Over the succeeding weeks his every waking thought that wasn't spent eating, studying, or clowning with his friends was busy refining the details of the tale. Some of the ideas where utterly stupid, one was a blatant rip off of that werewolf movie he saw last month, and then there were a few rabbit holes his brain couldn't help surveying that had nothing to do with the actually goings on of the story he intended to tell, but were good to know anyway. Items like what exactly caused to Witch to hunger for fresh souls.

He told his friends tidbits as they came to him…until a strong punch in the arm from John let him know that maybe they really were more interested in talking about Sally's short skirt than some fabled wrinkled up old prune. Yet, while Sally's chosen attire DID arouse his attention, especially when she bent over, he couldn't get over the image of a gnarled hand reaching for him from out of a cloudy void.

At night, when it was quiet, he wordlessly mouthed the story in bed. He thought once or twice about writing it down, but no, this needed to be told. Words on a page couldn’t convey the Witch's whisper quiet voice that shrieked randomly on an odd syllable. Besides, every time he told himself the story it not only changed slightly, but got better. He could, also, now do the Witch's voice without even thinking about it.

Unfortunately, that wasn't good enough. What did it matter that HE and he alone knew the tale of the old crone that lurked deep in the mountains? He swore that Satan's Mistress herself once visited his dreams and told him that if he didn't tell somebody her story, she'd rip his soul out the moment he stepped foot on HER mountains. Perhaps instinctively he knew not to tell his mother. No matter what he said, she'd say it was great before proceeding with whatever was required to keep them clothed and fed. His father wasn’t one to mince words to save his ego…if he even used words. Usually a short grunt meant "good" and a long low grunt meant "bad." Neither parent would do. Consequently, his kid sister, Betsy, was the first.

Billy was surprised she listened to the entire thing. For sure, she'd get bored and wander off to do some girly thing that she miraculously found less boring than watching paint dry. But, she sat and listened attentively. Indeed, the longer and longer he spoke the wider and wider her eyes got while she clutched her stuffed dolphin, Clyde, tighter and tighter.

That night his sister inexplicably screamed in her sleep and demanded to spend the rest of the night in their parent's bed. In the morning, he could tell that his mother was furious. She tasked his father to mete out a punishment. His old man worked hard not to laugh when he described how scared his sister was, but Billy received the directive loud and clear—no more scary stories for Betsy.

Eventually the fated weekend came. The Smokey Mountains were living up to their reputation. The air was thick with dense fog. Thankfully, the troop found the campsite easily enough, and then began a long hike. Billy's father was among the troop leaders. The adults were getting increasing annoyed that the boys weren't paying the slightest attention to anything they were saying about the nature all around them. Billy didn't join in his peer’s mindless conversation. He did randomly look in different directions and before intently staring at nothing, though.

"Hey, Billy what's up," Big Mike asked, the teen could probably powerslam half the fathers on the trip.

"Nothing, nothing," Billy said nervously. He stopped suddenly then shot his head a direction "What was that," he hissed.

"What was what?" Joseph asked, pulling away from the conversation of the upcoming hockey season long enough to notice something else was going on.

Billy shook his head. "Nothing it's nothing, just had a feeling of being watched...ya know."

"Yeah, whatever," Joseph replied, before returning to talking about hockey.

But while they walked Billy continued to look around himself nervously. Most of the boys noticed, a few scoffed under their breaths. His father gave him a long glance, though. When Billy noticed he smiled, which made his father smirk.

It was night when the troop returned to camp. A fire was crackling after only a few minutes. S'mores were passed around soon after that. Billy waited until everyone was comfortable around the fire. Then he said softly, "does anyone want to hear a story?"

No one really made a reply, but there were no "noes" either. He began slowly. A first no one was really paying attention. That changed, however, when he decided to introduce a new character on the fly...Stacy, who for whatever reason loved wearing short skirts. It was then he realized that what interested his kid sister was different than a group of teenage boys on a camping trip, but not completely. When the first unfortunate hiker's soul was taken all side conversation ended, even some of the fathers were paying attention to him now. The gory details that made Betsy cringe uncomfortably produced wry smiles, which sharply fell away when the Witch of the Mist fileted the hikers who would shut up about the upcoming baseball season—they might have escaped her notice if they were quiet.

When it was over, Billy noticed that Gordon hadn't taken a single bite of his s'more the entire time. His fingers were covered in melted chocolate.

"Great story," Mike said.

"At least it passed the time," Joseph replied dismissively before starting up another conversation about hockey.

Eventually, the troop leaders announced that it was time to sack out. Billy went to his tent and sighed contentedly. It was gone. He had told the story of the Witch of the Mists and finally, at last, his mind was free to think about anything else. He had to work to even remember the tale.

"Dad, what's the next trip going to be?" he asked as his father got comfortable in his sleeping bag next to him.

"Offshore fishing."

Billy nodded and thought nothing of it. The next day there was a difference in the troop as they hiked. A few of the boys glanced anxiously in the mist as they walked. All of them were quiet, even Joseph. Big Mike asked Billy about the story, he clearly wanted more, but Billy found it hard to concentrate. His mind was preoccupied with something else.

The ride home was pretty quiet. His father might have grunted once or twice. It was late when they finally arrived. His mother was already asleep as was surely Betsy. However, when he went to turn his light off, he turned to see her in his doorway, Clyde tucked under her arm.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Can't sleep," she eventually said. Billy wondered what exactly he was supposed to do about that, but he noticed that it seemed like she wanted to say something else. He raised an eyebrow.

"Can you tell me another scary story?" she eked out, guiltily.

Billy reflected that mom was furious that Betsy fled to her bed after a big brother induced nightmare, but Betsy hadn’t complained about it. He smiled. He didn't know if there'd be hell to pay in the morning, but he didn't care.

"Sure. Have you heard of the Beast that lurks beneath the Depths?"

Book Four off to the Editor

(Disney)

It’s that special day in every work of fiction’s life where the author has done all he or she can to make their story the best it can possibly be, and it needs to be handed off to a set of more impartial and critical eyes. I once again apologize for the time it is taking to publish the fourth book in the Mirror’s in the Dark series (title to be revealed later), but I assure you the book is still coming.

This work has been quite the undertaking. Originally, I estimated that the book would run approximately 160,000 words. At the time of this post the book is just under 175,000 words! It will take a little time for my editor to go through the project and still more time for me to evaluate her suggestions. The book cover also needs to be created. Nevertheless, this is a milestone I have long looked forward too.

In the meantime, things will get a little busier around here as I now have some time to post before I begin book five.

Thank you all, and thank you for your patience,

KT Belt

Book Three in the Mirrors in the Dark Series available for preorder!

After a lot of work and effort book three Cause of Death is now available for preorder at the discounted price of $2.99! After launch on 3/30 the price will revert to $4.99. This is a fast paced more action-oriented tale than Monster of the Dark and The Rogue Wolf. I hope you enjoy it! First chapter included below:

Chapter 1

Another Day in the Office

 

 

Here, surrounded by nothing, the cold penetrated all. Time stood still until there was just this singular moment. Only a glance at the clock in front of her told otherwise. The dark, lonely nothingness warped and clouded everywhere else she looked. This was her life for longer than she could remember. Her only company, the only thing that let her know she still existed, were the small pinpoints of light all around her—and, of course, Red.

“I’m telling you, Winter, they’re not going to show.”

Winter smiled as she flexed her fingers and rubbed them together. Their starfighter was a nice, dim hunk of metal floating freely in space. Almost every system, major or minor, had been shut down to lower their signature on any passive sensor scan. Unfortunately, that also included the life support systems. The air was getting mighty stale, but what was more of a bother was the temperature. An ice cube would have felt warm in her hand.

“Perhaps,” she remarked casually. “Doubt it, though.”

“They aren’t that stupid. We can’t get them again, same tactics, same place.”

She smiled for a second time. “As I said, perhaps. We’ll know in…one minute,” she added, glancing at the clock. “Frankly, they better. I don’t want to be out here flying picket and freezing my ass off for nothing.”

“Bet?”

Winter thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. “Unless you got a heater stuffed in your flight suit, there is nothing you can give me that I want.” The fighter pilot let out an annoyed huff. “I’m pretty sure my eyelashes have icicles now.”

Red laughed, which made Winter purse her lips, but she said nothing else. He was seated behind her, and she could only imagine his face.

“Traveler One-One, Cerberus, thirty seconds, comms check,” spoke a soft voice on their fighter’s communicator.

So it’s Leena this time, Winter thought. The Griffin’s operations officer, Ensign Leena Swanson, always had a calm, soft voice no matter the situation. Her words just had way of knifing through maelstroms to soothe racing pulses. Most in the squadron had come to appreciate it.

“Cerberus, Traveler One-One, four by five,” Red responded. “Anyway, they’re not going to show,” he teased, turning his attention back to Winter.

“Well, when you work by algorithms and efficiency, it does make you predicable. You call it stupid, but it’s smart in a way.”

“Uh huh.” She well knew her backseater was rolling his eyes. She grinned as she thought of the expression she saw far too often. “We’re too far away anyway. It will be hard to pick them up at half a light year,” he continued.

“Ten seconds,” Leena remarked.

Winter glanced at the clock before she spoke. “I think you’ll appreciate the separation if they do show. Baby and TR escaped with about half their Screamer,” she remarked, referring to their Banshee starfighter by the name most pilots called it.

Half a Screamer was a bit of an exaggeration. She’d heard the phrase, ‘A wing and a prayer,’ but even merciful angels would have ejected from that ship. It was barely worth saving as scrap.

Red must have been considering what she said, as he didn’t respond immediately. “No doubt about that,” he eventually muttered.

Winter barely heard him. She was fully focused on the clock now. All things considered, and despite the monumental waste of time it would be, she’d rather freeze here for nothing than suffer some other less pleasant alternatives. Five, four, three, she counted down in her head as she stared at the clock. The expected time till intercept came and then went, but there was nothing. Her gaze went to where the Eternal fleet would be dispelling their Ghost Drives. She had no hope of ever seeing anything with the naked eye at the expected range, but the reflex couldn’t be helped.

“Good thing I didn’t bet.”

“No shit,” Red responded. “Cerberus, Traveler One-One, negative contact. I say again, negative contact.”

“Traveler One-One, copy negative contact, cleared RTB,” Leena said back.

Winter sighed softly as she flexed her fingers once more. At least she’d be able to get warm soon. “All right, let’s get out of here. Plot a course. I’ll start powering systems.”

There was no response from Red; not at first. “Winter!”

“What?” she asked, annoyed that he was practically screaming at her.

“Winter! Winter!” he said, his voice so rushed that it was cracking.

“What? What is it?”

“Multiple contacts all around us. Closest contact is just eight light seconds away!”

She turned on her helmet-mounted display and looked rapidly in every direction. The enemy didn’t drop out of light speed half a light year away as expected but right on top of them.

“Do they detect us?”

“Not that I can tell,” Red answered.

“Phone it in.”

He nodded, though she’d never be able to see it. “Cerberus, Traveler One-One, enemy contact, datalink established, confirm,” he said hurriedly.

“Easy, Red.” She spoke softly, though admittedly her breath came short. “We’ve still got a job to do. Focus on that.” But she couldn’t fault him for his nerves.

She was the Hustlers’ CO, a veteran from the beginning of the first Terran-Sorten War from the very first battle. There were few pilots who weren’t either retired or dead who could say they’d seen more combat than Winter had, but now even her hands were tingling, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

The two of them waited for several more seconds, but Leena gave no response. Winter swallowed hard. “Are we being jammed?” she asked. If so, that wrinkle would ruin the entire plan.

Red opened his mouth to speak and then cursed softly. Winter raised a confused eyebrow as she turned her head toward him. He continued muttering to himself.

“No,” he finally said. “It’s just… Damn it, I’ll leave that on.”

“Red?”

“Cerberus, Traveler One-One, enemy contact, datalink established, confirm,” he repeated, ignoring her. At least his words were crisp and professional this time.

She considered what just happened and felt a wry smirk come to her freezing lips when the only possible explanation dawned on her. He had forgotten to hit the transmit button.

“Traveler One-One, Cerberus, confirm,” came Leena’s steady, calm reply. “Wow, great tracks. Hold position. All Hammers inbound, enjoy the fireworks. Twenty-two seconds.”

Well, there’s a reason for the great tracks, Winter thought, but neither she nor Red said anything. She could hear his breath quicken. It made her realize that hers also worked to keep up with her thudding chest. Her mouth was dry, and she swallowed hard.

Just then, there were small pinpoints of lights all around them. They were brighter than the stars and had an odd bluish-white ethereal glow. They grew ever brighter as the missiles streaked to their targets. In time, long thin beams of light streaked out to meet them from where she knew the Eternal fleet was. Everywhere she looked, all around them, the light show grew and grew in intensity until it came to its inevitable climatic end. The first explosion turned their fighter’s cockpit canopy almost completely opaque. She still had to squint her eyes. On and on the explosions came until she felt like she was in the center of the sun.

“Winter, they’ve begun active scanning. Several smaller contacts inbound…fighters.”

“They’ve made us. All systems on, let’s get out of here,” she said quickly but without stress. She could almost feel the abrasive certainty of the noose tightening around their necks, but hysterics never helped.

There was, however, a voice that could be calmer than hers no matter the situation. “Traveler One-One, please hold position for battle damage assessment,” Leena said, seemingly unaware of the enormity of the request.

“BDA?” Red shouted in disbelief. “Are they fucking crazy?”

“Traveler One-One, Cerberus, I didn’t copy your last. Say again,” Leena said.

Red muttered curses under his breath again while Winter smirked once more. When he forgot to transmit, he must have turned on his VOX to avoid making the same mistake. Politeness aside, Leena had heard him five by five.

“They really want to get us killed this time,” Red continued, but only after double-checking that it was a private conversation.

“No more than any other day,” Winter said with a shrug. “Time till intercept?”

“Fifteen seconds.”

“Time till full power?”

“Full power…now. But we won’t have weapons for about a minute.”

Winter groaned loudly. At least the cockpit was getting warmer. In any case, not only were they flying alone, but also, other than their six laser cannons, they were unarmed. Nine times out of ten, it was better to be lighter for a quick escape. The tenth time? Well, those usually made great stories at the bar, if you survived to tell the tale.

“Cerberus is outbound at this time. Rendezvous at alpha three. Good luck.”

Red muttered more curses under his breath; Winter ignored him. Now was a perfect time for the Griffin to get away. The carnage of the attack, which was rapidly dissipating, disrupted long range sensors, allowing a brief window for the starship to power her Ghost Drive without being tracked by whatever was left of the Eternal fleet.

The more immediate, however, came to the fore. Their pursing fighters opened fire. The energy rushed toward them like an impossibly fast missile, but at this range, maneuver was still an effective defense. Her IF/A-1000F Banshee was operated with a fly-by-thought flight control system. In an instant, they were burning on an evasive course that sped them to safety—at least for the next second or so.

“Still want to take that bet?” she teased.

“Fuck you, Winter,” Red snapped. “They’re firing again.”

She took a deep breath and, a fraction of a second later, they reversed their vector. The violence of the turn would have crushed her into putty and turn her sleek starfighter into a pile of disheveled junk, but the inertial inhibitor trimmed the force out to no more than an annoying weight on her chest.

Winter took the briefest of instants to glance at her sensor display and was quick to see the Eternals closing on them in an ever-tightening net. The machines weren’t capable of vengeance, as far as she knew. Perhaps a lone starfighter wasn’t even worth the trouble. But algorithms and efficiency were quite predicable. When you encounter the enemy, you kill them.

“Get us a hole, a weak spot, anything. We don’t have much time!” she shouted.

Then she threw the fighter in an erratic weave while Red cursed continuously behind her. Several shots now burned uncomfortably close. She worked the problem herself, glancing everywhere with her helmet display, but there was no immediately apparent solution.

“I think I got it. Two fighters slightly apart from the main group,” he said.

“Where?”

“Designated Master One and Two.”

Winter glanced at the relevant pair and accelerated her fighter toward them at full power. The Banshee’s twin matter-antimatter annihilation engines spooled to their second stage, and it was like an explosion. Her vision grayed as the inertial inhibitor struggled to keep up with all the acceleration forces. White-hot plasma belched behind the fighter for hundreds of miles. Their opposition fired at them, and her counter with a small change in vector almost blacked the two of them out.

“Winter, shoot list is up,” he said. But nothing happened. It was only maybe a half-second or so, but it seemed like an hour. One of the enemy’s shots even burned their shields down to a critical level. “What’s the matter? Shoot ‘em!”

“We don’t have lasers yet.”

“Shoot ‘em!” Red yelled again, before he heard her response.

“We don’t have lasers yet!” she repeated, yelling over him. “Give me a missile lock.”

“Winter, we don’t have missiles either,” he pointed out.

“They don’t know that.”

Her words made his hands fly over his console. Backseaters made due without a fly-by-thought system. The response was immediate when it was done. “They’re turning cold.”

“Charging Ghost Drive,” she announced as she put the fighter through another series of violent vector changes.

All throughout, an ethereal light built all around them. Their acceleration slowed from engine power feeding the system. At the last moment, Winter pointed the fighter on its proper course. Then, all at once, there was nothing. No fighters and not even any stars—nothing other than black all around them. Winter breathed easy.

“You did record all that for their precious BDA, right?” she asked after a sigh. Red said nothing. “Right?”

“Aw… Shit, I’m sorry. With everything going on, I forgot.” Winter leaned forward and then turned, trying her best to see him. He smiled at her. “I got it all, don’t worry.”

“Fuck you, Red,” Winter said as she turned to face forward again.

“Hope it makes them happy, Fleet officers.”

“Either way, the result’s the same,” she replied.

“What’s that?”

“We do it again tomorrow.”

Less than one week to go!

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“The Rogue Wolf” launches on June 8th and I’m quite excited for the release!

I only have one beta reader, my lovely wife, who will quite openly tell me if she doesn’t like anything I’ve written and why. She said “The Rogue Wolf” is the best work I’ve done (I have other unpublished work). My editor gave a one word response when she was finished, “Wow!”

From the cover, to the writing , to the story, as always, I try to put out the best work I possibly can. I hope you enjoy Carmen Grey’s continuing journey…and guess what, book three is progressing quite nicely.

Available for preorder