REGARDING STEN #4:
FLEET OF THE DAMNED
We were cresting the hill of the 405, nearing the point
where you leave the smog-choked Land Of The Studios behind and enter the Realm
Of The Beach Cities, where the air is sea- breeze-sweet and the skies are always
clear – except some mornings when the fog is so thick they have to ground all
the planes at LAX.
I glanced at the passenger’s side rear view mirror and saw
the yellow haze slowly vanishing from view. Crossed my arms and settled back
into the seat. I was in a foul mood.
Chris cracked the windows to let the ocean air sweep away
the stench of Eau De Universal Studios Parking Lot, where the poor BMW had
languished for two miserable hours.
“For a minute there, Cole,” he said, “I thought you were
gonna clock someone.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I said. “If you want to turn around
and go back I’ll rectify the situation.”
I wasn’t joking.
Chris laughed. “Nah,” he said. “Security might grab us and
make us watch the fucking pilot again.”
“It wasn’t the pilot so much,” I said. “Pilots almost always
suck.”
“The Magnum P.I. pilot wasn’t half bad,” Chris said,
referring to the hit Tom Selleck series. (See “The Ugliest Dog In Hawaii")
“This was no Magnum,” I said. “It was…” I gave an impatient
wave of my hand… “… Well, never mind what it was. My pissoff has nothing to do
with the shitty pilot and everything to do with the incredible waste of our
time.”
In case you hadn’t noticed, Gentle Reader, we were doing our
Bunch And Cole role reversal bit. Whenever one guy was down in the dumps it was
the other guy’s job to cheer him up and vice versa.
But I was inconsolable.
“It was a fucking cattle call,” I railed on. “Thirty, forty
writers stuffed in a postage stamp-size screening room, stinking of fear,
desperation and last night’s drunk.”
“Can’t argue with you there, partner mine,” Chris said.
“And the producers had no intention of buying,” I said.
“They were just trying to get around the new Guild rule… And succeeding.”
I was referring to the clumsy attempt of the WGA
(Screenwriters’ Guild Of America) to boost the freelance business and
discourage the practice of having staff writers Bogart all the scripts. To
encourage a healthier balance for their membership they decreed that producers
had to meet with a specified number of freelance writers each season.
But meet doesn’t necessarily mean buy. Hence, the Cattle
Call.
“What really frosts my ass,” I said, “is that we are a week
out from finishing the book – this after six months of writing – and they blew
our entire day.”
(The book in question was Fleet Of The Damned, the halfway
point in the Sten series, where everything takes a sharp turn in a surprising
direction.)
Silence for a minute. Then Chris said, “I proposed that we
establish Bunch And Cole Rule Number Five Thousand And Twenty Two.”
“We have five thousand and twenty one others?” I said.
“Shit, I must’ve lost track.”
“Don’t you want to hear my rule?” Chris said.
“Rule away,” I said.
Chris cleared his throat. Then intoned: “Mr. Chairman, I
proposed we adopt the Bunch And Cole No Cattle Call Rule. From here on out,
we’ll only meet if we are guaranteed a sale.”
I was quiet for a moment. Chris was serious. And so was I.
To me there is no greater sin than to waste a creative person’s time. On the
other hand, it was a pretty arrogant rule. Our agent would shit. Well, fuck
him. At that point in our young careers we were already pretty damned arrogant. An attitude apparently so refreshing in fear-driven Hollywood that it
got us a helluva lot of work.
“All in favor,” Chris said.
Raised my hand. “Aye.”
“All opposed?”
“Fuck ‘em if they do,” I said.
The mood definitely brightened after that.
A few miles later, Chris chuckled. “I was just thinking
about our ending,” he said. “Talk about nasty. Makes me feel cuddly all over.”
It was my turn to laugh. “We’re going to piss off a lot of
readers,” I said. “We might have to go hide out in Azerbaijan, or something,
while we write the next book.”
“Fuck, Cole,” Chris said. “They’ll never know what hit
them!”
And to this day Fleet Of The Damned pisses off everyone who
reads it. Then they just have to buy Sten #5 – Revenge Of The Damned.
To find out why, read the book.
Oh, and if any of you suspect that we were taking out our pissoff at Hollywood Cattle Call meetings on our readers, you would be wrong. Pure coincidence.
Oh, and if any of you suspect that we were taking out our pissoff at Hollywood Cattle Call meetings on our readers, you would be wrong. Pure coincidence.
Meanwhile, here’s the first chapter of the book everyone
loves to hate.
*****
FLEET OF THE DAMNED
BY ALLAN COLE &
CHRIS BUNCH
CHAPTER ONE
THE TAHN BATTLE cruiser arced past the dying sun. The final
course was set and in a few hours the ship would settle on the gray-white
surface of Fundy—the major planetary body in the Erebus System.
Erebus would seem to be the last place that any being would
want to go. Its sun was so near extinction that it shone only a feeble pale
yellow light on its few heavily cratered satellites. The minerals left on those
barren bodies would barely have supported a single miner. Erebus was a place to
give one dreams of death.
Lady Atago listened impatiently to the radio chatter between
her crew and the main port com center on Fundy. The voices on the other end
seemed lazy, uncaring, without discipline—a marked contrast to the crisp string
of words coming from her own crew. It grated her Tahn sensibilities.
The situation on Fundy had been neglected too long.
Lady Atago was a tall woman, towering over many of her
officers. At casual glance some might think that she was exotically
beautiful—long, flowing dark hair, wide black eyes, and sensuous lips. Her body
was slender, but there was a hint of lushness to it. At the moment it was
particularly well set off in her dress uniform: a dark green cloak, red tunic,
and green form-fitting trousers.
At second glance all thoughts of beauty would vanish as a
chill crept up the spine. This was Tahn royalty. A nod of her head could
determine any one of many fates—all of them unpleasant.
As her ship punched into landing orbit, she glanced over at
her captain, who was monitoring the actions of the crew.
"Soon, my lady."
"I'll require one squad," she said.
Her head turned away, dismissing the captain. Lady Atago was
thinking of those undisciplined fools awaiting her on Fundy.
*****
The big ship settled
to the ice about half a kilometer from the port center. The engines cut off,
and the ship was instantly enveloped in gray as sleet slanted in from a stiff
wind.
Most of the surface of Fundy was ice and black rock. It was
an unlikely place for any enterprise, much less the purpose it was being put to
by its present occupants.
The Tahn were preparing for war against the Emperor and the
Erebus System was the cornerstone of their plan. In great secrecy, Erebus had
been converted into a system-wide warship factory.
So distant and so undesirable was Erebus that there was
little likelihood that the Eternal Emperor would discover their full-out effort
to arm themselves until it was too late. Thousands of ships were being built,
or converted, or refitted.
When Lady Atago's battle cruiser entered the system, she
could partially see those efforts. Small, powerful tugs were towing hundreds of
kilometer-long strings of the shells that would be turned into fighting ships
and then transported to ground for final refitting. Huge factories had been
hastily constructed on each of the planets, and the night skies had an eerie
glow from the furnaces.
The Tahn had drafted every available laborer down to the
barely skilled. The poor quality of their work force was one of the several
reasons the Tahn had chosen to concentrate so much of their manufacturing on
planets rather than in space.
Deep space required highly trained workers, and that was
something that the massive arming had stretched to the near impossible. Also,
deep-space factories required an enormous investment, and the Tahn could
already hear the coins clicking out of their treasury vaults.
They wanted as many ships as possible, as cheaply as
possible. Any malfunctions, no matter how life-threatening, would be the
problem of the individual crews.
The Tahn were a warrior race with stamped steel spears.
*****
Lady Atago paused
at the foot of the ramp, surrounded by a heavily armed squad of her best
troops. This was her personal bodyguard, chosen not only for military skills
and absolute loyalty but for size as well. Each member of the squad dwarfed
even Lady Atago.
The troops shuffled in the sudden, intense cold, but Atago
just stood there, not even bothering to pull her thermo cloak about her.
She looked in disgust at the distant port center. Why had
they landed her so far away? The incompetent fools. Still, it didn't surprise
her.
Lady Atago began walking determinedly through the snow; the
squad followed her, their harness creaking and their boots crunching through
the icy surface. Big gravsleds groaned past, hauling parts and supplies. On
some of them, men and women clung to the sides, catching tenuous rides back and
forth from their shifts at the factories that ringed the port with smoke and
towering flames.
The Lady Atago turned her head neither left nor right to
observe the strange scene. She just stalked on until they reached the center.
A sentry barked from a guard booth just outside the main
door. She ignored him, brushing past as her squad snapped up their weapons to
end any further inquiry. Boot-heels clicked loudly as they marched down the
long hallway leading to the admin center.
As they turned a corner, a squat man came half running
toward them, hastily arranging his tunic. Lady Atago stopped when she saw that
he was wearing the uniform of an admiral.
The man's face was sweating and flushed as he reached them. "Lady
Atago," he blurted. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were arriving
so soon, and—"
"Admiral Dien?" she said, stopping him in
midgobble.
"Yes, my lady?"
"I will require your office," she said, and she
walked on, Dien stumbling after her.
*****
The Lady Atago
sat in silence as she scanned the computer records. Two of her squad stood at
the door, weapons ready. The others had placed themselves strategically about
the overlush offices of the admiral.
When she had first entered the office she had given it one
quick glance. A slight curl of a lip showed what she thought of it: very
un-Tahn-like.
As she scrolled through records, Dien muttered on in an
endless stream of half explanations.
"There… there… you can see. The storm. We lost
production for a day.
"And that item! We had to blast new landing strips to
handle the freighters. The pressure was enormous, my lady. The sky was black
with them. And we had insufficient facil—"
He stopped abruptly as she motioned and the computer screen
went blank. She stared at it for a long, long time. Finally, she rose to her
feet and turned to face the man.
"Admiral Dien," she intoned. "In the name of
Lord Fehrle and the Tahn High Council, I relieve you of your command."
A painter or a physicist would have been in awe at the shade
of white the man's face became. As she started out of the room, one of her
squad members came forward.
"Wait, my lady. Please," Dien implored.
She half turned back, one perfect eyebrow lifting slightly.
"Yes?"
"Would you at least allow me… Uh, may I keep my
sidearm?"
She thought for a moment. "Honor?"
"Yes, my lady... Honor."
There was another long wait. Then, finally, she replied.
"No. I think not."
The Lady Atago exited, the door closing quietly behind her.
NEXT: STEN #5 – REVENGE OF THE DAMNED.
*****
CLICK HERE TO GET ALL 8 STEN NOVELS IN TRADPAPERBACK AND KINDLE
CLICK HERE TO GET AUDIO EDITIONS OF ALL 8 STEN NOVELS,
INCLUDING EMPIRE'S END
*****
CLICK HERE TO GET AUDIO EDITIONS OF ALL 8 STEN NOVELS,
INCLUDING EMPIRE'S END
*****
NEW AUDIOBOOK:
THE WARS OF THE SHANNONS
By Allan Cole & Chris Bunch
Narrated By Scott Larson
A NATION AT WAR WITH ITSELF: In Book Three Of The Shannon Trilogy, young Patrick Shannon is the heir-apparent to the Shannon fortune, but murder and betrayal at a family gathering send him fleeing into the American frontier, with only the last words of a wise old woman to arm him against what would come. And when the outbreak of the Civil War comes he finds himself fighting on the opposite side of those he loves the most. In The Wars Of The Shannons we see the conflict, both on the battlefield and the homefront, through the eyes of Patrick and the members of his extended Irish-American family as they struggle to survive the conflict that ripped the new nation apart, and yet, offered a dim beacon of hope.
*****
LUCKY IN CYPRUS: IT'S A BOOK!
THE WARS OF THE SHANNONS
By Allan Cole & Chris Bunch
Narrated By Scott Larson
Here's where to get the paperback & Kindle editions worldwide:
Here's what readers say about Lucky In Cyprus:
- "Bravo, Allan! When I finished Lucky In Cyprus I wept." - Julie Mitchell, Hot Springs, Texas
- "Lucky In Cyprus brought back many memories... A wonderful book. So many shadows blown away!" - Freddy & Maureen Smart, Episkopi,Cyprus.
- "... (Reading) Lucky In Cyprus has been a humbling, haunting, sobering and enlightening experience..." - J.A. Locke, Bookloons.com
*****
NEW: THE AUDIOBOOK VERSION OF
THE HATE PARALLAX
THE HATE PARALLAX: What if the Cold War never ended -- but continued for a thousand years? Best-selling authors Allan Cole (an American) and Nick Perumov (a Russian) spin a mesmerizing "what if?" tale set a thousand years in the future, as an American and a Russian super-soldier -- together with a beautiful American detective working for the United Worlds Police -- must combine forces to defeat a secret cabal ... and prevent a galactic disaster! This is the first - and only - collaboration between American and Russian novelists. Narrated by John Hough. Click the title links below for the trade paperback and kindle editions. (Also available at iTunes.)
*****
THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:
A new novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan
After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm ravaged night.
BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization.
*****
Here's where you can buy it worldwide in both paperback and Kindle editions:
United Kingdom ...........................Spain
Also: NOOK BOOK. Plus ALL E-BOOK FLAVORS.
TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!
 |
Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969
|
In the depths of the Sixties and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself.
*****
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