My DragonCon 2015 Schedule

(It's all "tentative" until it's actually happened.)


Van Allen Plexico - DragonCon 2015

FRIDAY
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Schwarza-Panel: The Sci-Fi Movies of Arnold Schwarzenegger
Description: Total Recall turns 25 and the Terminators are still terminating. Come to this panel if you want to live.
Time: Fri 11:30 am Location: M303-M304 - Marriott (Length: 1 Hour)
(Tentative Panelists: Debbie Viguié, Van Allen Plexico, Mike Faber, William Stout)

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Pulp Fiction
Description: Pulp has enjoyed a renaissance in the last few years. Why? And why do authors choose to write in this genre?
Time: Fri 01:00 pm Location: Embassy A-B - Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)
Moderator / MC for panel
(Tentative Panelists: Van Allen Plexico, Bobby Nash, James Palmer, John G. Hartness)

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DC Marvel Trivia
Description: Contestants test their knowledge of Marvel and DC Comics.
Time: Fri 04:00 pm Location: International South - Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)
(Tentative Panelists: Van Allen Plexico)

SATURDAY
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Thundarr the Barbarian and Friends: Saturday Morning Sci-Fi
Description: Lords of Light in a world of savagery, super-science, and sorcery—30 years of Thundarr!
Time: Sat 08:30 am Location: M303-M304 - Marriott (Length: 1 Hour)
(Tentative Panelists: Van Allen Plexico, James Palmer, Bobby Nash)

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In Memoriam: Roger Zelazny
Description: 20 years after his passing, we discuss his work's impact on the field.
Time: Sat 01:00 pm Location: Embassy A-B - Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)
Moderator / MC for panel
(Tentative Panelists: Van Allen Plexico, James Palmer, Atlanta Radio Theatre Company, S. M. Stirling)

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Sci-Fi Jeopardy
Description: Host Van Allen Plexico tests your knowledge of the field. There will be prizes!
Time: Sat 08:30 pm Location: Embassy A-B - Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)
Moderator / MC for panel
(Tentative Panelists: Van Allen Plexico)

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Books to Film: Books that SHOULD Be Filmed
Description: But haven't. Our panelists suggest books that really ought to be filmed. Is your favorite among them?
Time: Sat 10:00 pm Location: Embassy A-B - Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)
(Tentative Panelists: James Palmer, Van Allen Plexico)

SUNDAY
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The History of Pulp Fiction
Description: What is pulp? Where does it come from? Where is it going today?
Time: Sun 10:00 am Location: Augusta 3 - Westin (Length: 1 Hour)
(Tentative Panelists: James R. Tuck, Bobby Nash, Van Allen Plexico, John G. Hartness)

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Starship Smackdown!
Description: What's your favorite starship? How'd it fare against other ships? The merits of each done in a bracket system.
Time: Sun 11:30 am Location: Embassy A-B - Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)
Moderator / MC for panel
(Tentative Panelists: Van Allen Plexico, James Palmer)

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Autograph Session: Earth Station One
Time: Sun 02:30 pm Location: International Hall South - Marriott (Length: 1 Hour)
(Tentative Panelists: Mike Faber, Bobby Nash, Van Allen Plexico, Dr. Scott Viguié, Michael Gordon)

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Peter F Hamilton Speaks
Description: Van Allen Plexico talks to our Guest of Honor, Peter F Hamilton about his work.
Time: Sun 04:00 pm Location: Regency VI - VII - Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)
Moderator / MC for panel
(Tentative Panelists: Peter F Hamilton, Van Allen Plexico)

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Sci Fi Literature Match Game
Description: A fannish version of the favorite game show.
Time: Sun 05:30 pm Location: Embassy A-B - Hyatt (Length: 1 Hour)
Moderator / MC for panel
(Tentative Panelists: Van Allen Plexico, Gray Rinehart, Melinda M. Snodgrass, Teresa Patterson)

MONDAY
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James Bond: Thunderballs, Views and Kills
Description: Once more around the world to celebrate the anniversaries of Thunderball, A View to a Kill and Goldeneye.
Time: Mon 10:00 am Location: M303-M304 - Marriott (Length: 1 Hour)
(Tentative Panelists: Van Allen Plexico, Dr. Scott Viguié, Bobby Nash)

Van's Con/Festival Appearances - Summer/Fall 2015

I've been slack on letting everyone who is interested know when and where I will be in the weeks and months ahead. So here are my upcoming appearances at conventions and literary festivals through the rest of 2015:

AUGUST 1
HOOVER, AL (metro B'ham) Hoover Library
Sci Fi and Fantasy Festival
Bobby Nash and I will be doing panel discussions and the Barnes & Noble will have some of my books (including several of my most popular SF books and an AU book) for sale and for me to sign. This is a big library and we expect a good crowd.
Link for more info: http://www.hooverlibrary.org/sci-fi-fantasy

SEPTEMBER 3-7
ATLANTA, GA
DragonCon
The granddaddy of the Southeastern conventions. My 18th visit overall and 8th time as a guest. It looks to begin on Thursday night when I moderate the James Bond anniversary panel, and continue straight through till Monday afternoon.
Link for more info: http://www.dragoncon.org/

OCTOBER 2-4
COLLINSVILLE, IL (metro St Louis) Gateway Convention Center
Archon 
My tenth appearance as a guest of "the Midwest's premiere SF &
F event."
This year I'll have a booth in the Dealers' Hall and be selling lots of stuff besides my own books.
I also expect to be on a number of panels again with other great guests.
Link for more info: http://archonstl.org/index.html

OCTOBER 10-11
HUNTSVILLE, AL (Civic Center)
Rocket City Lit Fest
I'm a "Special Guest" of this brand new literary festival and it looks to be awesome. I will have a booth in the vendor area with all my books available including hardcovers.
Link for more info: http://www.rocketcitylitfest.com/

Civil War in the Executive Branch: A General Idea

Here's an interesting story idea that I will never write, but someone who does political thrillers might find worthwhile:

The President is given no power by the Constitution to remove a Vice-President from office. Unlike any other type of official appointed by the Prez, the V-P cannot be "fired." Only Congress can remove a V-P via impeachment process.

And Vice-Presidents have historically had their power limited in part by Congress (and other Cabinet heads) practically revolting when Presidents have even tried to delegate any real power or major projects to their V-P.

So-- what if you had a situation where the President and V-P had a political and/or personal falling-out, and the President became very controversial and unpopular with (maybe a newly elected) Congress (and maybe even with several of his/her own Cabinet officials)... and so the V-P, with the support of Congress and part of the Cabinet, started taking on more power and openly rebelling against the President?

The President would be stuck, at least until the end of the term (at which time he/she could simply not choose to have that person run with them again). Congress would refuse to impeach the V-P and the V-P could be up to all sorts of shenanigans.

You'd have a civil war inside the Executive Branch, with the V-P supported by the majority of the Legislative Branch.

Imagine, for example, a fictional version of Barack Obama as the President.... and imagine that Joe Biden turned out to be a sort of Ted Cruz in disguise. And that fact doesn't get revealed until a few months into the term, at the earliest. Oh the fun that could be had, story-wise...!

That's just sort of a jumping-off point. Do with that what you will.  But hurry up-- I want to read it!
--

Van Allen Plexico is an award-winning SF/adventure novelist and non-fiction writer and podcaster, as well as an associate professor of Political Science and History.

You can read Van's own interstellar saga of politics, religion and cosmic warfare in "The Shattering" from White Rocket Books, available here. The third volume of the Legion trilogy recently won Novel of the Year in the 2015 Pulp Factory Awards.

He's on Facebook as Van Allen Plexico. 
Follow him on Twitter:  @vanallenplexico

The "Missing Insurgency" of Babylon 5's Final Seasons

The "Missing Insurgency" of Babylon 5's Final Seasons
by Van Allen Plexico

One thing I think J Michael Straczynski got wrong--or at least didn't explore nearly enough--in the "President Clark/Earthwar" segment of the Babylon 5 storyline was the way that Earth basically welcomed Sheridan and his alien allies after they defeated Clark's military forces defending Earth and overthrew his regime at the end of the fourth season of the show (which aired 1993-1998). 

Considering at least two major factors, I think many (if not most) people living on Earth at the time would've been at least very skeptical if not downright hostile to Sheridan and company. Possibly skeptical enough to create an "insurgency" against Sheridan and his Earth allies that could've lingered for many years. 

Those factors are:

Factor 1) Earth had only recently suffered another attack from space by hostile forces in the form of the Minbari invasion, culminating at the Battle of the Line. That traumatic event occurred in 2248. Sheridan's campaign of "liberation" from Clark happened late in 2261, only thirteen years later. No matter who the attackers/liberators were, it's hard to imagine everyone or even a majority of the people on Earth switching over to their side against the Earth defense forces. 

It's not like Clark was making life hard for most people on Earth. Sure, he was giving aliens (and people who disagreed with him) a hard time, but it's not like he wrecked the economy (as far as we know) or instituted some deeply unpopular legislation or took the planet into a pointless war. As far as could be told, being a run-of-the-mill human living under Clark was not all that horrible in one's daily life--assuming one toed the Clark/Nightwatch line. (Of course, if you were an alien, or someone branded a "sympathizer"/"enemy of the state" or a political dissident, things were infinitely worse for you.)

So it's difficult to imagine a huge number of people rallying to the Sheridan banner under those circumstances--especially when Sheridan's invasion must have actually appeared to many people on Earth to be proving Clark correct in his prophesies about the aliens "coming to get us!" And speaking of the perceptions of the people of Earth with regard to Sheridan v. Clark, that takes us to:

Factor 2) President Clark had his very own "FOX News" at his disposal, beaming out pro-Clark, anti-Sheridan propaganda 24/7. Or at least he did after his jackbooted security forces stormed the ISN building and arrested all the honest and neutral (read: anti-Clark) journalists who worked there. 

Surely some portion of the Earth's population--and likely a very substantial portion--would've been all too willing and eager to buy into the Big Lie and the Easy Answer (Sheridan is evil; aliens cause all our problems), especially with (what was apparently) the only major news outlet on the planet (ISN) beaming out that message round-the-clock. Even after Sheridan's victory over Clark, there still should've been a vast number of humans who were utterly convinced that John Sheridan and his army represented an evil, conquering force that should be resisted unto death.

Instead, as we saw, Sheridan's forces were actually "greeted as liberators" (to borrow the words of a guy who, like Clark, was at one point an ambitious Earth vice-president, and who also helped lead an invasion under the stated banner of liberation-- Dick Cheney). It was as if the entire populace of the planet cast aside everything they'd been told about Sheridan and his compatriots in an instant, once Clark was dead and his forces were defeated. Cheney could only wish things had gone so smoothly in Iraq.

Furthermore, in the episode "The Deconstruction of Falling Stars," we see a later era in which Sheridan is debated by a roundtable of several supposedly influential members of the media--and debated not in terms of whether Sheridan and his actions were "good or bad," but whether he deserved all the credit history had given him. In other words, "Just how great of a hero was he really?" and not "Was he a hero at all, or a villain?" 

Surely ISN could've found at least one unreconstructed Clarkist (Clarkite? Clarkian?) who would've been thrilled to argue that, to borrow the phrasing of Delenn on that episode, "Morgan Clark was a good man" and then added, "that alien sympathizer Sheridan with his extra-constitutional invasion caused all these problems we face today." Not only would that have been fun and interesting to see-- it would've been very likely for some if not many to hold that belief. (Even in a society with apparently only one news media outlet! Yes, we are looking at you, ISN. Of course we are. You're the only channel on our future-TV, apparently. Thank goodness you're "Fair and Balanced!")

It may have been that JMS simply didn't have room or time to explore this aspect of the story. Still, one feels he might have dropped at least one or two references to it into the series or the spinoffs or at least into the tie-in novels that came afterward--particularly the Psi Corps or Centauri novels by Greg Keyes and Peter David.

Perhaps one day someone will novelize the entire Babylon 5 saga from start to finish, in a Game of Thrones-sized series of books, and the situation on the home front can finally be given the attention it deserves. And perhaps our own experiences in the years since Babylon 5 was produced can inform that story and make it even more true-to-life than it already was.
-
 
Van Allen Plexico is an award-winning SF/adventure novelist and non-fiction writer and podcaster, as well as an associate professor of Political Science and History.

You can read Van's own interstellar saga of politics, religion and cosmic warfare in "The Shattering" from White Rocket Books, available here. The third volume of the Legion trilogy recently won Novel of the Year in the 2015 Pulp Factory Awards.

He's on Facebook as Van Allen Plexico. 
Follow him on Twitter:  @vanallenplexico

The Shattering: Chronology Chart

The "Shattering" saga represents everything from science fiction that I have always loved, combined in one massive web of interconnected series. These books and stories include everything from Kirby-esque cosmic space-gods to Warhammer 40K-esque massive colossus walkers and Baen-style futuristic military combat to Dune-style far-future universe-building with political and religious systems and hierarchies.

All of that, of course, is the tapestry against which our very (mostly) human heroes and their (human and alien and godlike) villains engage with one another, while the galaxy burns all around them.

The series stands at five novels and one novella thus far, as of summer 2015. Those works are included in the chart below.

Here's a quick and handy annotated overview of the "eras" of the Shattering saga's universe, along with where each of the existing (or soon to exist) books and stories fit into it.

This is therefore a chronological listing according to the internal timeline of the story.

(No real spoilers here. Spoiler details for the various books and stories have been omitted. This is intended as a general reference chart when attempting to place the various works in the proper order.)

+++++

(The age before Mankind goes into space)

FIRST PAX MACHINA

(Unexplained collapse of Pax Machina)

(Mankind gains limited interstellar space travel)

FIRST TERRAN EMPIRE

(Mankind colonizes and establishes the Seven Worlds)

(Mankind loses interstellar space travel)

FIRST DARK AGE

(Mankind regains interstellar travel)

(War among the Seven Worlds)

* Baranak: Storming the Gates (forthcoming)

SECOND TERRAN EMPIRE

(Demon invasions)

(Collapse of Second Terran Empire)

(Rise of the Terran Alliance and the Outer Worlds)

TERRAN ALLIANCE

* Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming

(Collapse of galactic civilization)

SECOND DARK AGE

(Rise of the Young Empires)

THE YOUNG EMPIRES

* Legion I: Lords of Fire

* The Legion Chronicles 1: Cold Lightning

* The Legion Chronicles 2: Red Colossus (forthcoming)

* Legion II: Sons of Terra

* Legion III: Kings of Oblivion

(The Twilight War)

SECOND PAX MACHINA

* Falcon: Revolt Against the Machine (forthcoming)

(The Great Revolt)

* Legion IV -- ? (forthcoming)

(The Shattering event)

SHATTERED GALAXY

* Hawk: Hand of the Machine

* Hawk 2 -- ? (forthcoming)

+++++

Next time I'll present a list based more on "order the stories were written/suggested reading order(s)."

You can find all these books (for the Kindle and in paperback and hardcover) at the White Rocket Books site:  http://www.whiterocketbooks.com  and on Amazon.com, or through your local bookstore.

Van's Thirty Favorite Films of All Time list, updated May 2015

My completely revised and updated Top Thirty Favorite Movies list,
as of May 2015:

1. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
2. Star Wars
3. Avengers: Age of Ultron
4. Avengers
5. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
6. Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World
7. The 13th Warrior
8. Casablanca
9. Last of the Mohicans
10. Ice Station Zebra

11. Gandhi
12. Babe
13. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (US)
12. Serenity
13. Star Trek: The Motion Picture
14. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
15. Lawrence of Arabia
16. Dead Again
17. Ocean's 11 (2001)
18. Payback
19. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
20. Henry V (1989)

21. The Crow
22. North by Northwest
23. Die Hard
24. V for Vendetta
25. Captain America: Winter Soldier
26. Thor: The Dark World
27. Cloud Atlas
28. Iron Man
29. Thor
30. John Carter

Just missed the cut:
Gladiator
Highlander
Patton
LA Confidential

BE SURE TO PICK UP OUR UNAUTHORIZED GUIDES TO MARVEL'S AVENGERS:
ASSEMBLED! and ASSEMBLED! 2
http://www.whiterocketbooks.com/index_assembled.htm

A quick, early scene from BARANAK: STORMING THE GATES

[Here is a brief, first-draft scene from my upcoming novel in the Shattering series and the Above series, BARANAK: STORMING THE GATES. I'll leave it at that and let it speak for itself. Hope you enjoy.  --Van]


Scarcely had I passed through the opening of the cave before complete darkness surrounded me and swallowed me up. The entrance itself didn't entirely vanish, but it seemed to recede to the point that it was now far away in the distance, as though it would take quite a bit of a walk to reach it and leave the cave. This made me feel extremely uncomfortable and I turned, facing back in that direction. I contemplated leaving immediately.

Then a warm breeze blew past me, gravel crunched, and voice echoed out of the void at my back: "Greetings."

"Who's there?" I called, turning. My pistol was out and in my hand.

Only darkness, all about me.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "What do you want?"

"You have a strange manner," the voice said after a few seconds. It was smooth and low, deep and rich, and it held an unmistakable edge of menace. "You come uninvited into my home and seek to interrogate me. Is this what passes for civilized behavior among your kind?"

The warm air wafted by again, as from the bellows of some mighty forge. It smelled sour. I began to suspect that it might be breath.

"You are quite right," I said, still searching the darkness, hoping my eyes would adjust faster and give me any indication of who--or what--I was dealing with. "My apologies. I did not intend to intrude or trespass."

"Then why came you here, if not intentionally?"

"I was directed here by a--by an acquaintance," I said. "I was told I might find answers."

"Ah," the voice said. "Yes. That is entirely possible. Or," it added after a brief pause, "you might find something else. Other things entirely."

"Perhaps I am supposed to ask you my questions?" I said after a brief silence.

The warm air again, pungent and moist. My nose wrinkled involuntarily and I turned my head slightly to one side, seeking to avoid breathing it in.

"You could," the voice said. "I would not object in principle." A pause, and then, "Of course, understand that if I do not like your questions, you will not be leaving my domain, my world. You will be consumed."

This took me aback. Not the threat--that seemed almost de rigeur. But--"Your world? This world I've come to--it belongs to you?"

"This world. Here. This pocket universe, I believe the Dyonari call it. It is my world."

I had no idea what any of that meant. I looked around and could see nothing but darkness. Even the cave mouth had now vanished. "Ah, yes." I nodded, and I'm afraid the sarcasm was clear in my voice as I added, "And a lovely world it is."

"Talk like that will lead to the consumption I referenced in my previous utterance."

"Sorry."

"Yes, yes. Now--the questions, eh? I will allow... two, to start. More if I feel so inclined after those. And if you have not yet been consumed."

What was this creature? How could it possibly answer the questions that plagued me? It all seemed ludicrous. And yet, so did everything else that had occurred in the time since I'd taken Comet and ridden into the night. Again--what had I to lose?

I nodded in the darkness. "Very well." I kept the blast pistol ready as I searched my mind for the most efficient single question I could ask. For a moment my thoughts were a jumble, and I could hear impatient-sounding gravel-crunching from a short distance away. Then my thoughts snapped almost miraculously into clear focus. I said, "Why was my father killed?"

I anticipated counter-questions such as, "Who exactly was your father?" or "How the hell should I know? I'm just a creature living in a cave slash pocket universe." But the voice uttered neither of those things. Instead it issued no sounds whatsoever, for a time long enough that I began to suspect it had slinked back into the depths of its cave--its mini-universe, if it was to be believed. I was just about to give up and begin walking in the direction I hoped led back to the entrance, when: "I cannot say with absolute certainty, but in all likelihood it was because he might have actually succeeded."

I might have taken an involuntary step backwards; certainly my jaw dropped open. Blinking rapidly, I closed my mouth and sought words. At last I found a few.

"Succeeded in what?"

The creature--if creature it was--issued a sort of groan. "Are you sure you want that to be your second question? Because I find it boring, and it will probably be your last."

"No--no, not at all," I said quickly. "I was simply musing out loud. I have a better second question, of course."

"Ah. Excellent."

And then I faltered and mentally cast about--for of course at that moment my mind became a blank canvas and I an artist bereft of all paints and brushes.

*****

That was a brief scene from the upcoming BARANAK: STORMING THE GATES.
If you enjoyed it, you will probably very much like the novel to which it is a sort of prequel: LUCIAN: DARK GOD'S HOMECOMING. Many, many readers have enjoyed it.
You can find it here, in paperback and on Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/Lucian-Homecoming-Van-Allen-Plexico/dp/0615606423

Thanks for reading. (BARANAK should be along later this year.)

Re-Ranking the Marvel Cinematic Universe Movies After Avengers: Age of Ultron

Here is my current personal ranking of the Top Ten Marvel Cinematic Universe films, post-Avengers: Age of Ultron:

1. Avengers: Age of Ultron
Several issues of an epic run of my old-time favorite comic book come to full life on the screen. Astonishing how high Marvel has raised the bar on what we expect from their movies in a decade or so.

2. Avengers
Better than any of the others, but "less" than A:AOU in nearly every measurable way (other than number of Loki jokes, obviously).

3. Guardians of the Galaxy
I love everything about this movie except the way the Nova Corps is portrayed and handled, and the way the Collector was used. The Xandar stuff sort of disappointed me. But the Celestials stuff and the Infinity Gems stuff make up for it. And Groot and Rocket are priceless.

4. Captain America: The Winter Soldier
A mini-Avengers movie. It says a lot about how great the top three are, that this movie is only at number 4. Because it is excellent.

5. Thor: The Dark World
Better than the first Thor in most ways. Bigger, bolder, more fun. My main disappointment was that the fantastic Christopher Eccleston didn't get to do more, or be more expressive.

6. Thor
My favorite of the first run of solo origin movies. So very Kirby/Simonson!

7. Iron Man
Seems so "small" now, after everything that has come since. But it is so much fun. And after waiting a lifetime, I finally got to see my favorite character come to life. And instantly go from "third tier" to the biggest Marvel hero of all. I still can't fathom that. (You couldn't FIND an Iron Man toy when I was a kid and wanted them!!)

8. Iron Man 2
Lots of plot problems (and villain problems) but the fun that Downey and Sam Rockwell have in it makes up for quite a bit.

9. Captain America: The First Avenger
Chris Evans hadn't sold me on his portrayal of Cap yet. (Does he ever do so later!) And the Red Skull is criminally (no pun intended) underused here.

10. The Incredible Hulk
No, the prison video from the Thor 2 Blu Ray notwithstanding, I still haven't forgiven Iron Man 3.

Some of the GOOD parts--! Excerpt from LEGION I: LORDS OF FIRE, by Van Allen Plexico

EXCERPTED FROM 
THE SHATTERING, 
LEGION I: LORDS OF FIRE
by Van Allen Plexico
from White Rocket Books

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Legion-Lords-Fire-Shattering-Book-ebook/dp/B00B6T21TM
Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Legion-Lords-Fire-New-Shattering/dp/0692021426/

  The entire party stood only a short distance away from the eye, that great gash sliced into the fabric of reality, and stared up at it with a mixture of awe and trepidation.  Beyond just its disturbing appearance, it seemed to radiate an almost palpable sense of danger, of menace—like the eye of some horrific predator, waiting to pounce.  It gave even a hardened soldier like Tamerlane the chills.  He tried to look away from it, but found it kept drawing his attention back to it.  In this universe of swirling fog and dim, pale light, there was nowhere else to look.

“Through there?” the Inquisitor asked, his bloodshot eyes flashing toward Tamerlane.  “You’re saying the Emperor passed through that—that blasphemy?”  He didn’t seem to truly believe it.

Tamerlane motioned again to Keefe, who held the small tracking device up before her face and turned in a slow circle.  Once she’d completed a single rotation, she lowered it again and nodded to the colonel.

“If His Majesty found the level of the Above we’re in now not exciting enough—and how could he not, since all this gray fog is so exciting—then I could very easily see him continuing on to a different level,” the colonel stated, “regardless of whatever assurances he made.”

“The Emperor is quite…headstrong, yes,” Stanishur reluctantly agreed.  “But, even so—” His gaze returned to the eye before them and he shuddered.  His two assistants exchanged troubled glances.

“The walls of our universe were determined to be thinnest at the location where the Emperor’s yacht was stationed—above NM-156,” Nakamura explained.  “It follows that the walls between this part of the Above and those levels even higher would also be thinner here.”

“That they might even be torn in places,” Tamerlane added, nodding toward the eye.

The Inquisitor blinked, taking this information in, then looked back at the eye, his expression still conveying great dislike and distrust of the phenomenon.

“So the Emperor hadn’t found the sword yet, maybe, and he got bored with all the fog here, and simply kept going—right through there,” Tamerlane concluded.  “It’s either that, or else someone… or something… came along and gave him no choice in the matter.”

“Let’s hold off on idle speculation for now, Colonel,” Nakamura interjected.  He was already walking toward the eye.  “Come on, everyone.  We know what we have to do.  Let’s keep moving.”

Somewhat reluctantly, or at least with less enthusiasm than up until now, the rest of the party followed him.  The three Inquisitors came last, and their discomfort was obvious and profound.

When he reached the threshold of the eye, Nakamura turned back and addressed the team.

“I don’t plan on traveling too far on the other side, wherever it might be,” he said, his calm and even voice in stark contrast to the malignant red swirl of the eye. 

Tamerlane and the others nodded readily at that.

“Alright,” the general said, his jaw firm and his expression one of resolved determination, “here we go.”

He stepped into the black pupil of the eye, and the darkness swallowed him up.  Less than a second later, he was gone.

Tamerlane repressed a shudder, then started to follow after him. 

Nakamura’s tether wire dropped to the ground, cleanly severed.

Tamerlane shouted a profanity and rushed forward.  Before he could cover the three additional steps between himself and the eye, however, a shape formed within the black and separated itself, moving out into the pale light.

It was Nakamura.  His face was drenched in sweat, and he was not happy.

“What happened?” he demanded, before Tamerlane could ask the same of him.  “Who cut my cable?  And what’s been keeping you?”

Tamerlane was taken aback.  He glanced quickly at the others, then down at the severed end of the cable on the ground, then back at Nakamura, who was fuming.

“General—what do you mean?  You only just—”

“I waited for more than a minute, but no one else came through, so I started back—but the opening on the other side is different,” he said, his voice strained and angry.  “The eye there—it’s not an eye.  Just a kind of doorway.  And it drifts around.  With my cable cut, I had to chase it.  And the sounds…”  He shuddered.

Tamerlane paled.  This was not like Nakamura—not like the virtually fearless soldier that Tamerlane had sworn his allegiance to as a young boy.  Nakamura had been all but a father to him for the better part of his life, and never once in that time had he seen the man so unnerved.

“The time differential,” Ling interjected.  “Time must move faster on the other side.”

“No,” Keefe argued, shaking her head.  “We’re in the Above.  Time moves slower.  Passing into an even higher level should only make time slow down even further—not speed up, as the general experienced.”

Tamerlane scratched at his chin, considering what they were saying.  He looked at Nakamura again, and was relieved to see that the man had calmed himself somewhat.

“I take it there was no sign of the Emperor and his party,” Inquisitor Stanishur stated as he and his two assistants moved up alongside the others.

“No,” Nakamura answered, “but I didn’t have the tracker with me.”

“Then what do we do now, sir?” Keefe asked.

Nakamura breathed deeply of the strange not-air through which they all moved, then nodded toward the eye.  “We go through,” he said.  “Together.  All at once.”

The three Inquisitors made holy signs with their hands.

“What about your wire, General?” Tamerlane asked, nodding toward the few inches of severed end dangling from Nakamura’s belt.

“Since I assume no one here cut it,” Nakamura replied, “I’m guessing the eye did it.  I’d guess that’s what happened with the Emperor’s wires, too.”

“We should detach them,” Tamerlane suggested.  “Leave them on this side.”

No one objected audibly, but the looks exchanged by more than one of the others clearly displayed their feelings about such an idea.

“No, no,” Nakamura said quickly, seeing the discontent brewing within his team.  “The colonel is quite right.  We would lose them anyway.  Better to leave them here, anchored somehow, so that we will have them when we return.” 

As the others somewhat reluctantly began to disconnect their wires and passed the ends to Tamerlane, who was using a tie cable to bind them together neatly, Nakamura stopped Torval from detaching his from his belt.  “You remain here with the wires,” he said to the lieutenant.  “We’re going to need you to maintain the connection and show us the way back out.”

If there were objections to that plan, no one voiced them.  Thus, moments later, the entire group—minus Torval—was gathered tightly together, directly in front of the black tear in reality.

“Hold hands,” the general ordered.  “Everyone.”

Each member of the group awkwardly reached out and clasped the hand of the person on either side.  Once that was accomplished, Nakamura gave the order and they all walked into the darkness.

Disorientation; disconnect.  A sense of falling.  Equilibrium gone.  Stumbling into one other.  The world turned upside down.

Through.  Out the other side.

Darkness.

Tamerlane felt the person to his right—Keefe—going down to her knees, wobbly, and pulled her back up.  The human chain never broke.

He looked up then, at their utterly different surroundings, and more disorientation followed.  He reeled; the gray fog of the previous environment had been replaced by a nightmare vista of bold colors, all swirling about madly.  He felt as if he’d been dropped into a bucket of paint—a bucket where all the different shades were being mixed together slowly.  The very atmosphere around them felt wet; not wet with simple humidity, but thick and dense as if actually comprised of water.  Their movements were sluggish, too, as though they were deep under the sea.  And the sounds—like hundreds or thousands of voices, echoing endlessly, forming no understandable words yet conveying an overwhelming sense of bleak uneasiness.

Nakamura had already turned around and was pointing back in the direction from which they’d come.  Tamerlane looked and, sure enough, on this side of the tear there was no eye.  Instead he was looking at a solid black rectangle, perhaps five meters high and three wide.  It didn’t stay in one place but seemed to shift about, ever so subtly, as though drifting in the currents of some dark ocean.

Nakamura grasped Ling by the arm and pointed at the doorway.  “Your job now is to keep that thing in sight at all times,” he growled.  “Do you understand?”

Ling nodded.  “Absolutely, General.”

Approaching Keefe, Nakamura demanded, “What does it tell you now?”

The young woman already had the square tracking device held up and was turning slowly.  “That way,” she said, pointing into the nightmare swirl of colors.  “The signal is much stronger now.”

“Good.”  He motioned to the others.  “Let’s move.”

With Torval waiting back on the other side of the eye and Ling remaining behind on their side of it, the party was now reduced to seven: Nakamura and Tamerlane, Keefe and Landau, and the three Inquisitors.  With Keefe in the lead, the tracker held up where she could keep one eye on it, they marched into the depths.

“Radiation levels are much higher here, General,” reported Landau after only a few steps, his voice filled with concern.  “And the kinds I’m picking up—I have no idea if our shields are able to protect us from it.”

“Not our main problem at the moment, Lieutenant.”

“But, sir—this could kill us within a few hours!”

“Then that’s a matter for a few hours. Our concern at the moment is locating the Emperor and bringing him back.”  He motioned ahead.  “Keep going!”

They walked on for several minutes in silence, with only those awful disembodied voices to keep them company.  Tamerlane was looking around in wonder, his eyes repeatedly drawn to the swirling, cascading layers of color that they were passing through—and that he wasn’t entirely convinced wasn’t passing through them, too.  Something about it bothered him on a deep, instinctual level.  It was as if the entire environment had been poisoned by some foul and alien presence.  The longer his eyes dwelt on the swirling colors around them, the more he felt he could perceive faces within, staring back out at him.  Staring with malevolent intent.  It made no sense on a rational level, but a powerful feeling of hostility directed at him and the rest of the party grew stronger within his mind with every step they took.

“Are you alright, Ezekial?” Nakamura asked, after glancing back at him and seeing the extreme discomfort reflected on his face.

“Yes, General,” he replied, sobering.  “There’s just something about this place—”

“I know,” Nakamura said.  “It’s hot, for one thing.”  Sweat was again trailing down the sides of his face.

Tamerlane nodded.  The heat had built slowly, from the moment they’d crossed over, and now it was starting to get to him, too.  “But, beyond that, there’s something…”

“This is no part of the Above I’ve ever heard about,” Landau observed, frowning deeply.

Tamerlane couldn’t have agreed more.  He looked back at Stanishur and his two young assistants.  “What about you, Inquisitor?  Does scripture speak of this place?”

The cadaverous man was looking all around, his expression more dour than usual.  “I—I cannot say,” he reported finally.  “Certainly it does not match my own understanding of the nature of the Above, but I am only a mere mortal, and cannot—”

“Let’s stay focused,” Nakamura interrupted.  “We find the Emperor and the Guard, and we drag them all back out of here.  That’s it.  We can leave the theological implications of bad weather in the Above to the Ecclesiarchy to sort out at a later date.”

“There is another possible explanation,” Stanishur intoned from behind them.  “Though it is not one I truly care to consider.”

The soldiers all turned to face him.

The gaunt figure in black gestured toward the eye.  “Taken along with the time flow problem—time should move slower here than outside, not faster—I am beginning to suspect that we are no longer in the Above at all.”

The others all frowned, some of them glancing at one another.

“What?” Keefe asked, puzzled.

“Then where else could we be?” Landau chimed in.

“Of course,” Tamerlane said, nodding slowly.  “I think I’ve known it all along.”  He turned to Nakamura then.  “And I think you have, too.”

The general only nodded.  “It doesn’t matter, though,” he growled.  “We have a job to do.  For the Emperor.  So we keep going until we find him.”

“Wait,” Keefe said, her eyes widening and panic creeping into her voice.  “You—you’re saying this isn’t the Above?  Then—you’re saying we’re in the Below?”

Stanishur reached out with a bony hand and laid it on her arm; it was a surprisingly tender gesture from the dour Inquisitor.

“That is correct,” he said.  “That eye through which we passed—it was no tear in the layers of the Above.  I was right in calling it a blasphemy, but it was something much, much worse than that.”  He faced the others, his eyes burning and his teeth gritted.  “It was the gateway to Hell.”

Someone groaned.  Others unholstered their weapons.

“General,” Landau said, his voice frantic, “we’ve got to get out of here!”

“Have you forgotten that your Emperor is down here somewhere?” Nakamura barked back.  “We can’t leave him.  We have to find him—before something else does.”

Keefe screamed.  Tamerlane whirled about, looking to where she was pointing.

Something was coming through the swirl of colors, emerging into the open where they all could see it.

Keefe’s gun was in her hand.  She fired.

“Wait!” shouted Nakamura, surely wanting to be cautious—but, an instant later, they could all see that the time for caution was past.  More shapes were emerging all around them, closing in.

Hideous shapes.

The first one solidified into a snake-form, almost transparent and glowing from multiple eerie light sources deep inside its repulsive body.  It moved forward rapidly, closing on Keefe.  Whatever it was, her shots didn’t seem to bother it—and now it had formed teeth.  Many teeth.

Screaming, Keefe fired again, while next to her Tamerlane raised his heavy quad-rifle and opened fire as well, using two of the barrels—one firing high-velocity slugs, the other a particle-beam cannon.  The creature roared in anger and perhaps in pain, though the full effect of their efforts was hard to tell, given its amorphous body.

Now the other shapes solidified into monstrous forms and advanced from all around them.

“Demons!” Landau cried, and nobody contradicted him.  “Demons of the Below!”

EXCERPTED FROM THE SHATTERING, LEGION I: LORDS OF FIRE
by Van Allen Plexico

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Legion-Lords-Fire-Shattering-Book-ebook/dp/B00B6T21TM
Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Legion-Lords-Fire-New-Shattering/dp/0692021426/

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop

I got tagged by Ian Thomas Healy for this, and it seems like a good idea.  Here are The Rules.

Answer these ten questions about your current WIP (Work In Progress) on your blog.  Tag five writers/bloggers and add links to their pages so we can hop along to them next. 

I'll tag:  Mark Bousquet, James Palmer, Bobby Nash, Sean Taylor, and Ian Watson.

Okay--here we go:

Ten Interview Questions for The Next Big Thing:

What is the working title of your book?
Sentinels Vol. 7: Metalgod

Where did the idea come from for the book?

First--the idea for the title came from learning that the (mostly awful) movie “Rock Star” was based on a book or story called “Metal God,” which is a reference to what heavy metal musicians that become huge celebrities are sometimes called.  I got to thinking about that title and decided that it would make a great name for a supervillain in a superhero-type story.

The idea for the story came from wanting to have the Sentinels face a very menacing villain who turns out to be both more and less than he first seems.

What genre does your book fall under?

The Superhero Prose Fiction corner of New Pulp.  It also touches on Space Opera—as do all of my Sentinels novels—but that’s mainly because superhero stories have always been adept at bridging the divides between street-level action and grandiose cosmic space opera (think of an average issue of Avengers or Fantastic Four, for instance).

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Ultraa is very similar, in physical appearance, to Captain America—so see any list of “actors who should’ve played Cap instead of Chris Evans.”  Lyn (Pulsar) could be played by any talented Asian-American young woman in her teens or early twenties.  Esro Brachis would probably be the toughest to cast because of his more complex character and personality.  (Interestingly, it seems like the Tony Stark we see on the screen, portrayed by Robert Downey, Jr, is much more like Esro than he is like comic book Tony Stark!)

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Pulsar and her newly-recruited Sentinels face a deadly and enigmatic foe on Earth, while Brachis and Mondrian cross the galaxy to attempt to avert a Kur-Bai civil war!

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

From 2008-2012, Sentinels books were published by Swarm Press, an imprint of Permuted Press, a noted zombie/apocalyptic fiction publisher.  In summer of this year, White Rocket Books took over publishing rights.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I’ve been working on this one, on and off, for a year now.  I’m hoping to push to the conclusion in the next couple of months.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

The Sentinels books always have an “Avengers” and “Justice League” feel, but I think this one in particular has a little “Thunderbolts” flavor, as well.

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

All the classic comics stories I’ve read over the years.  And of course now that I know the Sentinels characters so well, they inspire me to keep up with what they’re doing.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Start with SENTINELS Vol. 1: WHEN STRIKES THE WARLORD.  It all begins there.  It’s the first volume in the opening trilogy, “The Grand Design.”  Then comes the big “Galactus-level threat” trilogy, “The Rivals.” This new book, METALGOD, is the opening chapter in the third trilogy, which is called “Order Above All.”  If you like superhero action in the tradition of the Avengers, colorful characters, cosmic outer space adventure, tons of characters (good, bad, and in between), and an ongoing storyline of epic proportions, you will love this series.

Current Projects

Some other writers have posted this sort of thing lately, and I don't mind jumping on the bandwagon when it's a good bandwagon.  So here's a quick look at what I have going on right now:

My current writing and editing projects, listed in order of priority to finish.  Includes progress to date and estimated time of publication, if known:

1.  SENTINELS Vol. 7: WORLDMIND (novel)  - 40,000 words complete - Nov or Dec 2012

2.  THE SHATTERING, Legion 1: LORDS OF FIRE  -  40,000 words complete - January 2013

3.  SENTINELS (Omnibus 2): THE RIVALS  -  Complete; awaiting cover - Winter 2013

4.  DECADES OF DOMINANCE: AUBURN FOOTBALL IN THE MODERN ERA  (with John Ringer)  -  85% complete  -  Spring 2013

After these four, I'm looking ahead to continuing the BRAND project I first mentioned yesterday, plus a new (secret) anthology I have cooking, plus the next BLACKTHORN anthology, plus another appearance by GIDEON CAIN.  And of course in the wake of HAWK's success, we will be seeing FALCON and RAVEN in their own books, continuing the "Shattered Galaxy" saga.

And of course 2013 will see the second volume in this new Sentinels trilogy, Vol. 8 overall:  THE DARK CRUSADE.

Completed projects awaiting publication include a 45,000-word novel (for Airship 27), a 15,000-word novella (for Pro Se Productions) and a 15,000-word novella (for New Babel Books).

There you go-- way more than I should have said in public.  But now you have a pretty good idea of what I'm working on and what I'd like to see done and out to my readers by the end of next year, if all goes well. 

To order copies of any of my books on Kindle or for Nook or in paperback, simply visit http://www.plexico.net

Thanks!
--Van

BRAND

This just came to me out of nowhere about half an hour ago, and I had no choice but to write it.  See if you can tell what it's about and where it's going!  --Van

 BRAND

Chapter 1

Brand pulled the segmented metal door up and shoved it into its open overhead position, then gazed down at the collection of futuristic laser guns, particle beam weapons, grenades, smart flyers, hoverbombs, drones, and racks of ammunition that filled the little storage unit.  He looked it over once, then nodded his head.  He did not smile.

Turning back in the direction he’d come, he allowed himself a slight wince at the pain radiating from the searing injury he’d suffered a short time earlier.  The radium laser round had mostly bounced off the surface of his deflector suit, but the power level had been sufficient and the range close enough that a significant portion of the blast had gotten through and gouged out a chunk of his side, just below the ribs.  The pain was bad enough—though his suit had by now pumped something like a gallon of painkillers into his system—but he didn’t even want to think about what the radium charge on it was doing to his internal organs.  He needed to get into the med-coffin right away.  Unfortunately, he had too much else to do before he could indulge in such luxuries.

Growling softly at the pain that flared up as he turned back toward the storage unit, he reached in and detached a quad rifle and a blast pistol from the racks of weapons, along with sufficient charges and ammunition to see him through the job that lay ahead.  He held both weapons up, one after the other, inspecting them carefully before sliding the pistol into his empty holster and setting the rifle against the outside wall next to the door.  He also grabbed some fresh clothes, all in black, along with a hoverdisk and a force-sphere generator.  Lastly he took a new deflector suit—one that didn’t currently sport a six-inch-wide hole in the left side.

Satisfied, Brand stepped back and reached for the overhead door.  He pulled it back down, closed it securely, and locked it in place.

It took him longer than he would have liked to change out of the old suit and clothes and into the new ones.  The pain was growing more severe by the moment.  He shrugged it off.  Nothing more to be done about it for now.

The new clothes in place and the weapons secured to his person, Brand walked a dozen yards to the intersection at the end of the short aisle he’d occupied.  Rounding the corner, he stared down a corridor at least a hundred yards long.  Clean and pristine white were the walls, floor, and ceiling, with the gray rectangular outlines around the doors the only color breaking up the image.  The doors were different from the overhead garage-style one he’d just closed, too—these were standard, eight-foot-tall jobs with brass knobs.

He started forward.  Doors went by on left and right; none of them revealed any markings at all.  It didn’t matter; he knew which one he was looking for.

A few more steps and he stood before his objective: Just another white door, unmarked like all the others.  But he knew it was the one.  Drawing his pistol in his right hand, he reached out with his left and seized the knob.  He turned it and the door swung open onto a nightscape blinding in intensity and flooded with sounds of blaring electronic music and shouts.

His eyes narrowed.  He hated confusion, noise, distractions.  Hated those things with a passion. 

But this was where he needed to be.  Where he had a very particular job to do.  It was time, he knew, to get to it.

He checked his pistol once more, then stepped through the doorway into another time and place.  The door to his own world swung soundlessly closed behind him.

Excerpt from HAWK: Hand of the Machine
by Van Allen Plexico
Coming June 2012 in paperback and e-book from White Rocket Books
http://www.whiterocketbooks.com
 

Raven’s eyes flickered open.

Deep, dark, nearly black eyes, they moved in quick little jumps, from left to right, up to down.  Behind those eyes, however, Raven’s mind was only just awakening, just beginning to try to make sense of the scene before her.

Where am I?

She had scarcely more than two full seconds to study her environment before the assault began.

This is what she saw:

She was in a dank, dimly-lit chamber.  A broad, round, open space in the center of the floor and the corresponding wide gap in the ceiling revealed that the entire complex was constructed of multiple levels.  She was standing against a metal slab of some sort which projected out very close to the edge of the hole in the floor of her level.  Wires and tubes lay coiled all around, ultimately connecting to wall sockets on either side of her.  No other living being was visible anywhere.  Through the gap in the ceiling, the room appeared to go up and up into the dark distance; as her eyes flickered downward, a similar sense came to her from that direction.

Those impressions were formed quickly; she had no additional time to study her surroundings.  For at that moment she was assaulted from within and without.

First came the mental invasion:  Information flooded into her mind with the force of a torrent, taking her legs out from under her and sprawling her on the cold metal floor.

Get up, boomed a voice that echoed through her head.  Quickly.  There is danger here.

Raven wasted no time in questioning the voice—who it was, where it had come from, or why it was speaking to her.  She reacted instantly, springing up onto her feet with catlike agility and taking four quick steps forward.  As she ran, the wire that had been connected to the back of her head popped loose.  She ignored this, though a part of her consciousness noted that the wave of information assaulting her mind ceased.

A second attack came hard on the heels of the first.  This one was physical, signaled by metal ringing sounds echoing up from where she had just been standing.  Ricochets from gunfire, she knew at once.  Someone was shooting at her.

Moving instinctively, she ducked and rolled, sprang upwards, soared out over the abyssal drop-off, and grasped a projecting metal bar with both hands.  Continuing her momentum forward, she swung upward, somersaulted, and with all the skills of a great gymnast, landed gracefully on the metal latticework flooring, one level higher and on the opposite side of the chamber.

Surely, she thought, that would throw off the attacker—at least, long enough for her to assess her tactical situation.

And she knew with complete certainty that she was quite adept at assessing tactical situations.  The torrent of information that had flooded into her brain in the split second before she’d moved into action was slowly resolving itself into accessible knowledge, and that knowledge included the fact that she was a Raven, an internal affairs operative for the Machine.  A quick glance down at her uniform—tight red material with blue trim and a low, green collar—confirmed this.  As such, she more than possessed the power and skills to protect herself—and to bring all hell to her enemy, wherever that person might be lurking.

Her supreme confidence served her well, driving her forward with a single-minded determination.  She clung to the shadows—the darkest depths of the already dark chamber—and moved quietly, stealthily. 

For several moments only a deathly silence reigned; naught but the drip-drip of water from some hidden source far above as it fell down through the openings to land far below, and the soft tinkling of chains that dangled from a piece of heavy machinery set into the wall above and to her left.

Then the enemy struck.  A barrage of gunfire from some sort of automatic slug-thrower gun raked the wall just over her head as she crouched in darkness.  She sprung out, body extending and then tucking in tight as she landed near the edge of the hole in the floor.  Another spray of bullets sent sparks flying past her head and vibrated the floor.  She gripped the metal latticework beneath her with both hands and swung out, her back to the void as she pivoted and dropped down.

The blinding flash of laser or energy-beam weaponry dazzled her vision but she held on until her momentum had carried her in a tight arc back over the floor of the section beneath her.  Letting go then, she performed a mid-air spin with her arms tight to her body before landing in a crouch.

Silence all around.  Silence—but she could feel it now.  The enemy was near.  Approaching, approaching…

Pitching forward, she caught herself on the floor with her left hand, spun around and lashed out with her right foot, bringing tremendous force to bear.

Her foot struck something—struck it hard—but whatever it was, it did not yield to the force of her blow.  Raven staggered back from the force of impact, dropping onto her seat, then sprang upward just before a massive fist from the shadows smashed down onto the spot she had just occupied.

Bullets sprayed out at her again from the darkness, and only her astonishing gymnastic ability prevented her from becoming perforated.  She leapt and spun and dived and twisted and somehow managed to stay a half-step ahead of the fearsome attack.

And even as she moved, her eyes snuck occasional quick glances in the direction of her foe.  Though he’d never once emerged fully from the shadows, she had gotten the impression that he was big—very big—and covered in some sort of armor.  Clearly he was armed with a variety of weapons systems.  And he was extremely dangerous.

But so am I, she thought.  And, Enough of this.

Even as she sprang from a ledge and soared across the open gap in the floor, her hand reached to her hip, searching for the pistol she knew should be there.

It was not.

Frowning, she hit the opposite deck and rolled to a stop, her hands feeling for any other weapons.

Where are they?  Where—?

Her fingers closed around the hilt of a bladed weapon of some kind.  The memories injected into her brain instantly cried out, “Katana!”

Her powerfully-muscled legs launched her across the space between her and her enemy even as she drew the sword from its sheath on her back and swung it out in a broad arc.

The blade met something—something big and broad and tough—and slashed it.

An unearthly cry resounded from the darkness.

Bullets sprayed out again, but Raven was no longer where she had landed.  Dancing to her right, she crouched and slashed out again.

Another cry, another spray of bullets.  Again the target had already moved.

Another slash, followed by a downward stroke.

Now bellowing in rage, the big adversary stumbled forward—into the light.  Raven could see him clearly.  She leapt upward and caught an exposed piece of pipe, so that now she was hanging out over his head, looking downward.

Standing more than eight feet tall, the muscular behemoth wore rugged black armor trimmed in silver.  A faceless helmet jerked from side to side as he searched for her.  Guns bracketed onto his forearms cycled and spun, preparing to open fire the instant the target was reacquired.

“Who are you?” Raven whispered to herself as she studied the strange figure.

The helmet jerked upward and he stared straight at her.  His arms redirected themselves at her, guns powering up.

Raven dropped onto his back, her sword clutched tightly in her right hand.  A sword, her injected memories told her then, that had been constructed of a complex alloy and that could cut through almost anything.

The gunfire sprayed out, bullets missing her by mere millimeters.

One quick motion with her sword.

She leapt away even as the bullets kept firing.  But now, she knew, they were firing through pure reflex alone.

For the attacker’s head had been cleanly separated from his body.  It dropped to the deck with a sickening thud.

The big, headless armored body kept firing its weapons for another few seconds—and, ironically, during that time, the bullets came closer to hitting Raven than they had at any point previously—before the ammo ran out and the body slumped lifelessly to the floor, guns still cycling and clicking impotently.

Raven stood over it, breathing heavily, her sword held tightly in her right hand.  As she breathed, as she came to be certain her foe had been defeated, she allowed her grip to loosen and the tip of the long blade tilted downward.

She formed the words in her mind, then: Machine.  Are you there?  Can you hear me?

Excerpted from HAWK: HAND OF THE MACHINE by Van Allen Plexico
Copyright 2012 by Van Allen Plexico and White Rocket Books