Saff's Blog

It’s been a while since I’ve posted on here but that’s because things have been BUSY. I’ve been trying to focus more on my fiction writing, rather than blog posts (I know we all miss ‘When Science Fiction Becomes Science Fact’). But the good news is that I now have many (9 to be exact) novels out now for you to enjoy.

In fact, book 6 (Junkie) of the Nova chronicles came out just a week ago! You can get the first five books in a box-set for just $5.99, but that low price won’t last so Buy Now.

So here is a breakdown of the Nova Chronicles:

Survivor

When everyone runs, who will stand?

Nova is a new recruit to the Jagged Maw: an elite bounty hunter guild.

During a routine collection, she finds herself dragged into the middle of an alien uprising.

The Ancients, merciless beings set on reclaiming the universe, have only one person left to stop them: Nova.

She must battle the Ancients, time, and her sanity, in order to stop the annihilation of the human race.

Fear the hero who has nothing left to lose.

Buy Survivor Now.

Pilgrim

After her encounter with the Ancient s, Nova is more determined than ever to break free of the Confederacy.

When she arrives on a planet that’s been silent for over one hundred and fifty years, she discovers that the planet is far from abandoned.

In order to survive, Nova and her companions must fight.

When a historical enemy emerges, there will be more than their lives at stake.

Buy Pilgrim Now.

Hunter

Ever wanted to hunt a vampire?

They’re nothing compared to the lecheons Nova faces in this gripping action adventure.

The blood-sucking lecheons are running rampant on Boullion Five and the police have been over-run.

Nova is the only one who will take the job, but with deadly cunning, super reflexes, and a thirst for blood, the lecheons could prove too much, even for her.

It will take her killer instinct to survive, and even that may not be enough.

Buy Hunter Now.

Gambler

When Aart goes missing Nova is forced to travel back to her hated home planet of Tabryn.

Her latest job to solve a casino heist takes her deep into the fetid underbelly of the corrupt planet, and faces from her past start to resurface.

It will take all of her strength to stay afloat as the past tries to pull her back to where it all began.

Discover the planet that made the bounty hunter in Book Four: Gambler.

Buy Gambler Now.

Justice

After the Ancients and the lecheons, Nova is looking for something simple, but life is never that easy.

Murder, man-eating plants, and rumours of cannibalism from the Inner Galaxies all await Nova in Book 5: Justice.

Buy Justice Now.

Junkie

Nova’s Toughest Challenge Yet

Guns blaze and people die in a covert battle for survival when an army attacks The

Jagged Maw.

Nova clings to life, drugged and alone on an outer planet, while the hidden enemy will

stop at nothing. They strike like wolves in the dark, picking off bounty hunters until

everything comes to a head in a chilling confrontation.

Nova’s most gruelling and action-packed adventure yet…

Buy Junkie Now.

REVIEWS

“One of my new favorite series! ”

~ R. Reynolds, Amazon Reviewer

“A great series, full of action and adventure…Can’t wait for the next book.”

~ Harry Miller, Amazon Reviewer

Buy the Box-set now for just $5.99 and save over 50%.

It’s been a while in the making but finally Survivor is here.

Survivor is book one in The Nova Chronicles and is a gritty sci-fi adventure. It could be described as “Tomb Raider in Space”.

When everyone runs, who will stand?

Nova is a new recruit to the Jagged Maw: an elite bounty hunter guild.

During a routine collection, she finds herself dragged into the middle of an alien uprising.

The Ancients, merciless beings set on reclaiming the universe, have only one person left to stop them: Nova.

She must battle the Ancients, time, and her sanity, in order to stop the annihilation of the human race.

Fear the hero who has nothing left to lose.

For a limited time you can buy Survivor for just $0.99, OR you can sign up to become a Bounty Hunter and get it for free!

The third and final book in The Lost Child Saga is here – The Hordes of Anarchy.

The fate of the world hangs in the balance

The die has been cast and the cards have been dealt, war is unavoidable.

The battlelines are drawn. But what happens when a bigger threat emerges?

Dragon and human must stand together against impossible odds. The power of the Shard is a blessing and curse, it has haunted the army and now it could mean their total destruction.

When the challenges are so great how can anyone overcome them?

Will swords and sorcery be enough?

Does anyone get out of life alive?

Destiny unfolds, beasts rise, and heroes die.

Buy now and bear witness!

If you haven’t started The Lost Child Saga yet, you can get the full box-set for just $4.99 (save over 30%) – Buy Now.

Hello readers

Today I’m pleased to share a sci-fi short story I wrote recently.

And don’t forget… if you sign up to my mailing list before the 23rd of September you’ll get Book One of the Nova Chronicles for FREE!

Enjoy!

Randor stood, his entire body rigid, one hand raised in salute. He saluted for half an hour, just as he had done every morning for his entire life. He stood on the observation deck. The starlit sky spread out before him. The cold emptiness of space greeted him. He stared out past the thick glass, past the metal tunnels, past the red dusty planet and into the great beyond.

The mechanical alarm sounded once and he allowed his hand to lower back to his side. He stepped away from the observation deck and walked through the narrow metal corridors.

There were so many of them, it was like a rabbit warren spreading out in all directions. Of course the designers had expected the tunnels to be filled with people. The plan was for a brand new human colony. How that dream had died.

In his free time Randor had gone back over the news headlines and the reports from half a century before. There had been a lot of hope in those reports, a lot of dreams.

MARS COLONY PLANTS FIRST SEEDS

BOLD EXPLORERS SET FOOT ON MARS

FIRST MARTIAN BORN, ONE YEAR AFTER COLONISATION

Even fifteen years ago the outlook had been bright. Communications with Earth came in every day, albeit delayed by a few minutes depending on the time of year. But that was before.

Randor jogged down the corridor and ducked into the main communications room. Seven chairs sat empty alongside the equipment. They spun in circles as Randor walked past. He sat down on the only chair not covered in a thin layer of dust.

He held down the red communicate button and spoke into the microphone. “This is Randor of Mars Colony One, calling Earth Force Major.”

He waited for a few moments. Static beat at his ears.

“Repeat, this is Randor of Mars Colony One. Earth Force Major do you read?”

He fiddled with the dials and held down the speech button again.

“This is Randor of Mars Colony One, calling Moon Colony Alpha, do you read?”

Randor repeated the ritual five times, just as the protocol dictated. He had gone through the same routine every morning for the last seven years and in that whole time he hadn’t gotten a single response.

Next on his schedule was breakfast. He walked into the mess hall. Rows and rows of empty tables and chairs soldiered across the room. Each setting was an exact replica of the one before. The only thing which distinguished them now was the layers of dust.

Randor walked across the room and pushed his way into the kitchen through the swinging doors. A faded sign read ‘authorised personnel only’, but hey, who was going to stop him? He went straight to the frozen rations. He took the time to look over his options. There wasn’t really any point, he knew the stock by heart, but it was part of the ritual.

“Bacon,” Randor said. He often spoke out loud to himself. It helped remind him he was alive and not some lonely ghost. He grabbed hold of the packet and threw it into the auto-cooker. The machine whirred into life and internal lights flashed on.

Bing.

Randor reached in and took out the well-cooked bacon. He carried it with his cutlery into the mess hall and sat down at his favourite chair, the only one not covered in dust. It was in the corner of the hall, backed against the wall with a full view of the rest of the room. He only ever felt safe if his back was covered.

He breathed deeply and the smell of the meat wafted up his nostrils. He smiled at the sensation. He took out his knife and fork and went to work.

“It is recommended that vegetable matter is added to your diet,” the mechanical voice piped up from Randor’s wrist. The monitor kept track of his health, eating habits and exercise. It hadn’t saved any of the others.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going to the garden after this,” Randor said.

He scoffed down the rest of the bacon and took his plate into the kitchen. He flicked on the water and washed the single plate before laying it on a rack to dry, alone.

Randor walked out of the mess hall and down another set of corridors which eventually opened into a garden. Glass panels faced the sky allowing the sun to light up the plants. They were descended from the original stock taken from Earth fifty years before when the colony was first begun. Carrots, potatoes, lettuce, all grew in the Martian garden. Of course they’d been modified, allowing them to thrive with less sunlight and drier soils.

“Water on,” Randor said as he walked down the aisles of garden beds. In response the irrigation system jumped to life and water trickled onto the plants. His eyes ran over each section, ensuring each tiny pump was still working. He leaned over and plucked a carrot from the ground. He chewed on it as he walked the rest of the garden.

Everything was in order, which meant it was time for his daily exercise. He went to the gym and jogged around the running track. His legs felt good as they pumped in time and carried him around the large trail. It circled most of the colony and had open windows looking out on the planet.

Randor sucked in a deep breath and enjoyed the burn in his lungs and muscles as he pushed his body to go faster and faster. Without the pain it was too easy to think while exercising. Too easy to reminisce and remember days gone by. Much better to push to the very extremes and keep his brain occupied.

Randor’s feet pounded on the track. Sweat dribbled down his face and the blood pumped through his veins. The outside planet blurred past as he ran. His human muscles, adapted over millennia for Earth, carried him at extreme speed in the lower gravity. People said (when there were people to speculate on such things), that a person returning to Earth from Mars would be bedridden with the sudden fatigue of higher gravity.

He sprinted around the track for an hour, the exact recommended daily dose of high intensity exercise. Once finished he headed to the showers. The warm water trickled down his face and back. It splashed over his muscles and washed the sweat away.

He felt good after the shower, invigorated. According to the colony’s schedule he had free time. He hated free-time. What was a man supposed to do for fun when he was trapped all alone? The only living thing on the planet? Possibly in the galaxy? His face tightened as he pictured the next two hours. They were completely empty; no way to distract himself from the loneliness. He would rather chew on rusted nails than face the haunting solitude that was free-time.

Still, ritual dictated that he follow the routine and the routine said it was free-time. Randor walked through the hollow colony until he came to the common room. There were chairs and couches set up around tables. There were games and shelves of books. He walked over to the bookshelves and scanned the titles. They were the same as yesterday.

“Read it, read it, read it,” he said as he moved his finger along the spines.

He gave up and walked over to the games cupboard. There were chess boards and decks of cards, Monopoly- Mars Edition and all manner of other games. The computers had games on them too but he’d already beaten them all… twice.

He could have listened to music but he hated the way it sounded like other people, other voices. It reminded him of an old riddle; if music plays in a Mars Colony and no one’s there to hear it, does it make a sound?…

He pulled out a deck of cards and took a seat by the window. He gazed out of the glass at the red surface of the planet as he shuffled.

Randor dealt two piles of five cards, placing the second pile in front of the empty seat opposite him.

“How was your run today Eiran?” Randor said as he picked up his cards and looked them over. His voice echoed around the empty room.

“Mine was good too,” Randor said.

There was silence for a while as Randor considered his cards and then laid a queen of diamonds face-up on the table. He waited for a few moments, staring at the empty seat opposite him.

“It’s your turn Eiran, I wish you wouldn’t get so distracted.”

Randor got up and walked around the table. He sat in the empty seat and picked up the second hand of cards. He studied them for a while.

“I’m not distracted, I’m thinking,” he said. “Besides, you’re one to talk; I saw Hera staring at you earlier.”

Randor placed a seven of spades on the table, laid the cards down and returned to his original seat. He picked up his hand and his eyebrows drew together.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Hera. I don’t know why you always think there is.”

Randor ran his hand over the cards before finally laying down a ten of clubs. He sat back in his chair and glared at the empty space in front of him. The corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. His foot rapped on the floor and his finger tapped on the arm of his chair. It felt like hours.

“Goddamit Eiran, it’s your turn!” he said and shot to his feet. He threw his hand of cards at the empty chair and stormed away.

Randor was still fuming as he exited the common room and headed for his sleeping pod. His ears and cheeks were burning with the heat and anger flowing through them. Eiran could be so frustrating! The way he never had his turn, the way he always talked about Hera… the way he was imaginary.

He slumped down onto his bed. Another hour of free-time and then it was dinner. According to the roster he was on star-watch tonight. He let his eyes drop shut and drifted to sleep.

***

When Randor woke and had dinner he went to the observation deck and sat on the hard floor. He gazed out at the stars. They were so cold. They taunted him from the safety of the sky.

He hated sitting here by himself, it made it too easy to think, to remember, but it was part of the routine.

Everything had gone wrong seven years ago.

He’d been down in the deep, patrolling the under-colonies. At the end of the shift he’d gone up into the colony proper and he’d found nothing. No one walked the corridors; no-one was in the mess hall or common room. There were no voices, no communicators. He’d run from room to room calling out but no one replied. The only sign of habitation were piles of clothes scattered through the rooms and hallways.

Initially he’d thought it was a practical joke, at least for the first hour. After the first day he was pretty sure it wasn’t a joke but he held some hope. After the first week he was curled into a corner of the mess-hall. He chewed his fingernails down until they bled. Tattered pieces of skin hung from the ends of his fingers. He’d taken to pulling out his hair, one strand at a time.

Then he’d found the routine.

The routine was pinned to every wall, handed out to every citizen; it was what had kept the Mars Colony running through famine and despair. It helped him survive. He clung to the strict, logical instructions like a lifeline.

Two weeks after finding the colony abandoned Randor tried to communicate with Earth and with the Moon Colony. All he received was silence. Neither of them responded. It was like the entire galaxy had gone away and left him behind.

He’d tried to access the video feed, to watch what happened, but it required a security password. He’d spent days typing combinations into the terminal screen. So far he hadn’t found the right one.

So here he was, seven years later, following the same routine and staring up into the same empty sky.

***

 The next morning Randor stood to attention on the observation deck for thirty minutes with his hand raised in a salute. The time used to be spent on daily updates, the Human Anthem, a message from the President. Now all that was left was Randor with his lonely gesture.

Afterwards he went to the communications room, brushing past the empty chairs.

“This is Randor of Mars Colony One, calling Earth Force Major,” Randor said, his finger pressed firmly on the communicate button. He paused and listened for a response. Static met his ears. He opened his mouth to repeat the call when a crackling voice replied.

“Mars Colony One this is Earth Force Major. Urgent code red, Halucin Acute Virus outbreak. Millions dead. Isolation methods failed. Infected persons frozen en route. Do not o-” the airway went dead.

Randor’s heart was beating a hundred times a second. His ribs vibrated with the force of it and he felt his chest rising up to his throat. His face and neck were hot and blood surged around his body. He sucked in lungfuls of air but he couldn’t get enough.

“Earth Force Major! Earth Force Major! Do you receive?” Randor spoke furiously, his finger pushing so hard on the button it threatened to sink straight through the metal desk.

“Mars Colony One this is Earth Force Major. Urgent code red, Halucin Acute Virus outbreak. Millions dead. Isolation methods failed. Infected persons frozen en route. Do not o-”

“Computer, make contact with that speaker. I want him to hear me now!” Randor said and looked up at the main console which ran the colony.

“Error, communication impossible. Temporal impairment.”

“What does that mean?” Randor said, he gripped the arm of his chair; his knuckles were white.

“Message dated seven years ago, temporally impossible to regain contact,” the computer’s voice replied.

“Seven years,” Randor whispered.

This was it; this was what had happened all those years ago.

For seven years he had been left in complete silence without a single explanation. Until today.

“… Millions dead. Isolation meth-”

“Silence it unless another message plays,” Randor said.

The panicked voice cut off and Randor was plunged back into silence.

The Halucin Acute Virus. But that was just a lab experiment… All the nations and the independent colonies had sworn never to use it.

Someone had used it.

Randor wracked his brain, trying to remember everything he could about the virus. His mind was completely blank.

“Computer, give me a summary on the Halucin Acute Virus.”

“The Halucin Acute Virus or HAV is a synthetic disease designed to destroy human life. It was designed in 2035, the new alternative to nuclear war, but was banned by the United Nations and the United Colonies. The virus travels from host to host through the air and dies within minutes without a living host. Victims are vaporized due to extreme replication of the virus.”

Randor held his head in his hands. It was all so clear now. The Halucin Acute Virus was released. It spread through Earth and got into the frozen humans being sent to Mars. The cryo-chambers would have slowed the viral replication until they were defrosted and then BANG. The entire colony is wiped out in less than five minutes; leaving nothing behind but piles of dirty clothes.

The cargo ship arrived while he was down in the deeper tunnels. It was carrying the infected cryo-stasis bodies. A-tissue, A-tissue we all fall down.

Randor slid from his chair to the floor. He stared at the air in front of his face. His mouth hung open and a trail of saliva slid out of the corner and ran down his chin.

If the virus already wiped out Earth then it would have taken the Moon Colony. That meant one thing; he was the last human. His neck tingled. The sensation spread down his spine. The silence of the Colony grew louder until it was pressing in on him like a physical force.

He imagined the sheer infinitely of space. He pictured himself as the only human left amongst all the emptiness. He couldn’t breathe. His throat closed and he heaved to get air. He coughed and hacked, the force of it sending speckles of blood out onto the floor.

He fell into heaving sobs. His tears joined the blood. He would be alone for the rest of his life. He would never find love, he would never have friendship. He would never have a family of his own and when he died the entire of human history would die with him.

“No, no, no,” Randor whispered. He stared at the legs of his chair. His eyes glazed over and another line of spittle slid out of the corner of his mouth and dropped to the floor.

He collapsed to the ground. His cheek landed in a pool of blood, spit, and tears. He lay still, catatonic. It could have been for a minute, it could have been an hour, it could have been a day; time didn’t matter anymore.

By the time he swam back to consciousness his limbs and back were stiff and the cold had seeped through into his bones. His eyes stung with the tears he’d been shedding and his empty stomach growled.

He pushed himself to his feet and looked around the communications room. For the first time he saw the dirt and dust collected on the machinery. He saw the broken light which flickered in one corner of the room. He noticed the captain’s chair which had been empty for so long that the leather was peeling away.

Randor stumbled away from the empty room. He couldn’t think straight. He clung desperately to a single idea. He had to get away. There was nothing left for him here. He had to move, had to leave.

He went to the loading bay.

It was a massive room which extended out in all directions with a high ceiling. There were several ships pulled up in the bays, each a different size. Closest to the main door was a ship he hadn’t seen before. It was dark grey with the Earth Fleet symbol stamped onto the back. The door to the ship was still open, a gaping dark hole which beckoned to him.

Randor turned away from the ship and walked down the rest of the bays. He counted the ships as he went along. Four in total. Four ships abandoned in the Mars Colony Hangar.

“Four,” Randor whispered and his eyebrows drew together. “There should have been five.”

He wrapped his consciousness around the idea. He forced himself to focus on it; it was the only string still holding him to his sanity. He strode over to the nearest computer terminal and searched the hanger log. The entry door marked each ship as they came and went.

“Five,” Randor said, his eyes scanning down the list of names and times. “Come on, five.”

The second last entry was The Herald, which was the Earth ship, the one carrying the infected bodies. But then there was another. A ship left the hangar after The Herald arrived, five minutes after.

“The Beacon,” Randor said.

The Beacon had left the hanger after The Herald arrived. What if they were safe inside their ship at the time and they saw the disease spreading? What if they got out in time?

“They could still be alive,” Randor whispered.

His fingers feverishly tapped against the screen to find the calling code of the ship. He sent the call and leant against the wall. His heart was beating furiously and his head ached with hope.

“Please. Please be alive,” he whispered.

“Please!” He clenched his fists at his sides and desperate tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes.

We all fall down.

END

——————-

I hope you enjoyed The Last Man on Mars. If you like this kind of writing then you’ll love the Nova Chronicles. Sign up to the mailing list and get Book 1: Survivor, for free.

I’ll be posting more short stories here too, so if you’d like to be updated of new posts- the mailing list is a great way to do it!

For more thrilling short stories, go here.

The Story Formula from David Masters is an excellent little book of ideas. The concept is simple, a bunch (52) ideas to get you writing, but it’s something every writer needs.

We’ve all heard of the dreaded writer’s block, and whilst you can fight your way through it with shear determination (see my cure for writer’s block here), it’s a lot easier if you have a bunch of ideas to work with. The Story Formula does just that.

The great thing about this book though is that it’s not just a list. There are exercises to get your brain thinking and also pointers so that you can find your OWN ideas. You can go to any old website and find a list of story ideas but I think The Story Formula goes beyond that.

So if you’re struggling for a muse click here and check out The Story Formula.

Or, if you’d rather keep procrastinating you can read a sci-fi short story here.

Last year I had the pleasure of hosting a zombie short story from Michael Cairns. This year I’m happy to host another fantastic zombie tale of horror from Michael:

 by Michael Cairns

 Sarah doesn’t much care for alcohol. She tried it a few times in her teens and ended every evening with her head down the toilet. Now she settles for orange juice and occasionally Coke if she’s feeling wild.

Right now, she’s craving whiskey. Or Gin. Lighter fluid probably wouldn’t be too bad. Anything to dull the pain. Anything to take away the cold that seeps through her feet like she’s standing in snow and creeps up past her knees. Alcohol would burn it out and leave her all warm inside. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be warm again.

She stares down at the corpse before her and relives the moments leading up to this point. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s got about two minutes to live, so it’s probably not the best part of her life to be thinking about. It is, however, one of the most surprising.

She’d expected the mail-man, or possibly the cute guy who moved in down the road last week. She’d hoped it was the cute guy in a tight t-shirt, possibly a mankini. Those things weren’t sexy but they told you everything you needed to know. Alas, it was neither today’s post nor her latest sexual fantasy.

She didn’t know who it was, though she wouldn’t have recognised him even if she had. His face was twisted, the skin so pale it resembled freshly dried plaster. His teeth were on show from beneath gums that were cracked and bleeding and his eyes were sunk deep into his skull. They burned with a fire that reminded her of the girls on America’s Next Top Model. He wanted something, something so bad he was willing to kill for it.

It turned out he was also willing to crawl halfway down her hallway with an axe buried in his head for it. She had to admire the tenacity. It also turned out that what he wanted was her, or more specifically, her brains. She knew he wanted brains because that was all he said.

‘Braaaiiins. Braaaiiiins.’

She giggled the first time. He sounded like one of those funny zombies from the movies. Then he grabbed her arm and took a chunk out of it with nails that belonged in.. Well, America’s Next Top Model. She screamed and threw herself away from him, slamming into the bottom of the banisters and hitting the floor. She stared in disbelief at the blood streaming down her arm.

The strange man with the scary eyes put his finger in his mouth and licked the blood off. She never thought she’d want to see a mankini as badly as she did right then. Sarah scrambled to her feet and dashed down the corridor. His voice followed her, like wind before the storm.

‘Braaaaaiiiins.’

She reached the kitchen, banged through the back door and grabbed the axe off the back step. The patio was covered in splinters from a morning spent prepping wood for the fire. She hefted the axe, feeling the smooth wood against the old callouses and smiling. That fucker was looking for brains in the wrong damn house.

She stepped back into the kitchen and blinked. He wasn’t there. She took one step and then another into the hallway. She held her breath, heart thumping harder. Why wasn’t he calling out? Had he gone? She let out her breath as quietly as she could and sucked in another, holding it as she stalked down the hall. As she reached the front door, she heard it.

It sounded like a geriatric eating a peach, like Mr Horowitz down at the oldies home where she helped out. A slurping that implied not all the teeth were either present or working properly. Her stomach turned and she stepped into the lounge. He had Jinx. The bastard had Jinx and her cat no longer had the top of his head. His tiny cute eyes stared sightlessly across the room as the zombie – because let’s face it, that’s what it was – sucked his brains out the top of his skull.

She howled like a soccer mom who’s son has just been fouled, and launched herself across the room. The axe flew and struck the zombie right in the centre of the head with a crunch that bounced off the walls and drowned out her solitary sob. Jinx dropped to the floor a lifeless ball of fluff, and she scooped him up.

‘You bastard.’ She sobbed again and blinked away the tears. He’d killed her cat. Now he was lurching this way and that, mouth open and spilling half-masticated cat brain onto her lounge carpet. She should have kept the axe. She backed away to the door and the zombie spotted her. He staggered toward her, hands outstretched and mouth making empty chomping movements.

She reversed further, eyes never leaving the axe as it bobbed up and down in time with his steps. He reached the door to the lounge before he collapsed to his knees and she finally let out her breath. Spots flashed before her eyes and she put out a hand to catch the wall. She wasn’t quite quick enough and fell on her ass. Stupid. The zombie dug its nails into the hardwood floor and she expected it to crawl toward her. But instead it rushed forward like someone had kicked it up the arse and before she knew it, the zombie’s teeth were buried deep in her arm.

She screamed, thrashing her head from side to side and wailing. She gritted her teeth and grabbed the axe handle for leverage, then yanked her arm away. The sound of her own flesh tearing brought bile to her throat and she gasped, tears once again stinging her eyes. But she was free.

She shoved herself away down the hallway, scooting on her butt, gaze fixed on the zombie. She resolutely refused to look at the hole in her arm.

So now Sarah sits, staring down at the zombie who’s finally stopped moving. It’s done its job anyway. The cold has reached her waist now and she’s all too aware she no longer cares about the mankini. In fact, her craving is feeling altogether different. She thinks about Geoff next door. He’s an IT consultant, smart guy apparently. About as sexual as a Town Planning meeting, but she no longer cares.

Sarah gets to her feet and notices that her arm has stopped bleeding. The craving for alcohol is still strong. Maybe there’s something in that. Maybe whatever the disease is that’s creeping through her can be defeated by alcohol. Or maybe she just wants to get drunk before her life is over. Then even that craving is gone and Sarah fades like book spines left in the sun.

Geoff next door has always fancied Sarah. Unfortunately for him, the feeling is now mutual.

****

Chocoholic Michael Cairns is a writer and author of the superhero fantasy series, The Planets and science fiction adventure series, A Game of War. A musician, father and school teacher, when not writing he can be found behind his drum kit, tucking into his chocolate stash or trying, and usually failing, to outwit his young daughter.

At http://cairnswrites.com you can download a free copy of novella Childhood Dreams (A Game of War, Part one), find podcasts, free short stories, info about Michael, and of course, links to where you can buy his books.

Maybe personalised helicopters would be a better name for them?

Either way, they’re not far off. An EU research project is currently looking at designing and implementing personalised flying vehicles for everyday public use. That would certainly make the daily commute to work a little more interesting!

Of course there are still a lot of details that need to be worked out… these things can’t interfere with normal air travel, plus they have to be almost totally autonomous. Let’s be honest, most of the people I see on the roads would wreak absolute havoc if they were loosed on the air!

So get ready ladies and gents… it may not be long until you’re flying around in your very own helicopter

You can learn more about this project here: http://mycopter.eu/home.html

In other news there are currently seven (yes 7!) books of the Nova chronicles in draft stages. If you’d like to be alerted when the first one comes out (and get it for free) just sign up to the Bounty Hunter Newsletter. It’s a fast-paced, action-packed, sci-fi adventure. Click here for a taste.

A fascinating study has recently been published in Nature which demonstrates the ability of researchers to both inactivate and reactivate memories in rats.

These rats were trained to respond to a certain stimulus. They were then exposed to a depotentiation protocol. After treatment the rats did not respond to the stimulus anymore.

Subsequently the rats were exposed to a potentiation protocol. After treatment the rats once more responded to the original stimulus.

Without getting bogged down in the details this basically means that the scientists were able to make the rats forget a specific memory. They were then able to re-install the memory on command.

This research has fascinating implications and is especially interesting when examined through the filter of science fiction. Without any exaggeration this is brainwashing. Imagine extending the method to humans, you could make them selectively forget something and then at the right moment, remember it again.

Look out horror stories like 1984, the reality just got a whole lot creepier.

Of course there are medical benefits to this research as well. The ability to ‘reactivate’ memories could be priceless to Alzheimer’s patients. There could also be benefits to PTSD sufferers as well.

What can you imagine being done with this research?

Does this research make any of your favourite science-fiction stories a possible reality?

There is so much going on in the field of space-travel that it can be hard to keep up. With projected Mars landings, the potential for off-world colonies and the commercialization of space-flight it’s easy to become lost in the noise.

One topic which has come under the spotlight is the upcoming plan to send the Torah to the moon in a kind of time-capsule. The plan being to keep it safe if the apocalypse should claim Earth.

The Torah on the Moon project is the first of such plans which will also see the Hindu scriptures and Chinese philosophical works delivered to our off-world ‘back-up’. These will join the Bible which is already sitting on top of an abandoned moon-buggy.

There is a lot of controversy over these planned missions. The major being, should the focus be on religious texts when there are so many other items which humanity has to offer. What about the works of Beathoven? Or the art and inventions of Da Vinci? On the other hand, the religious texts are some of the oldest written works on Earth and have had huge implications on humanity’s history.

The other concern is that these missions will pave the way for cultural and religious disputes over the moon and other space territory. After-all religion has been the base cause of so many wars; could this attempt at saving the religious texts be opening old wounds best left forgotten? Or is it simply a beautiful way to preserve an integral part of humanity?

These are all difficult questions to answer. It is also an interesting debate as once more science and religion are thrown together.

What do you think? Is there anything wrong with these projects? What would you send to the moon as a memoriam of humanity?

That’s right ladies and gents… it’s not long until the release of Book 1 of the Nova Chronicles… a fast-paced, action-packed, science-fiction adventure.

Enjoy a look at the cover…

And imagine the adventure within…

You can get book 1 FOR FREE if you sign up to be a bounty hunter (<<< to your left), just one of many great bounties you’ll receive.

If you haven’t met Nova yet I suggest you take a look at Steel Gods of the Arena, a short-story overflowing with action.

The Nova Chronicles are for anyone who enjoys science-fiction and adventure but if you’re a fan of Tomb Raider then it couldn’t be more perfect for you.