A. Phallus Si's Blog

Poor Pherral and Krax. They’ve been abandoned on Sanguine Fen, which, to be honest, is not a very nice place. Rather inhospitable as planets go, swampy, underdeveloped, and a beacon for the flotsam and jetsam of the universe. They should be glad they aren’t dead yet. Pherral’s strategy of always moving has paid off in the past, but now, they’re just sitting ducks.

So, will this author save them?

Or are they doomed?

That fact is, I still love these guys. Their stories are quietly spinning in my head. Unfortunately, this is an adventure/romance series, and I have had the hardest falling out with romance for the past couple years. Where once I read hundreds of romances in a year, I maybe average a dozen, possibly two. My present disillusionment has affected my ability to write their story. The story they deserve.

So, if there are any readers out there wondering, yes, Pherral and Krax still exist and are waiting, much like you. I won’t lie about when they will be completed, but for the handful of wondering souls–there is more to tell.

Woo-HOO!

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It may not seem like very much, but this made me do metaphorical backflips. Seriously, I’m lucky to still be able to do a backbend, forget any flips. Even when I was young I was always afraid I’d crack my head open, like my classmate in 4th grade when he fell off the rings on the playground during lunch. Okay, it wasn’t his head that cracked open, but in my defense I only saw white squiggly things and reddish fluid.

It was SpaghettiOs.

Still, I was traumatized. So, no backflips unless they’re into water off a boat, diving board, or pool deck.

Pherral and Maat find themselves on a rogue planet, you know… Pherral’s preferred haunting grounds. It’s brisk business as usual except for a few surprises thrown in. There’s a stowaway onboard Aureus and it changes everything. And as if that isn’t enough, Pherral’s latest client is more than a little interesting. Looks like Sanguine Fen is turning out to be more exciting than the quick transport job Pherral planned.

They were amusing themselves by watching an iron turtle demolishing a blood shrew nest and making a meal out of the inhabitants when Pherral spotted his contact. The distinct iridophore marking on the Cirrina’s fourth arm verified it. The fluorescent blue ring pulsed as he approached, and the pathway cleared.

The Cirrina scuttled across the room, alternating between arms propelling itself across the floor. Pherral kept one hand on his weapon, firmly gripping the holstered phaser.

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Ho, Ho, HO!

Whether you’re leaping

Avoiding dancing ladies and drummers

Or searching for the perfect ring or mislaid fowl

Here’s a little something to keep you happy during the frenzy

Tis the Season to be Merry!

KRAX is Free Dec. 1st – Dec. 5th

KRAX is FREE on Amazon

Is it a happy, chipper sort of place or a bloody swamp?

Being a paradox lover, the interplay between sanguine, the optimistic temperament, and blood-hued makes for fun with the latest destination.

Sanguine Fen is the next episode in the Aureus’ adventures featuring the fearless Pherral and Krax. Needless to say, the environment and its inhabitants are going to be a key aspect of the story. A wet planet filled with sedges, mosses and dangerous wildlife that can spook the hardiest of explorers. Not that Pherral has any intention of doing more than landing, unloading, and leaving.

But when have Pherral’s activities gone exactly according to plan?

As per usual, death is on the line and with a stowaway their lives just got more exciting.

Now for something completely different. In the spirt of the season and the whimsicality of myself, I offer a lovely little short story in hopes it will entertain.

The cool winds whipped at skirts, jackets and hats alike; the pleasant autumn afternoon suddenly turned and everyone scuttle along their way making the most effort to get to where they wanted as quickly as possible. The casual strollers, joggers and young mothers with their unruly children were gone and the park was peaceful again, just the way Archibald liked it. Summer is a highly overrated season, people are everywhere swarming like ants on a picnic blanket, making noise with their music and laughing; now the gentle blanket of silence that winter brings enveloped the park.

Archibald walked along the deserted path witnessing the last leaves being pushed from their perches on the trees. This icy blast would clear off the last vestiges of a brilliantly colored fall, a rich palette of deep golds, fiery crimsons and glowing oranges. People would settle into the long, cold dark of winter and huddle in their holes leaving Archibald delightfully secluded. Reaching a thick wooden door banded by iron he inserted an ornately carved key into the lock, the mechanism turned effortlessly and the door pushed smoothly as Archibald stepped inside.

He navigated across the darkened room and flipped a switch on the other side illuminating a host of faces. Some were smiling, few scowling and others leering; yet among them was one charming and coquettish face that glanced at Archibald. Aah…yes, Francine looked as lovely as ever. Archibald took a soft cloth and gently wiped at her cheeks, the blushing pink so delicately flushed across the apple.   Francine was positively the most perfect female Archibald had ever known, it sadden him to see her leave. She would be back soon and he would be waiting, ready to make any repairs. The performers were so careless; often there would be chips, dents and worn off paint. They didn’t care, throwing them down on the floor while changing scenes. It made him angry, so Archibald never watched the performances. In reality, the stage manager insisted he did not attend after the last incident. Archibald had grabbed that snotty nose kid by the neck for throwing Francine down after the show- it was so hard that he broke off her arm; that was just what he was going to do to Jimmy when the other idiots grabbed and pulled him off.

The theater company told him not to comeback to work, but in a few days Archibald was called back in to talk with the stage manager, Roger Vanderhoff. Roger was nice, he understood that the performers were not as careful as they should be, he too was angry that Francine was hurt, but he needed Archibald to promise not to come to the shows. When Archibald agreed and signed the silly piece of paper with the theater’s name emblazoned across the top, Roger took him back to the storeroom with the large wooden door; Francine was precisely laid out on a clean piece of muslim to protect her from the bare worktable.

That was two years ago, right now, she along with the others were to be packed up in their crates for the holiday pantomimes being performed all over the city. Archibald never had to be told to stay away from the Christmas pageants, if the summer crowds were obnoxious, then the antics of the Holiday merrymakers were unbearable. All he hoped is that the handlers were careful and Francine returned from the tour relatively unscathed. Archibald would miss her but he had promised her a new outfit or two, the dainty bathing costume she wore for her number with Percy by seashore needed to be redone. The last fool, Theodore who handled her for the show had gotten the fabric wet and it had dried and shrunk askew. Percy and Francine were suppose to frolic along the shore and sing, “By the Beautiful Sea”.

Joe and Jane were always together.

Said Joe to Jane,

“I love summer weather,

So let’s go to that beautiful sea,

Follow along,

Say you’re with me!”

It really was one of her best acts as she gaily pranced across the sand flirting with the water’s edge. That upstart, Theodore had the bright idea and decided that it would be fun to splash in the water and amuse the audience, this had ruined her costume. There was no stretching it, so he would make a replacement and perhaps a new gown as well. A pretty new gown that would cheer Francine up after the tour. Yes, definitely something lovely, Archibald was resolute.

The Harmony Theater on Blinker Street glowed in the winter darkness of a steel gray afternoon. The matinee crowds were pushing through in the lobby, the laughter of children running around in circles as the adults chatted, the whole room resembled a gaggle of geese. Soon they drifted into the theater, some traversing the steps to the balconies while the others flowed through to the orchestra seats. It was the season opening, the mood was festive as the lights dimmed and the noise quieted. A single spotlight shone on a pretty girl and the gentle strains of violins reached the audience.

Reginald and Francine often performed together; Reginald was a distinguished man with gray whiskers, monocle and a shiny black top hat. In this act, she would wear her emerald green satin gown with the skirt that swished when she walked across the stage. Francine loved when Joan was her handler; she was the only one who made her blond ringlets dance properly. Geoffrey, Theodore and even Carol made her hair fly into her face and it was most inelegant. That was fine if she was performing a polka, but she should glide across the floor not hobble like a peg leg pirate!

Reginald approached Francine standing to one side of the ballroom, gallantly offered his arm; they strolled into the scene, and began to waltz. Joan was in excellent form tonight; Francine danced seemingly without strings, twirling around the stage. Reginald and she smiled to each other knowing that the crowd was holding their breaths wondering how their strings did not intertwine and tangle. Francine was glad Reginald had Theodore this time, the awkwardness of his gait was appropriate for an elderly gentleman, but not a young woman. Joan and Theodore danced around each other as they performed, breathless with the effort. The waltz ended and Reginald and Francine bowed and curtsied with perfection. As they prepared to change scenes, Theodore grabbed Francine from Joan with a smile as they beamed over the performance, he went to swing her out of the way for the next act; it was then Francine knocked into the frame and the force with which she hit caused a crack along her cheek. Joan and Theodore looked aghast at each other, the horror of the raw exposed wood was too much to look at for either one.

The phone rang. Archibald looked up from his stitching on the bodice of Francine’s new gown. He had embroidered sweet violets along the neckline and down the right sleeve of the cream silk gown. Annoyed he brusquely answered, it was Roger, there had been a horrible accident at the opening show would he be able to get to the workshop tonight. Archibald asked what happened, but Roger would only say that Francine needed him. With a single glance at the unfinished gown, Archibald reached for his wool coat from its hook and headed out. His feet crunched on the new snow, untouched on this winter’s eve, and his mind raced. It must be serious if Francine could not perform tomorrow without his help, what did those idiots do this time? After an eternity, Archibald finally reached the banded iron door. The lights were on and Roger sat in the corner perched on top of the radiator which was valiantly blasting warmth into the frosty room. Archibald didn’t like the look in Roger’s eyes; they darted between him and Francine, eventually resting on Archibald as he reached her. Archibald did nothing but stood unmoving and saying nothing. After a pregnant pause, his voice cut through the room,

“Who did this?’’, Archibald had no interest in what had happened or how, merely whom was to blame for the jagged crack that ran from her left temple to the tip of her nose.

Silence, then Roger spoke quietly, “Does it matter? I have spoken with everyone and they are all very, very sorry about what happened and I have been assured that nothing like this will occur again. What matters is that Francine needs your help, you’re the only one who can fix her.”

“You know it matters and you have made these promises to me before Roger. Who battered Francine’s face?”

“Archibald, you know I won’t talk about the performers with you. Remember you signed an agreement and the company will make me enforce it if necessary. You don’t want to leave Francine, do you?”

Archibald’s stony stare cut into Roger, he turned his back and started to lay out his tools. He gently pushed Francine’s hair back away from her face and secured it. Roger watched Archibald adept hands carefully rearrange Francine on the table. His hands ran down her, extending her limbs and straightening her gown, primly covering her knees. Roger felt like a voyeur, Archibald begin to work on Francine.

After a time and without a glance,“Go. I have a lot of work and Francine will need to rest, come back tomorrow around noon and she will be ready.”

Roger stood in the cold snow, the St. Joseph’s bells began to peal, and on the twelfth chime he turned the handle. The room was colder than outside but brightly lit. Roger looked around, the empty table caught his eye. Good Lord, he couldn’t have taken her, would he? The company would make him pursue Archibald, take legal action, whatever was necessary to secure Francine. Francine was not just any puppet but an antique marionette hand carved by Hans Groedel in 1893 and the masterpiece of an exquisite collection compiled by Baroness Maria Louisa Baumeister. Relief washed across Roger’s face as Archibald emerged from the side closet.

Roger’s reaction did not go unnoticed, Archibald dryly stated, “Francine is packed and ready to go. You should hurry if you don’t want to miss the two o’clock matinee.”

Roger was surprised at Archibald’s demeanor but gratefully accepted his good fortune and collected the previously unobserved crate on shelf by his side. As he pulled the door close Roger turned to see Archibald polishing his tools,

“Thank you, Archibald.”

Archibald neither looked up nor answered but nodded in response as the door thudded. A smile crept across his face and a whistle plied his lips.

Theodore lifted Francine from the crate, her cheeks were deeply rouged. Archibald is getting old he thought, perhaps he needed glasses. Theodore would mention the heavy paint job on her cheeks to Roger. No one else ever talked to that crazy man, not since that summer two years ago when he and Carol pulled Archibald off Jimmy. Maybe Archibald would finally have to leave the theater; the man was a menace and if the genius could no longer handle his tools with finesse then the company would be obliged to replace him. Besides, he was quite old and it was time for him to retire, go someplace warm instead of wandering around that freezing stone storeroom. A couple of years ago they finally installed a space heater, many times he had gone in there to look through the entire collection to get ideas for a new program and it wasn’t on, yet. Archibald went about his work in the 45- 50 degree temperatures. When he tried to turn it on, Archibald snarled at him that the puppets liked it better like this. He had thought that was an odd statement, but he was an odd creature and it was far easier to humor Archibald then complain.

Complaints to the company had always fallen on deaf ears, it was only when he almost broke Jimmy’s neck that evening that any action was taken and then they only banished him from the performances. Theodore always thought Jimmy would take some legal action, but when he left a few weeks later nothing happened and the whole event was publicly forgotten. It was as if Jimmy had never been part of the troupe, Theodore kept meaning to have a couple of drinks with him and left several messages suggesting they meet at the Old Tinker Cart where they used to hang out. Not long after, Jimmy’s sister, Susan called Theodore and in a broken, tearful voice let him know that Jimmy had been stabbed to death in an apparent robbery not 2 blocks from the pub. What a tragedy he thought, shaking his head. Regardless, Theodore was ecstatic that the collision involving the troupe’s prize marionette had apparently been forgiven. Not a word from the Baroness and only stern lecture from Mr. Vanderhoff who seemed more concerned with Archibald, the crazy collection conservator than the actual damage inflicted on the priceless puppet.

Glancing at her again, she looked more like a prostitute than an enchanting ingénue. He turned to see if there was any white powder to dust on her face, maybe that would suffice for the evening’s performance; he felt a sharp pain in his side and then another and another. Perhaps the sausage he had with his eggs this morning had been in the refrigerator too long. When had he bought them? He tried to rub the aching away, it was moist and he glanced down at his hand. Covered in bright red and the sharp pains were in his stomach now. He looked to the table, Francine’s face was more flushed still and in her hand was something shiny with red streaks; it kept poking at him. The distorted grimace on her face, streams of warm liquid and the pool of crimson on the floor brought the awful truth to light. As he slid to the floor, he watched her terrible face soften, the color fade to a gentle blushing pink as Francine lay back against the crate and slid the shiny metal into Reginald’s cane. She just watched him lying there on the floor with the slightest of coy smiles. Suddenly, he heard Joan scream as the long, cold dark set in.

Blurb:

Do you know why they call it a whisperblade?

That’s the sound it makes slicing through flesh.

Krax escaped Crater Base Delta 54 with nothing but the Sylvex shorts he wore. Now, he’s on the run with his new partner, Pherral. Part gladiator, part assassin, and captain of the Talon-class Aureus, Pherral is a man to be reckoned with, a man who can bring the champion to his knees—and an absolute enigma.

Krax might have more questions than answers, but he’s ready to start his life anew. Krax knew that when he fled Frax stables that there would never be a dull moment, not with Pherral. True to form, shortly after they arrive at Space Portal Vector 7Z-218, things start coming fast and furious.

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Space Portal Vector 7Z-218 Universe

Background on the world setup and species for this story as well as other books set in it see: https://spv7z218.wordpress.com/

Heading into the homestretch for MAAT’s release. I’m hoping, fairly certain since it is complete and in edits, that it will be out before the end of August. MAAT is the sequel to Krax, and in it we get to see how Pherral and Krax have adjusted to their newly minted partnership. Set on Space Portal Vector 7Z-218, there is an overlap with characters from the SPV stories. Some fan favorites have major roles.

[image error]The title gets its name from the ancient Egyptian concept of justice, harmony and balance. Wikipedia has an overview for interested parties: HERE.

It should also give readers a clue as to the species identification of at least one of our protagonists. This plays a major role in the developing series plot as well as the characters relationship. And don’t forget kinky times—Pherral and Krax are enjoying their exploration of each other. Oh boy, are they.

And sometimes… it gets messy.

Species data for the series can be found in the SPV Cultural Logs: HERE.

“We should really tell them about that?”

“What?” Sips coffee and plops down to watch hummingbirds working over the salvia and bathing in the fountain.

“Dead snail on the wall.”

“Sounds like an indie rock band.”

“It’s been there a while and it’s bugging me.”

“It’s better than dead rat in the alley,” I counter.

Hum of agreement.

“Or dead cat in the yard,” I conclude.

Uproarious laughing commences.

And that’s how a weekend morning starts. Trust me, when you can have conversations that subsist of only questions like, “Do you want to be the shoveller or the bagger?” you know it’s true love.

KRAX 2.0 is being edited and revised, but in preparation for Pherral and Krax’s soujourn on Space Portal Vector 7Z-218 readers might want to check up with a few characters they might meet. Find out about Damien Altamura and Hayden Ferrier.

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FREE GLOBALLY JULY 28-30