Excerpt

I’ve got this little story I’ve been playing around with that I’ve tentatively named “Rascal Brand” after the titular character. It’s kind of a “space hippie marooned on an alien planet desperate to survive” story.

Blurb: “There’s an intergalactic war happening between the Terran Empire and the Nyxti, but it’s very far away from Cal’s world view. He’s twenty-seven years old and he’s run away from his dead end job to join the Reclamation Squadron (which is basically the Peace Corps of the future). He loves helping people, but he was shipped out with Commander Steve “Ruins Everything” Sarta, the guy that blew up Bermuda Base. Ordered to the fringe worlds, they were assigned a flashy ship that turned out to be a refurbished model built on mostly recalled parts. Piloting a literal death trap, it seemed inevitable that they would crash land on an alien world. A world where peace loving Cal must survive alone.”


He woke to the smell of singed hair and the sense that something was very wrong. The air was stifling hot and the heat level was rising even as he tried to blink his head clear.

There was the blaring of warning alarms and everything was cast in hues of orange, the cockpit looking nightmarish and strange. “Wha…” he coughed, his lungs filling with acrid smoke. It smelled like toxic chemicals, and his confused brain tried to remember if the ship’s interior was made out of anything that was going to kill him as it melted.

Cal felt strange, his hands awkward as he fumbled his crash harness off. He grabbed the handle of the emergency kit and pulled it out from under his seat, slinging the strap over his shoulder crosswise so it wouldn’t get lost. There were other things he felt like he should grab and some part of him didn’t want to leave the “safety” of the ship at all, which was currently a burning deathtrap; he forced himself to move.

He stumbled passed Steve’s already bloating corpse, the slanted angle of the deck nearly sending him tumbling. “Sorry, buddy,” he rasped. The smoke was rising to choking levels and he covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve. The slick material of his shipsuit didn’t breathe very well, and as a result neither did he, but it wasn’t like he had much choice. He had to get out of the ship.

His eyes stung and burned as he left the cockpit and faced a small inferno. For a second he was terrified–the entire aft section was nothing but flames and oily black smoke. The fire systems hadn’t even tried to kick in, the little hatches firmly sealed, and he vowed to track down the guys from Hephaestus Corp and kick their asses. A malfunctioning fire suppression system was a bit more serious than the nonstandard sized cup holders. His anger at the company was tinged with hysteria. There was a good chance he was going to die scrabbling at the door like a rat.

Coughing and fighting the urge to retch, he stumbled to the emergency hatch. The skin on the right side of his body felt like it was trying to curl in on itself away from the heat of the flames. He might have thought the sight beautiful if he wasn’t the one currently facing death by roasting–orange and yellow and purple and green flames writhing and twining amongst the supposedly fire resistant seat cushions.

He reached out to grab the door handle, then cursed and jerked back as he felt his skin sizzle. The handle was burning hot and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed that the plasticene sheath had melted off, leaving just the bare metal.

Tears stung his eyes and the heat and smoke levels were rising. The panicked alarm had risen to a teeth jarring squall and the orange warning light was blink-blink-blinking, urging him to get the hell out before it was too late.

He pulled his sleeve down over his right hand and reached out quickly to grasp the handle and gave it a hard shove down. Tears stung his eyes at the pain in his already burned hand but he was running on survival instinct. He was not letting himself burn to death, not without a hell of a fight.

He jerked on the handle, then hurriedly let go. His sleeve had melted and pulled away with gooey strings fluttering like the tentacles of a clarphod.

With the release of the handle, the door sensors kicked in and he briefly saw a scrolling message pass over the glossy blue material: “Brace yourself for saturation.”

He didn’t have time to puzzle out what that was supposed to mean before the door blew off its seams with a muffled explosion and shot away into the darkness. And about a million gallons of seawater rushed in.

There was no chance to brace himself as the wave hit him and slammed him against the far bulkhead, the back of his head bouncing against the wall painfully. Water choked down his throat before he managed to close his mouth and he coughed and gagged as more flooded in to fill the ship.

First death by burning, now death by drowning. At least the fire’s gotta be out, he thought.

Rushing water was battering against him and it was a battle to keep his feet, but he knew that if he let himself get swept to the far end of the ship he would drown long before he managed to swim his way to freedom. All he could do was reach up with his good hand, grip the railing over the top of his head, and hold on.

Bracing himself in the doorway, water rushing all around him, stinging where it touched his burnt skin, Rascal Brand once again wondered what he’d been thinking when he’d joined the Service.

You thought you were going to help save the universe. You’d travel from planet to planet setting up food processing plants and teaching savages how to read Galactic Standard. He tightened his grip on the railing and closed his eyes. How was I supposed to know it was going to be like this? Partnered up with the biggest loser in the Service and stuck with the worst ship, the jinx; it’s a surprise we lasted as long as we did. And now I’m going to die here.

Cal tightened his lips. No, he refused to die like this, helpless and afraid, doing nothing to save himself.

He waited until the water stopped rushing past him, sucking in a last lungful of air before the water passed over the top of his head and he was fully submerged. Hoping desperately that the ship hadn’t sunk too far down, he released the rail and swam through the airlock toward the mysterious outside, bubbles caressing against his sides as the ridiculously outdated ship continued to pump oxygen.

Cal swam toward the surface as well as he could manage–he’d never been the best of swimmers and the murky water was thick with biologicals. He saw the shadow of creatures swimming around him and was vaguely terrified that he was going to be snatched up and eaten by some kind of aquapod. Mostly, he just wanted to breathe.

He released small bursts of air as he kicked his feet and arrowed his body up and up, or at least in the direction that he hoped was up. Knowing his recent string of luck, he wouldn’t be surprised if he hit bottom rather than reaching the surface. The last bit of irony before he died.

Cal dragged himself through the water, the emergency kit knocking against his hip with every furious kick. The slight amount of pain motivated him to keep moving even as his lungs burned and his head spun with spots and dizziness.

Kick, ow, kick, ow. As long as that pain was there, he knew that he was still moving, still desperately trying to survive. His ears were rushing and he could feel his consciousness beginning to fade. His kicks were losing their power and he knew he wasn’t going to make it. He was going to pass out any second and his body was going to drift down and down, picked apart by scavengers or left to rot away far from home. His mother was never going to know what happened to him. She would just assume that he’d screwed up one last time and gotten himself killed.

Clenching his teeth, he kicked and kicked and kicked until his legs seemed to disconnect from the rest of him. His world was contracting down into a pinprick, a narrow desperation for air. His lungs burned and he wanted more than anything to open his mouth and draw in a breath, but all he would get was a quicker death.

He’d rather go out fighting.

There was a strange, heady moment just before blacking out from oxygen deprivation. It felt as though his arms and legs were getting lighter and there was a sensation of drifting effortlessly through the water. Consciousness was fading, and to his oxygen starved brain it didn’t seem so bad. To stop and rest awhile. To close his eyes and just let go…

He broke the surface and greedily sucked in air. He floated on his back, his exhausted body a weight pulling down at him. He tipped his chin up to keep his mouth and nose out of the water. It was too much for him to swim anymore. He would drift awhile, at least until he got some energy back. Just a little while.

/EXCERPT

Let's Make Dumplings at Amazon

I have been working on my site — Kimichee.com — all day. Tuning up the featured images, adding some chapters, adding actual excerpt stuff. It’s been kind of fun, though I hate how much stuff I don’t know: programming, WordPress, art, anything to do with graphic design.

I know what I like when I see it, but I don’t know how to create that kind of … er, synergy? … There’s no cohesion when I look at stuff. I have a hard time getting from point A-Z, without going through all the steps between. So my website is kind of bland right now. Hopefully I can talk my brother around to making it better for me.

So as long as you’re not looking for the beautiful, you’ll find a lot of my stories available to read on my Master List page at Kimichee. The stories are:

  • The Panic Pure [HK] Blurb: A neurotic billionaire, a sympathetic FBI agent, and a serial killer cannibal. It could be a match made in something. mm, suspense, thriller, Adult.
  • Vedran’s Hand [HK] Blurb: Dragon Knight is the Emperor’s Hand. His duty is to perform any task that his master asks of him. He kills with a frightening ease. He is beautiful and terrible. How could Vedran not love him? pre-slash, fantasy, action, mature.
  • Idlewile [HK] Blurb: Raised in an orphanage, recruited by the State, Idlewile is the nation’s Idol. It is a lonely pedestal, and he feels himself fading away. It seems like a miracle when the goddess of the golden screen, Jessica Turan, steps into his life, bringing with her the Drama King Chris Hart. mm, mf, romance, teen+.
  • From Diamond to Coal [SC] Blurb: A genius, a Congressman, adventure, romance, and superscience: There are many things happening in this story. First chapters are in the future, then it goes back to the beginning and starts as a contemporary romance. mm, sci-fi, romance, mature.

They’re all Raw Feed. They will be completed and available as ebooks.

I’ve added Chapters Seventeen and Eighteen of The Panic Pure to Kimichee, and I’ll be adding them here too. I just have to get caught up on everything.


Pacific Rim — Remember when I was raving about this movie several months ago when I saw it in the theater? Well, I’ve got it on DVD now, and while it’s a good movie, I think all the fanfic has totally spoiled me. Seriously, I’ve read that story where Hermann is a woman, Hermione, and she and Newt are totally the science couple; it was the greatest read of the season. Or I read that one where Raleigh is a werewolf and there’s all kinds of romance with Chuck Hansen. Hell, I’ve even dabbled a little myself.

Sometime between watching the movie in the theater and yesterday, Pacific Rim took on the glossy gleam of memory. Or maybe it was the drop in quality from Blu-Ray to DVD. Whatever happened, some of the magic was gone. Still a great action giant robot monster movie, but it was absolutely amazing on a giant screen.


Here, because I love you. Have a little something:

Title: Dude, There’s A Body In Your Bathtub
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: general, crime family, dead body, amoral people
Rating: teen+
Summary: Just 850 words of what the title says. There’s a body in the bathtub.

“Hey, dude, did you know you’ve got a dead body in your tub?” the obnoxiously loud voice of Sean asked.

Jude groaned and shoved his face hard into his pillow for a silent scream. Then he calmly lifted his head and asked, “Do you know who it is?”

“No clue,” Sean said. He stepped half through the doorway, his face still turned down the hall. He could see through the open bathroom door. “The body’s beat ragged.”

“There’s an unidentified body in the bathtub. Is that what you’re telling me?” Jude sat up in bed, not even bothering to pull the covers up to hide his skinny chest. He’d known Sean forever.

Sean shrugged and glanced at him. “Pretty much.”

“Great.” Jude scrubbed a hand across his face. “Just the kind of thing I love waking up to.”

He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He paused there a moment, his left hand ready to snatch out and catch the headboard. He didn’t fall. He took it as a win.

Jude hobbled over to his walker and grabbed hold of it. Never mind that using it made him feel like an old man, he preferred it to being trapped in a wheelchair. Surgery and physio had only been able to do so much.

Dressing was one of those tasks that took more time than he would have imagined pre-mangled legs. But he was grateful for everything he was allowed to experience, especially after all the wishes and prayers he had expended just to make it this far.

Finally he was wearing jeans and a knit sweater. He didn’t bother with the hassle of socks and slipped his bare feet into a pair of clogs. He was too cool to be embarrassed about unfortunate footwear.

“All right. Show me this body you speak of,” he said.

“Come on.”

Jude followed Sean down the hallway to the guest bathroom. He couldn’t help wondering if he should be more upset. A dead body in the bathtub should have him flipping out. Instead, he just felt irritated and wondered where he was supposed to dispose of it.

Sean pushed the door all the way open and waved his hand. “There he is.”

Jude looked and slumped forward against the handles of his walker.

There was a body in the bathtub. A big, dark haired guy with a smashed in face. He was lying on his back, his leather jacket open to show off his blood spattered gray tee shirt and the alley grime smeared across the knees of his jeans.

“Shit. I don’t know who that is, but we’re going to have to get rid of him,” Jude said. “Do we have any acid or anything?”

“Acid, really?” Sean huffed loudly. “Dude, you’ve got a dead guy in your bathroom and you’re talking about using acid. Isn’t there someone we should call? How did you manage to sleep through this guy being dumped here anyway?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Jude said. “I was kind of drugged out of my mind last night.” At Sean’s look, he hastened to add, “It was the only way I could get to sleep.” He wasn’t ashamed. The pain had been bad.

“Where was Eric when this was all going down?” Sean asked.

Jude snorted. “He’s the one that did this. I don’t have a single doubt in my head about that. Though I’m kind of pissed he left the job half finished.” He rubbed his face. “Why the hell would he leave a body here for me to deal with?”

“Because we were out of the big garbage bags.”

He jumped and twisted his neck to see Eric walking toward him on catlike feet. “You scared the crap out of me,” Jude said.

Eric flashed his movie star smile and held up the box of heavy-duty large black garbage bags. “I’ll get everything ready to move. I promise this guy will be out of here tonight.”

Jude sighed and carefully maneuvered himself back out of the bathroom. “Why did you even bring this guy here in the first place?”

“It wasn’t my plan,” Eric said. “You were completely out of it, so you slept through this guy busting in. I had to handle him quick, but I didn’t have any supplies here to clean up after.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Jude said. They couldn’t call the authorities unless they wanted to be busted themselves. They had no choice but to handle things themselves. “Just make sure you clean it up good. No evidence.”

Eric gave him a thumb’s up. “On it.”

Jude looked at Sean. “Come on, dude. This is none of our business.”

Sean jerked a nod. “I’m glad to be out of it. This is not my scene.”

“Don’t worry. I would never drag you into it,” Eric said. “You’re a good kid, Sean. Stay that way.”

“What about me?” Jude asked. “Aren’t I a good kid?”

“Well, you’re all right,” Eric teased.

“Whatever.” Jude led Sean to his bedroom. He firmly closed the door behind them.

/ EXCERPT

* * *

Have a great day. Hope you enjoyed the read.

Kakushigoto 01 at Amazon

Truly, Vereint is desperate to fit into normal life. I think that’s what I like about him. Sure, he messes up, but he tries hard. He just can’t help it that sometimes he forgets how breakable other people are.

Title: Allies & Enemies – Chapter Three
Author: Harper Kingsley
World: Heroes & Villains
Genre: mm superhero novel
Rating: mature
A/N: Sequel to Heroes & Villains.
Summary: Chapter One & Two HERE (opens in another window.) Chapter Three has Vereint panicking over his parents wanting to meet Melissa. Yet Warrick can’t be found.

 

CHAPTER THREE

Life with Melissa wasn’t all roses and happiness. She was a grieving girl, and once the shocked placidness wore off, she was a bit of a spitfire. There were definite traces of a brat in there.

There were a couple of times where Vereint had to remind himself that he wasn’t a supervillain anymore. There were a couple of times where Warrick had to remind him rather forcibly as well, though those little scuffles usually ended in fabulous makeup sex, so he didn’t mind that as much. Still, having a kid around was a whole different world for them. It added depth to their relationship or something.

Vereint’s mom, Sandra, barely gave him any warning before she was in a car with Patrick and Hank, promising a long visit. She was desperate to see her new granddaughter and she wasn’t going to let anything get in her way, Vereint included. Not that he would ever try to block her from anything–he wasn’t that stupid.

His mother was a force of nature wrapped up in a human skin.

Instead, he made sure the apartment was immaculate. He liked hearing Melissa’s soft giggles as he raced around at human speed washing dishes, folding laundry, vacuuming, and preparing a feast for their guests.

“You could help me, you know,” he said, giving her a sideways glance. She was curled up on the couch, her little feet wearing brightly colored striped socks.

She shrugged. “I could. But you seem to be having a lot of fun.”

He switched off the vacuum cleaner and put his hands on his hips. “That’s it, little lady. Get your hiney off the couch and go make sure your room is clean. My mom’s going to want to see it first thing to make sure you’re not living in squalor.”

There was a visible shifting behind her eyes, as though she was contemplating telling him to go shove it. Finally, she threw her feet off the couch and stood up, padding quietly toward her room.

“I’ll be in with fresh sheets in about ten minutes,” he called after her. “I don’t want to see a single toy on the floor.”

“Gotcha!” she called back.

Vereint stood there for a long moment. His life really had become something very different and strange, yet it was a good kind of strange. Warm and quietly happy.

He shook his head and switched the vacuum cleaner on, going back to making sure all the lines in the carpet bent the same way. He paused midway through to light the scented candles on the coffee table and on both end tables, sniffing contentedly as he worked.

He glanced at the decorative sun-faced clock on the wall and had to wonder where Warrick was and when he was going to be home. Warrick had promised that he would be here when the Georges appeared.

Fortress in the Eye of Time at Amazon

Title: Paradigm Shift
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: mm science fiction
Rating: mature
Status: WIP
Notes: This is a State Rule story. There are Judges, Law Officers, and zombies.
Warnings: genetic modification capability of mpreg, mentions of forced breeding, fascist society, post-zombie apocalypse
A/N: I’m posting the Gregor POVs at my LJ in 500-1000+ word bursts. The version that will be available for purchase will have Dylan’s POVs, and his part of the story includes the intrigue and action happening in the backgound. Dylan’s actually scarily bad ass.

Summary: Gregor has been living as a Two for most of his life, but it’s a lie. He’s really a Third. And now he’s been found out and pulled into the lives of one of the great Families.

“I am a member of the Family,” Park stated as though it was everyday kind of news, and to him it probably was. Gregor was shocked enough for two people. “The Family requested that I assess you for the possibility of merging your genome with the Duadenora.”

“And I passed?” Gregor hadn’t meant to ask, but the words had slipped out.

Park looked amused. “So far.”

Chapter One: 0102   
Chapter Two: 03040506   
Chapter Three: 07080910   
Chapter Four: 1112   
Chapter Five: 13141516171819   
Chapter Six: 202122232425   
Chapter Seven: 2627282930   
Chapter Eight: 31323334   
Chapter Nine: 3536373839   
Chapter Ten: 40414243   
Chapter Eleven: 44454647   
Chapter Twelve: 48495051   
Chapter Thirteen: 525354   
Chapter Fourteen: 555657   
Chapter Fifteen: 585960   
Chapter Sixteen: 6162   
Chapter Seventeen: 6364 – 65 –

Gregor Tierney. Magister Dylan Park. Zero Park. Judge Rulf Tersoe.

EXCERPT:
This story is rated: Mature (for violence and sex)

He didn’t hesitate a moment to slide into Park’s abandoned spot and peer out through the observation hole. He had to kind of mash his face close to see, but he didn’t care.

Their balcony overlooked the whole theater. People were huddled in groups around the seats, their finery in disarray and their expressions terrified. The Players had been hustled off the stage and shoved in amongst the Patrons, their brightly colored costumes contrasting sharply.

There had to be over a dozen members of the Halcyon Horde standing by with weapons slung. They wore black and blue camo pants, black boots, and heavy flak vests. Each of their faces was covered with the flat black mask of the Horde, the only color the gold outlining the eye holes.

Gregor winced when the leader of the Horde cell opened fire on a woman in a red dress. A man had been holding her in his arms, and when the multicolored blast hit her directly in the chest, the man too went down with a choked cry, his limbs flailing before going still. The woman died without a sound.

“Now you see that we are serious,” the leader’s voice was strange and mechanical. He had a voice distorter built into his mask. “Would you like to live?”

No one said anything, too terrified of giving a wrong answer.

“I said, would you like to live?” the leader asked. “Answer me!”

“Yes! Yes we want to live!” “Please don’t kill us!” Hundreds of voices shouted out, pleading for their lives.

The leader laughed and turned to one of his own men. “You see how easy it is? You threaten the safety of the herd, and the individuals fall over themselves to spare their own lives. Pathetic.”

He turned and shot a young man; the guy was just a kid really, probably still a teenager. An older man shouted something–a name–and made to go to his son, but his wife held him back. She was crying, but resolute. Her husband stopped resisting.

Gregor had seen violence before, but it had always been through the safe medium of a view Screen. This… this was real and horrible and he hated his sense of helplessness, but there was nothing he could do to help. He had no training and no real weapons.

But Park does, an insidious voice whispered in his mind.

Park had weapons and training and he was out there, planning something to save the hostages. Something dangerous enough that he hadn’t been sure he would survive it, which is why he had told Gregor to stay hidden.

The leader of the Horde was still talking, rambling on about human weakness and animal herds and blah, blah, totally crazy, blah. Gregor had spotted Zero surrounded by the circle of his Family bodyguards. He was sitting quietly, not making a fuss, not drawing any attention to himself.

Gregor couldn’t help admitting that Zero had impressed him a bit. The guy had seemed like a complete airhead when Gregor first met him, the kind of useless, ornamental rich guy that wasted all of his opportunities by not even realizing what he had going for him. But Zero really knew how to be a good hostage. He didn’t even look afraid.

Gregor had been staring at Zero, so he was just as surprised as everyone else when the leader of the Horde developed a hole where his right eye used to be. The shot punched through the lens of his mask and continued on into his brain.

His legs folded up and he dropped to the floor. Dead.

There were screams from the hostages and the Halcyon Horde members started waving their guns around wildly, trying to triangulate where the shot had come from. There was no sign of Park.

When a female Horde member tried to scoop up the dropped Tumbler, her hand was barely an inch away before she was struck between the shoulder blades and was sent flopping forward, her spine severed. She aspirated a bit of blood across the polished floor and her limbs twitched minutely, then she died.

Gregor covered his mouth with his hand. His breathing was loud and wheezy to his own ears. His paranoia insisted they would be able to hear him.

/ EXCERPT