Sneak-Peek: Good Intentions Iiiin Spaaaace! (Patreon)

Again, it's not *really* Good Intentions. There's no Rachel or Alex or magic. This book is coming along, and it's leaning into the same blend of comedy, action, and steamy fun.

It won't be as long as Good Intentions. I'm at 70k words now and I feel like I see the climax arc in sight, which could be long... but as a matter of reference, the Wandering Monsters books are around 80k words, and the first Poor Man's Fight is something over 140k-ish.

My writing has definitely picked up in the last few weeks. I kinda doubt we'll see this out before the end of the year, because even if I blast through the last of the rough in August there'll still be revisions and the need for a cover (and I have NO IDEA if Audible will pick this up)... but gosh, it'd be real nice to publish something before 2021 is over.

As an aside: Any objections to another collection of the short stories here? I don't know if I'd put the first sales to charity this time like I did last time, because reasons, but I feel like it's nice to have all the stories compiled somewhere.

Anyway, "No Longer Titled 'Hard Restart'" is chugging along, and while there are ups, there are also downs!

Someone kicked the back of Riley’s knee, knocking him to the floor. The Yiseeph maintained his twisting armlock. Riley overcame the pain to open his wincing eyes to a semicircle of armed guards ready to shoot him. Good old Lieutenant Pelton and that Nelaen in white stood in the middle. Another kick to his side left Riley wincing and gasping.

“Do we require introductions, Riley? Do you know who I am?” asked the Nelaen.

Riley shook his head. “Intros would help,” he managed.

“Your voice wavers. Are you frightened?”

“The gut punches might have something to do with it.”

“Fair enough. My name is Tibrun. I own this place. This is my home, my business, my party.” Tibrun watched and waited. “You didn’t know. You react like you know the name, but not the face until now. Interesting. Why are you here?”

“Working.”

“Mm-hm.” Tibrun nodded to his men. Another shot came in at Riley’s side. The Yiseeph gave his armlock an extra twist. Riley grunted through it and forced himself to breathe. Tibrun kept watching. “You endure pain well. Pit fights, I understand? Something about a tough childhood? Have you ever been interrogated, Riley? You were an intelligence specialist. A desk worker, but I’m sure you understand what that means, yes? You went to some trouble to prevent Mr. Pelton here from interrogating someone back in your military days. That got you thrown out of the service. You understand there’s no lawyer and no system to protect you here?”

“Yeah, I gathered.” Riley’s minimal training identified some tactics already: establishing prior knowledge, denying hope, offering an easier path. He knew how much uglier this could get.

He also had questions of his own, and so he used the one tactic he and Tibrun had: he waited.

“So many people are looking for you,” said Tibrun. “Your former crew. Toquii. Something about a betrayal and stolen goods. Toquii put up better money, of course. Fewer details, too. That part interests me. Maybe your captain thinks it’s necessary. Maybe Toquii doesn’t have those details—or maybe he has more. The competing bids are interesting. They also wouldn’t be worth my time. I’d leave it to my people here as a freelancing opportunity if it ended there.

“Other people looking for you, too. You know that, right? They are associates of mine.” Tibrun leaned in. “All these people looking for you. All this trouble, and you walk into my party. You ‘work’ as talent, with one of my consultants. And you wore distortion gel to fool security scans.” Tibrun grabbed Riley by the jaw and wiped his thumb roughly over Riley’s cheek. “Why are you here?”

“I cn’t tlk lk ths,” Riley managed through gritted teeth and scrunched lips.