Royce's Random Thoughts

 The Complete Red Vixen Adventures is now available for pre-order in both Kindle ($5.99) and trade paperback ($19.99) for a June 1st. 2017 release.

Since 2011 readers have enjoyed the adventures of the Darktail family and their entanglements with the vivacious space pirate, the Red Vixen. Now this brand new collection gathers all the major stories in the series Captive of the Red Vixen, Shadow of the Red Vixen, Shadow of Her Sins, Shadow of Doubt, The Red Vixen at Sea and I Fought the Claw and the Claw Won, plus two never before published short stories "Solstice Gifts" and "The Parable of the Glassblower" along with an appendix featuring fun world building notes.

Wrote a up prologue to The Visitors, which I want to try and finish before beating my head against a potential For Your Safety novel.


***


“You know, vacations are usually for relaxation,” Melanie observed dryly. Rolas’ wife was dressed in Commoner culottes and a crop top shirt, sitting in half-lotus atop a workbench in the car barn, one leg dangling idly over the edge. The wooden barn held a small steam tender Rolas had been puttering over for the past week, the large doors propped open to let a breeze into the un-air conditioned space.

Rolas was finishing lowering a superheater tube into the boiler of the small, colorfully painted narrow-gauge steam engine, his shirt off, dressed only in his shorts and a pair of heavy leather foot protectors to save his toes from being sliced off by errant bits of iron.

“This is relaxing,” he said, biceps straining under his brown pelt, paws holding on tight to the chain running through the block and tackle. He lowered the tube down the last few centimeters into its waiting slot, and then secured the loose end of the chain to a bolt set in a nearby pillar.

“It’d be more relaxing if you used a proper tractor-pressor unit to save you from all of that work,” she pointed out.

“I’m trying to use original materials and techniques while I restore this,” he replied proudly, slipping the foot protectors off and setting them on the workbench.

“The original Mr. Puff is sitting in a museum back in town. The one you’re working on is a replica that was built two hundred years ago using modern techniques,” Melanie said, hopping off the bench and pressing up against him. Rolas smelled very male today, sweating from the work and summer’s heat, with a perfume of machine oil.

“Principle’s the same,” he replied, voice a bit muffled as he nuzzled her neck. She let out a pleased purr, her tail waving happily as he pushed her back against the workbench, feeling his paw reach under her shirt to stroke her back. Yes, with just the two of them here, without even servants at this small country estate in the deep woods, well away from the nearest town, this was the most privacy they’d had since their children had gone to visit their aunts on Greenholme.

“Mmmm, hmm. Less engineering, more sex,” Melanie advised, nibbling his ear tip.

Rolas snorted a laugh into her pelt. “Not even advanced hydraulics?”

“Well that I could get into…”

( We interrupt this scene for a bit of family history. )

Bellwether blinked, as the black cloth bag was pulled off her head. After she'd been grabbed, coughing and crying, out of the van by that huge wolf, she'd been stuffed, still pawcuffed, into the trunk of a sedan and driven around the city for almost an hour. Then the car had stopped and she'd been pulled out into a totally dark room, had the bag plopped over her head and moved up several flights of stairs to wherever she was now. She could smell comforting scent of old, dusty books, driving out the lingering smell of tear gas in her wool.

The world came into focus. She was in a library, or at least secure book depository, the shelves around her surrounded by a chain link cage. Standing in front of her on the other side of the cage was the tall wolf, mask removed, revealing penetrating gray eyes. Next to him was a shorter Persian leopardess and on his other side a small bespectacled marten leaning on a cane, and looming behind them a tall, furry bear. The leopard had a soy steak, or least Bellwether hoped it was soy, speared on a wicked looking combat knife, and was chewing on it idly. The bear, by contrast, seemed to be happily munching on a paperback copy of I, Robot.

( You are being stalked... er, watched. )

The sun was falling into the sea when rescue finally arrived. Rolas remained face down in the sand, exhausted from his ordeal, the remains of the ardalian’s tentacle hanging from his spine like an obscene second tail. Melanie left him briefly to grab the first aid kit and walk up the stairs for the fifth bloody time to check on the wazagan. It was still shuddering and otherwise unresponsive, though it had stopped crying and muttering to herself. Melanie gave it a shot of a universal anti-shock medication, and the poor creature finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

( Letting go of old pain. )

The worst was the bit with the reef. The lifejacket’s little AI was bound and determined to keep her facing tail towards the the water, snout in the air, which made it difficult to watch and time the waves, and start kicking in a one armed backstroke as they crested the reef. She only barely managed it, feeling her tail catch in the sharp coral as she swam clear, managing to avoid by some miracle of the Mother Goddess ripping her back open on it. The retreating waves threatened to carry past the boat itself, but she managed to tangle her arms with the sail’s lines, then wrapped her arms and legs around the mast itself.

And now for the really stupid part. Feeling her fingers already growing stiff in the cold surf, she yanked at the manual release catches for the lifejacket. It let out an electronic wail of protest as she slipped off, its complaints soon carried with it away in the waves.

( Diving for Chekov's Gun )

Well that’s completely non-reassuring, she thought, stifling a sudden urge to giggle in hysteria. The only saving grace they had at the moment was that they were still hidden, and their opponents were both unarmed and sickly looking. Still, it’s two to one, neither of us are in full health either, and even a half-dead wazagan has a significant advantage in strength over either of us. Mother Goddess she wished she still Alinadar. Even unarmed the little bodyguard would have made short work of all these creatures.

She backed up further, rising to a crouch with Rolas as they went deeper into the trees and brush. Melanie gripped his paw tightly, listening as the quartet called out again for their surrender.

“What do we do?” Rolas asked softly, when they were perhaps ten meters distant.

( Good question )

Melanie and Rolas, lacking food, water, and options, start hunting for their mysterious watchers.

Note: After some consideration, I've revised the main manuscript to reinstate Rolas' memory loss, which will be Plot Important later.

* * *

The night wore on interminably. Melanie spent it trading naps with Rolas, though he stayed up far longer than she did. When she did sleep she used Rolas’ lap as a pillow, his tail curling over her chest to ward off  the chill. Even so she still felt exhausted as dawn finally broke, her pelt itching as the seawater dried off from her afternoon swim.

“So do we stay or explore?” Rolas wondered out loud. He grimaced in embarrassment as his stomach let out a loud grumble.

“Explore,” she said reluctantly, probing her lips with her tongue, feeling the dried and cracked surface. “We have to find food and water, especially water, before we’re unable to move.”

( Be careful exploring. You might find something. )

Kevin dropped Nick off back at his new place. One of the advantages of having a steady salary was that he could afford a bit better than “Box under a bridge” these days. One of the disadvantages was that it was the same lousy apartment complex as Judy, because a cop’s salary only went so far, especially when he was still sending half of it to his mom each month.

His call to Chief Bogo had been short, and predictable. Bogo didn’t like the idea of a gang war any more than Nick did, especially with the awkward complication that it might be triggered because one of the city’s most recently decorated officers had family ties to one of the gang’s in question. The chief had hung up muttering, after ordering him to get some sleep finally.

( In Which Nick Has Too Much Time to Think )

Nick had to get some sleep. He knew he had to get some sleep. This shift had started over twenty-four hours ago. He and Judy had just been ready to drive back to the station at the end of their normal twelve hours when he had spotted the Russian polar bear climbing out of an SUV and heading down towards one of the warehouses by the docks. Why the hell hadn't he just let the guy go on his merry way was beyond his ability to reason now. Of course once he had pointed him out to Judy there was no stopping her from following the bear to see what he was up to.

( Never get Family involved in Business )