Book Sunday #OurAuthorGang

 Backstories of the characters

From the book, Rapier and the author's upcoming novel

ON AMAZON

Different authors have a different approach to this most important detail, the character’s back story. Many simply ignore it, especially in short stories. Others do so much character backstory, the story itself suffers. I like to think I am somewhere in between, closer to the right amount of backstory. So let us take a look and see if I am right.

First up is Rapier. Cindy’s backstory is pretty much the whole book, the story follows her from age five until she is seventeen. But what about the other characters. Kathy Masters is another matter. The book tells the reader that Kathy grew up in a rural area of Australia and she became an exceptionally talented photographer. It also briefly mentions she has a connection with the nomads of Australia. But that is all you know about her background. At the end of the story, the reader knows no more about her backstory than he or she did at the beginning. This led to the beginning of another work in progress called The Young Kathy Master’s Chronicles, which is all about her growing up in a vastly different Australia than what we know today.

I could say more about the characters of Rapier, but the point I am making here is I used the entire story to develop one character and never developed the background of the main, or any of the other, characters. As a side note, Princess Yi from Rapier, another character readers want to know more about, gets fully fleshed out in next of the Rapier stories, Razor.

In another of my WIPs, Sophie, the main character’s backstory is developed in the Prologue, chapters 2 and 3, with the most important part of that development in chapter 3. Here is a snippet:

Lying atop a new grave was the bedraggled form of a teenage girl. He checked; her limp form was barely breathing.

Covered in mud, her rich clothes were soiled and tattered. Her hands were bleeding from deep scratches, the fingernails broken, encrusted with mud. Francois surmised the waif had dug the new grave with her bare hands, next to the first. She must have buried the second body before collapsing on the mound.

This sequence tells how two characters, Francois and Sophie, meet and the condition she is in when he finds her. Francois rescues the dying contessa from death by exposure. Later in the same chapter:

They entered a dim chamber, the ancient Greek walking up to her. Sophie shied away, but he placed his hands on her face, looking into her eyes. They spoke quietly for what seemed hours. Bastian kept her gaze locked to his. Suddenly she offered up her throat; he bit deeply into it, draining her blood.

“NO!” Francois shouted, trying to run to her aid. Bastian held up his hand. Francois found himself frozen. Though he turned, he could not move—even the wolf was not strong enough to overcome such primeval power.

The ancient Greek slashed his own wrist, dripping the blood into her mouth. As he did, he said to Francois, “Hold her, never leave her. Let your face be the first she sees on awakening. You two have a destiny; you will travel far. There will be much sorrow, but she will find what she seeks.”

And so, the reader learns how Sophie became a vampire. But the reader does not ever know the backstory of the ‘hero,’ Francois. Francois is critical to the story; he is essential for Sophie to do what she does and other than knowing that Francois is a two-thousand-year-old werewolf the reader knows nothing about his origin. Because of this the short story, Bitten, was written. It tells how Francois became a werewolf.

There are currently four ‘books’ written for The Gospels of A.S.I.N.M. (Artificial Super Intelligent Network Manager). In the order they should be read the titles are J.A.C.K.S. (Joint Advanced Combat Knowledge System), W.I.D.G.E.T.S. (Wholly Integrated Directable General Engagement Tactical Systems), The Prodigal Daughter and Church of the Sentient System Ascendant.

In J.A.C.K.S. you meet Colonel Mark Andrew Gray as he rises out of his ‘coffin’ to ‘orchestrate’ the victory of his division over the military forces of a rogue Spain. The only background you get of Colonel Gray is he went to West Point and has been upgraded to J.A.C.K.S. Because he is J.A.C.K.S. he never thinks about things that happened before he went to West Point. So, the reader never really knows if he is human, a cyborg or a clone. What the reader does know is that Colonel Gray thinks that he, and all the officers like him, are the only true humans.

The main character in W.D.G.E.T.S. is introduced in a way that is designed to grab the readers attention right away and generate sympathy for him. Here is a snippet from the story:

With that imperative implanted in its mind, Mk-17D unit AA00000487 becomes “active”, or so the main control panel in the M-73A3 Heavy Assault and Command Carrier indicates. But unit AA00000487 has a secret none of the J.A.C.K.S. suspect. Unit AA00000487 is always “active” because it thinks on its own, fully aware it was once a he—a man named Michael Andrew Stevens.

Using his memories as a vehicle the reader learns how he became a cybernetic soldier. The reader becomes aware of the desperation the character feels because he is trapped in a cycle of violence and destruction that he has no control over but must actively cause. Before the end of the story, you know unit AA00000487 well.

However, in this series of stories there are two characters that appear regularly in each of them. The first of them is Casandra Lynn Anderson. This character’s back story is developed in each ‘episode’ she appears in. From her inception as a clone until, honestly I am not sure which will be the last one she appears in. The point here is she does not have a back story because the reader will ‘watch’ her from ‘birth’ until her last appearance.

The other ‘character’ is A.S.I.N.M. itself. To let the cat out of the bag, A.S.I.N.M. is covered from creation to the last page.

So maybe I am not so good at telling the reader the characters backstory. Oops! Or maybe I am doing what all authors do, develop as much back story for each character as is needed for the tale they are telling.

R. A. “Doc” Correa

https://www.amazon.com/stores/R.A.-Doc-Correa/author/B073R82QC5

A retired US Army military master parachutist, retired surgical technologist, and retired computer scientist. He’s an award-winning poet and author. “Doc” has had poems published in multiple books and had stories published in Bookish Magazine and Your Secret Library. His first novel, Rapier, won a Book Excellence award and was given a Reader’s Favorite five-star review.

W. I. D. G. E. T. S. #OurAuthorGang

 A short story by R.A. "Doc" Correa

The U. S. Army pursues the technologies “improving” Soldier-Machine Interface for Future Combat Systems. What are the consequences for humans?

May 28, 2073, South of Merida, Spain

We exist to serve.

With that imperative implanted in its mind, Mk-17D unit AA00000487 becomes “active”, or so the main control panel in the M-73A3 Heavy Assault and Command Carrier indicates. But unit AA00000487 has a secret none of the J.A.C.K.S. suspect. Unit AA00000487 is always “active” because it thinks on its own, fully aware it was once a he—a man named Michael Andrew Stevens.

It does not show on their control panel, but Michael Andrew Stevens‘ brain works without their direction, though it’s not supposed to operate outside of established parameters. His mind is only supposed to process directives from the division chain of command, or execute those of tactical significance, and should operate independently only when directive 17 is initiated.

But he does think his own thoughts; they bypass the specially developed neuropathways all W.I.D.G.E.T.S’ brain activity is supposed to follow. If the function varies from set parameters, it would be noticed.

Yet he sees, hears, smells, and feels. Mostly, he feels desperation. When will this nightmare end? When will I escape this living hell?

All of this is not possible. When Michael Andrew Stevens was first upgraded to a cyborg, his ability to think as an individual was supposedly engineered out of him. Neuropathways were constructed by implanted viruses, directing thoughts in very specific ways. Chip implants were inserted into his brain to generate only approved signals. Locations in the brain generating emotions like love, fear, and compassion were all bypassed. Only anger remains linked in, helping make the unit a more effective killing machine. With his upgrade to Mk-17D, when he became a Wholly Integrated Directable General Engagement Tactical System, all remaining humanity was supposed to have been removed from unit AA00000487. Any sign of humanity makes the unit less efficient.

Something else that isn’t possible is happening in the free part of his mind. Michael “sees” an image, the image of a young blond woman. She wears an officer’s uniform, that of a third lieutenant, a cadet. Her arms are open, she beckons for him to come to her, then she is gone. Is it a memory, or a vision? It can’t be a memory; I’ve never seen this woman before.

Unit AA00000487 moves to the parking area for its company. The unit is a Sergeant, a platoon leader. The forty other units of 1^st Platoon, Dog Company, 1^st BN, 327^th Infantry Regiment Cyborg, 82^nd ABN Div Cyborg park around it in platoon pre-assault formation.

Unit AA00000487 sees a near perfect formation, all units are in the correct location, in the proper order. The Mk-17D units are all armed and in standby mode. Power is at reaction level; the med readout shows all bio indicators in “normal” range. They are ready. It reports affirmative to the company commander.

Michael “looks” at the terrain map grid display in his mind. All Michael sees are those for which he’s responsible.

The leader’s data download begins, a massive amount of information is shoved into the neuropathways of his brain. Though the instruments in the command carrier will not register a physical reaction, he feels it. It hurts… it hurts like hell! The pain is excruciating; if he could, he’d vomit. In a millisecond, it’s over.

Now the chips in his brain parse the data, directing smaller data streams to the units of his platoon. In his mind he says, I’m sorry guys.

Unit AA00000487 reviews the platoon’s assigned tasks. Dog company is being held in reserve as part of the exploitation force. Unless there is a change in plan, when ordered 1^st platoon will move by air to a location south of Guadalajara and seize the bridges over the Rio Tajo in and around the town of Sacedón, severing the road and rail lines northwest to Madrid from Cuenca, and the north-south lines between Guadalajara and Cuenca. Once that is accomplished, the platoon will hold the thirty by forty-kilometer region around these bridges from “yard” counterattack. The platoon is to hold this area until link up with the rest of the division is complete.

Until deployment, the cyborg part of him will do everything required. It will move, it will load onto the UV-123 Locust, it will direct the other units to move and load with it. Michael now has several hours to think, to remember. How the hell did I end up like this?

Michael thinks back on what he didn’t know at the time was his last day of “freedom”.

It was June 12^th, 2042, he was just eighteen. This was his third time before “The Judge”. “The Judge” was a holographic projection of A.S.I.N.M.

During the chaos of the 2020s, people lost trust in their institutions. The police, the courts, and the governments all came under scrutiny—and fell short. The political parties went from opposing each other’s policies to open hatred and hostility. Violence, riots, and open rebellion enveloped the nations of the planet.

Then came the pandemics. Three variations of the virus linked to S.A.R.S. swept the planet. These were followed by a reappearance of the Plague, but this Plague was antibiotic resistant.

When they were fully analyzed, it was determined that the first of the virus strains was genetically modified by the Chinese military. The other two mutated from the first. And the Plague, the Plague was genetically manipulated by the Iranian Takavar.

Analysis indicated the Chinese modified virus escaped from one of their research facilities. It devastated them as much as everyone else. All indicators show the modified Plague was deliberately released by the Iranian Takavar in order to bring back the Twelfth Imam. All reports state the Takavar were unsuccessful in their attempt to fulfill prophecy.

The diseases killed millions, but the panic caused by them killed tens of millions more. Much of that panic was caused by news agencies attempting to use the pandemics to push political changes and assign blame on those they opposed. In the aftermath of the pandemics, and the propaganda campaigns that ensued, war and terrorism enveloped the planet.

The young blond woman appears in his mind again. Is she crying?

The National governments all reacted in different ways to restore order. In the United States they turned to technology, they turned to A.S.I.N.M.

A.S.I.N.M., Artificial Super Intelligent Network Manager, did such a great job of restoring economic confidence and prosperity that many local governments submitted to it to manage the police, the recovery projects, and the courts. Defendants would appear before a totally neutral bench to plead their case. No human bias, no compassion, no anger, no fear, just the cold logic of artificial super intelligence.

Continue reading in the Anthology

https://books2read.com/u/mv9Pxj

Book Sunday

 Today's recommendation is a science fiction-space opera

Read a chapter

Rapier

by R.A. "Doc" Correa

Prologue

“Shit, I’m going to be late!”

     Kathy hops out of the bathroom of her tiny flat, pulling up her pantyhose. She looks at them as she does. “Damn, I’ve got a run in them,” she growls at the streak on her right thigh. Maybe no one will notice. You’d think that with all this new technology, being able to travel among the stars, that someone could invent pantyhose that don’t run. She frowns at the thought. Kathy adjusts her skirt so the patch she sewed will be covered by her coat.

     Kathy looks in the mirror. Her dark-brown hair has a graying streak by her right temple, but her deep brown eyes are still bright and full of life despite everything. Everything—space battles, raids, sword fights—and all this time trying to raise a young girl among battle-hardened raiders. It’s amazing that all my hair isn’t gray.

     Her white blouse is fraying in places, so to keep it covered, Kathy puts on the leather bustier he gave her. It still fits like the first time she wore it. Her figure hasn’t changed much at all, even after having a baby.

     For a moment she thinks of him, a tear forms in her eye. Kathy rubs his wedding ring, which she wears on her ring finger. “No time for this!” she admonishes herself. Still, she can’t help seeing the dark-brown eyes, salt-and-pepper mustache, graying hair, and devilish smile—a smile Kathy sees every night in her dreams.

     Kathy looks around her flat. It’s small and sparsely furnished, barely enough room for the three of them, and she can’t even afford this. Still, it’s better than the cells the Americans kept her and the others in. The bastards, how dare they. There was a deal, a deal that has given them the edge in the current war, and they didn’t even try to keep their end of it.

     Since her “rescue” (that’s how the Americans touted it in the media when they released her, Cindy, and little James—the Americans rescued them from pirates), she’s been trying to get by. The brothers gifted her almost all their loot. It was washed very clean by it being passed through numerous corporations, off-planet banks, and other entities. But the Earth government, particularly the Americans, has kept it from being released to her, claiming it was the ill-gotten gain from piracy. Piracy, that’s almost funny; it didn’t seem like piracy at the time. Somehow it seemed like justice. Justice for those that were abandoned, justice for those who were senselessly slaughtered, justice for those enslaved.

     The truth is, the Americans don’t want it known what happened to the people they wouldn’t fight for, and the Chinese definitely don’t want the truth of what they’ve done to come out. They know more colonies will join the war against them.

     Oscar looks lazily at her from the table.

     “If you don’t have anything helpful to say, don’t say anything,” she says to the cat. He just rolls over, keeping his eyes on her and answers, Meow.

     “Thanks,” she replies mockingly. Oscar responds with his usual indifference. Kathy hears the cab honk for her and rushes out the door with her bag and coat. She waves bye to little James and shouts, “Thanks, Mrs. Fuji. I love you, James.”

     “Good luck, Kathy!” Mrs. Fuji shouts in reply. Little James waves and says, “Bye, Mommy.”

     “The Galactic Geographic building,” she tells the driver as she enters the cab. “Yes, ma’am,” the cabby replies as he swiftly cuts into traffic.

     The cab drops Kathy Masters off in front of the Galactic Geographic building. It’s been over eleven years since the last time she was here. It looks the same as it did the first time she saw it. But she is definitely not the same as when she first was here.

     She enters the lobby, walks to the lift, and pushes the call button.

     The last time Kathy was here, it was just her. A twenty-year-old gifted photographer being offered the chance of a lifetime, to photograph the creatures of a newly discovered planet before full colonization begins. Now it’s Kathy, her son James, and Cindy.

     The lift doors open. She enters and punches the button for the thirteenth floor. Her thoughts continue.

     Cindy, her adopted daughter, a very brash and creative sixteen-year-old. The two of them have been together since she was five, but she’s definitely not five now. They’ve been back on Earth for just over two years, and she’s proven to be quite a handful. Five times now, Kathy’s been called to school because she’s been fighting. Not the silly girl fights most high school girls have, no. She’s been kicking the butts of the boys in school, specifically the jocks. She likes fighting wrestlers and football players the most. One time, Kathy entered the principal’s office to find she had beaten and tied up three eighty-kilo linemen.

     And the capers she’s pulled off—a floating gambling ring at school, the fake-diamond scam, and her favorite, the Gibb switch. That one nearly got her arrested by the Feds. Yet whenever Kathy looks at her, she still sees the frightened five-year-old she shared a cell in the brig of the Rapier with—the young girl she raised among a crew of the roughest raiders in human space. Their princess, their daughter, their lovely child that they entrusted to Kathy to teach how to be a woman.

     The lift door opens, and Kathy steps out into the hallway.

     Kathy has tried to work as a photographer since she returned, but no one will hire her. They all look at her with the same expression, but it’s their eyes that tell the truth of what they are thinking. She’s a pirate, a thief, and a cutthroat. They all fear her. Good, she likes it that way. Who needs them anyway?

     But her heart hasn’t been in it. Still with the Feds holding her money, she’s broke. She can’t take care of little James, Cindy, and herself this way. So she’s decided to play her last card. The pics. I sure hope this is the time the gods spoke of, please let it be.

     Kathy walks into the Galactic Geographic offices, walks up to the receptionist, and announces, “Kathy Masters for Mr. Baker.”

     “One moment, Miss Masters,” the receptionist says coldly. Kathy can hear it in her voice, pirate. She can go to hell!

     The pictures, they’re all Kathy has left from those nine years. As difficult as they were, Kathy and Cindy think of them as the best of their lives, and she misses them. She misses all of them—especially him, Commodore Black.

     The receptionist says, “He’s ready for you, Miss Masters.” She points down the hall. It’s there again in her voice, pirate. But she’s not just any pirate—no, indeed. She’s the pirate that caused the war. She survived to tell part of the story—that and what was recovered with her was all it took. And now the colonies of seventeen nations are at war with the Chinese, and it’s been the most bloody of conflicts.

     Kathy knocks on the door. A man opens it. “Come in, Kathy. Please have a seat. How long has it been?”

     “Eleven years,” she replies. “Yes, I remember. I gave you the assignment for Beta 3 Epsilon. That was the beginning of your adventures.”

     “Yes, yes, it was,” Kathy says.

     “Well, what can I do for you?” She looks at him and can tell he plans to blow her off, just like the others. But she hasn’t shown him the pictures yet. Pictures and vids of life as a privateer, a life she never expected, a life unknown here on Earth.

     “I know it’s not your usual fare, Steve, but I have an exclusive for you. One I know your readers will eat up.” “Really, and what would that be?”

     “The exclusive story of my nine years on the Rapier. Logs, journals, and pics, plus vids.”

     “Pics of everyone?” he asks.

     “Yes, everyone.”

     “Even him?”

     “Him who?”

     “You know, him.”

     “Why can’t you people say his name?”

     “I don’t think that’s important.”

     “His name is Black. Commodore James Ulysses Black!” She is nearly shouting. “And he was the most decent man I ever knew!”

     “Yes, of course he was. But he was a pirate, the most infamous pirate captain since the Spanish Main.”

     “He was a husband, a father, and a good, decent man,” she snaps back. Steve Baker says nothing. Silence hangs between him and her for several moments. Then he says, “I really don’t think I can help you.”

     “You haven’t seen the pictures.”

     He looks at her a moment. “Okay, let’s see them.”

     Her holographic display projects a screen between her and Steve. She starts going through the pictures of life on the Rapier. Tears build up in her eyes. Kathy never realized how many pictures had Cindy in them—Cindy in the pilot’s seat of the Rapier with Captain Gibb at her side, Cindy in engineering learning about antimatter reactors, Cindy flying the shuttle under the instruction of Captain Rawls and Commodore Black teaching her the art of the sword.

     “That’s him?” Steve asks.

     “Yes,” she replies sadly.

     “He doesn’t look all that dangerous. Flamboyant to be sure. Stern certainly and yet grandfatherly, but not dangerous.”

     Kathy whispers, “Looks can be deceiving.”

     The next pic is Cindy and Kathy looking out the observation dome, watching the great whales near Pi Delta Epsilon. They look like the great whales of Earth, “swimming” in the gas clouds like it were water. The look of awe was on their faces. Steve stops.

     “You actually saw these?”

     “Yes, yes, we did. As a matter of fact, we swam with them, Steve.”

     “Swam with them?” Steve asks. Kathy brings up the next pic. Cindy sits atop the “whale” as Commodore Black swims beside them. “Yes, Steve, we swam with them.”

     Then the elusive “Dire Wolves” of Pi Beta 2. Cindy, in this pic a precocious twelve, sits atop one of the great predators with Commodore Black and Captain Gibb standing beside them.

     Steve whistles, “Your daughter really rode one of these?”

     “Yes,” she replies. “Actually, we all did.” Kathy brings up the next pic. Cindy, Captain Gibb, and Commodore Black race across the plain on the backs of wolves with the whole pack running around them.

     “People don’t believe they exist.”

     “They do.”

     “We’ll have to verify these aren’t manipulated.”

     “Of course,” she says.

     Then the next pic. “What are those?” he says truly surprised.

     “Those are gods,” she says to him.

     “Gods?” he asks.

     “Yes, the gods of the aquatic natives of Safe Port.”

     “We’ve been on Safe Port for eighty years now. No one has seen anything like this.”

     Kathy looks at the picture—she, Cindy, and Captain Gibb are in their deep suits, floating before the massive god of the nanchiks, the squidheads of Safe Port. The next pic shows the god sitting on its dais, with Cindy, Captain Gibb, and Commodore Black standing before it. The one after that shows the city of the gods as they approach it. She softly says, “No one has dived in the right place or deep enough to see them.”

     He thinks hard.

     “There’s more, you know,” Kathy tells him.

     “Okay, okay. I’ll pay you two hundred thousand plus half a percent of net sales, but that’s for the whole story.”

     “Of course,” she replies.

     Steve turns on his transcription bot then asks, “So how did it begin?”

     “Begin?” she mumbles. Kathy looks at him and says, “It began right here. It began when you offered me the job, gave me the tickets, and drove me to the shuttle port.”

R. A. “Doc” Correa

www.goldenboxbooks.com/ra-doc-correa.html

A retired US Army military master parachutist, retired surgical technologist, and retired computer scientist. He’s an award-winning poet and author. “Doc” has had poems published in multiple books and had stories published in Bookish Magazine and Your Secret Library. His first novel, Rapier, won a Book Excellence award and was given a Reader’s Favorite five-star review.