The Lift

(How it might have gone.)

They travelled back to headquarters in one of the transporters; Freeman in the middle seat, squashed between Straker and the driver, James Watson, a burly Londoner. They would have caught the train, but there’d been a derailment on the main line while they’d been in the meeting and the lines had ground to a halt. Straker’s only response to the news had been to call HQ and commandeer a vehicle to take them back to base: a mobile or maybe one of the company coaches, but it could have been worse. At least the transport was brand new, still with that ‘new’ smell to it.

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Colour Me SHADO

Designing costumes for a futuristic science fiction programme brings its own difficulties. How will fashions have changed in a century, or a millennium even? The designers of costumes in UFO had an even harder task in some respects – to look a mere decade or so into the future and imagine how the current fashions of the late 60’s would have developed.

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Needs of the Many

The Shepherd ‘edits’ are underway – finally – but it will be quite a few months before I am finished. And once that story is done, I am going to work on “The Needs of the Many” and get that ‘published’ in paperback as well. As a ‘prequel’ to the series I think it works very well and maybe one day I will write a sequel, set after the alien menace has been defeated. And maybe Straker will finally get to go home.

I’ve been rather quiet here for the past few months – mostly because I have been busy with other things, but this year I am going to spend as much time as possible ‘editing’ The Shepherd’ into one full length novel. It will probably lose about 10,000 words if not more but then I will repost it here and on other sites before I have a few copies printed.

Writing ‘Shepherd’ was my first real foray into novel writing and doing it kept me going at a time when ‘work’ was extremely difficult, and I will always be grateful that I had my writing to fall back on when things got difficult.

I’ll post updates as I go along. 😉

I DO have two UFO stories in progress; one is a slightly humorous look at how SHADO might have developed and the second is a more serious story about a disaster on the moon. I’ll try to get at least one of them done this year!

The Green Man (Complete)


© Ltcdr. 21.09.2019

The events in this story occur shortly after the episode ‘Mindbender’.

Chapter 1

Straker dropped his suitcase in the boot, lamenting the mechanics that denied him the satisfaction of slamming the lid down again. A minimum of ten days enforced medical leave ahead of him because his psyche report was five points down. If Jackson had delayed the tests for just a couple of days or so, he would have been fine; back to normal, the nightmares and sleepwalking a mere inconvenience that would disappear. Eventually.

But no. Five points. He scowled and opened the car door, slipping behind the wheel and starting the engine before he noticed his briefcase lying half-hidden on the floor beneath the passenger seat where he had thrown it earlier in a rare fit of pique. A quick grin. They’d forgotten about that: laptop, files, phone. All he needed to keep up with work. He still had the incident report to finish, though Henderson wasn’t pushing, at least not this time, and they were both a little more tolerant now.

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The Green Man: Chapter 7

He woke sweating and uncomfortable and his head sore and aching for some unknown reason. Perhaps it was the heat; summer in the trenches was worse in some ways than the freezing cold of winter. The heat and stench. The lice and drying mud that caked everything. The lack of water for washing or shaving. The insects. Biting and tormenting. Nothing stopped the insects. He could feel a cluster of them right now, on the side of his head, buzzing round his ear, crawling and stinging. 

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The Green Man: Chapter 6

A clear night, the moon close to full and the path to easy to follow. He sat on the steps to pull on his boots and then set off to where his Tourer was parked. The car was spotless, all evidence of the mudslide washed away and he opened the luggage compartment with a sense of unease, hoping that whoever had cleaned the vehicle had not found the rifle and other equipment hidden beneath the floor of the boot.

The Enfield was safe in its oiled case and he slung it over his shoulder, the weight familiar and comforting, the binoculars over his other shoulder and his torch tucked into one pocket well away from the revolver. A last look around to make sure no one was watching and then he set off along the grass verge, grateful for the bright moonlight that made his late night trek possible.

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The Green Man: Chapter 5

It was late afternoon by the time the Dower House came into view. Straker led the horse round under the portico and halted her as the front door opened to reveal Cooper. 

‘Use the servants’ entrance round the back and put him in one of the empty storerooms. Cool enough down there and they’re well out of the way.’ He stepped back, making it clear that he was not prepared to assist in any way.

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The Green Man: Chapter 4

The traditional glass of sloe gin was stronger than expected, and alcoholic enough that he refused a second although the other men were not as circumspect. Then he took his seat for the journey to the first drive: a couple of cars for the paying visitors,  the loaders in a wagon, beater and dogs in another and a horse drawn cart following behind to transport the day’s trophies afterwards. A rough and jolting journey, his back still sore from sleeping in the chair and his whole attention fixed on his environs and fixing the details in his mind: the wide sluices and narrow bridges, the sweep of water in the distance and the dark woodlands, the sky heavy with the promise of more rain. He hoped Jackson had managed to get the car up to the House. He did not relish the thought of coming out here again at night without his Enfield. A shotgun, however accurate, didn’t have the range or accuracy required for his purposes.

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The Green Man: Chapter 3

Sunlight woke him, a thin beam forcing its way into the room to bring him out of restless dreams of blue-painted tanks moving through woodland in search of the enemy and an overwhelming sense of being adrift in a strange world. He had slept in the chair, the fire nothing more than white ash now, his back aching and his feet cold.  He forced himself out of the quilt’s cocoon, stretching to ease the stiffness in his shoulders, then halted.

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