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"Science Fiction" means—to us—everything found in the science fiction section of a bookstore, or at a science fiction convention, or amongst the winners of the Hugo awards given by the World Science Fiction Society. This includes the genres of science fiction (or sci-fi), fantasy, slipstream, alternative history, and even stories with lighter speculative elements. We hope you enjoy the broad range that SF has to offer.

Hither & Yon

Captain Percina Saunders

Jez Patterson's swashbuckling space series about the one and only Captain Percina Saunders

by Jez Patterson
Published on Jan 11, 2017
by Jez Patterson
Published on Oct 19, 2016
by Jez Patterson
Published on Nov 2, 2016
by Jez Patterson
Published on Nov 16, 2016
by Jez Patterson
Behind every grated man, Percina's mother was fond of saying, there's a woman who got tired of waiting. Following the capture of several hundred pirates in an area of space seedier than a parrot's birthday cake, the Fleet had requested Percina's presence. It had been tough going since she'd lost her position with the Fleet, and if getting it back meant enduring the kind of idiots one got on a Fleet interview panel, then so be it. In the famous riddle: "What do you call my grandfather's son's brother's nephew?" The correct answer was: "the entire Fleet's officer class." Men dominated the panel, and even in that sliver where the Fleet had succeeded in broadening the gender-spectrum of its officers, it found itself unable to alter its bias toward awarding command to those from the upper classes. Judging by the panels' slack eyes and dumb questions, the silver spoons involved had come stained with the tar of opium. Her mother claimed the Old Buoy Network was aptly named because one day the whole decrepit structure would all sink together. Until then, one had to play its pathetic games. The instructive thing about any glass ceiling, though, was that you could look up and guarantee you'd see nothing but assholes positioned above you. "Now, Captain Saunders," the general leading the panel said. "About this first mate of yours...." Martin had been Percina's first mate when she was with the Fleet the first time around. She had selected him as the man she would marry, paid for various physical and mental enhancements to ensure he became the man she did marry, and then lost her position when this behavior wasn't deemed appropriate... never mind the number of male officers who married their juniors. Every "One small step for man," inevitably, became "one giant leap" when it was the woman's turn to advance. "I'm afraid we can't invite you both back," the general said. Percina had discussed this with Martin. Her husband understood how important a real command was to her. After the space-limo business, animal haulage, and space trucking, Percina needed something to justify her Captain prefix. Martin would understand. It was time for Percina Saunders to have something enhanced. "Yes," she said. "Of course. You would not be getting both of us." The general shared a nervous laugh with his colleagues. "Well, that's a relief. We were quite worried how you'd take it. Stories of your legendary temper precede you." "That was before," Percina said. "I've learned to deal with... disappointments." "I'm very glad to hear it," the general said. "We wouldn't want you missing your husband whilst he's working for us."
Martin had not been in the waiting room when she'd come out. A higher-ranking panel than hers would be speaking to him in a bigger, plusher room about his new Fleet command. Percina sat where Martin wouldn't fail to see her when he walked in. An hour later, Martin entered, walked straight across and sat down beside her. "'Pri-' is a prefix that means 'first,'" Percina said. "Therefore, you're not just my first mate but also my pri-mate. Which makes you my monkey." "Then that," Martin said, with the lewdest of winks, "would make you my organ grinder." Percina blushed. "That fact notwithstanding, I will support you in your new career with the Fleet, Martin. Congratulations. It's deserved." Martin looked at her in silence for a moment, wearing one of his cuneiform looks. Unreadable. "But if you're expecting me to salute you, think again," she said. "It's no honor to be awarded a prize from an institution that has ignored those you know to be better candidates than yourself," Martin said. "You're only saying that because I'm your wife." Martin's eyes flashed angrily. It wasn't an emotion she often saw him exhibit, but was something all the enhancements had never eradicated from the old Martin. "You can question my opinion, Captain, but don't ever question my intelligence." Percina swallowed. "Thank you, Martin." He held out a hand, turned it away as she reached for it, and raised it in a neat salute. "Could we leave here now, please, Captain? This place makes me ashamed to be a man." And me, Percina thought, to wear its insignia. Sometimes, if you spent all your time fighting from the inside, you couldn't distinguish between trying to change things... and just trying to get the hell out.
Published on Nov 30, 2016
by Jez Patterson
Published on Dec 14, 2016
by Jez Patterson
Published on Dec 28, 2016
by Jez Patterson
Published on Jan 25, 2017
by Jez Patterson
The term "expecting a baby" always seemed to include an element of doubt. As in: I was expecting a baby, so imagine my surprise when a chicken turned up. Captain Percina Saunders sighed, wishing the air she blew out would deflate some of the enormous belly that was currently strapped to her midriff. "Saunders Junior" was two weeks overdue and she was seriously considering initiating more drastic measures. Caesarean section was aptly named: designed to remove a petty little dictator who was refusing to leave his palace. Brutus's solution had been dramatic... but understandable.
Published on Feb 8, 2017
by jez patterson
"It's a myth that you'll just sink in quicksand. It's denser than flesh, so you'll sink a bit, then... bob." Captain Percina Saunders stared at her husband.
Published on Oct 5, 2016