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These Are the Scenes They Said You Shouldn’t Read Before Bedtime

Secret Chapters of Book 4 Revealed Below!

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Brandon didn’t email me personally (I wish!), but I did read an article where he described how he stays creatively sharp by working on several books at once. He might be outlining one, editing another, writing the first draft of a third, and marketing a fourth. The constant rotation, he says, keeps the ideas fresh and the momentum strong.

To my surprise, I realised I’d been doing the same thing, just less deliberately. Since reading his method, I’ve reorganised my own process to follow suit. It’s already paying off.

Here’s where I am right now:

• Book 1 – Return to the Galaxy is up for pre-order and goes live in one week’s time
• Book 2 – Reach for the Galaxy is finished and with the formatter
• Book 3 – Seek the Galaxy is going through its final detailed edit
• Book 4 – Defend the Galaxy has a full first draft completed and is being polished
• Book 5 – (working title classified) is already 60% written

I thought you might enjoy a sneak peek at what’s coming. Below, you’ll find the opening chapters of Book 4. They’re dark, emotional, and full of tension, and they hint at just how far Velal is willing to go to protect what’s left of the galaxy.

Here are the chapters. Let me know what you think. It’s a seven-minute read.
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Book 4: Defend the Galaxy

Chapter 1: At This Time of Year?

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting golden light across the stone walls and creaking beams. Jufin’s voice dropped into a gravelly growl as he read the giant’s lines from Little Pelin and the Giant, making Ternu and Filun giggle even as their eyelids drooped. The twins shared a bed, blanket tucked beneath their chins, grinning in anticipation of the ending they knew by heart. It didn’t matter that they could read the story themselves. What mattered was hearing it from him.

In the next room, six-year-old Chela had hugged him tight before she crawled in beside Sanba and baby Renva. They were sprawled together like puppies, the warm contentment of a good day wrapped around them like a quilt. Dulma’s hand had found his as he backed out of the room, her eyes still glowing from the news she’d shared last month. Their family was growing. Again.

Ten years ago, he and Dulma had come north with nothing but tools, seeds, and stubbornness. The forest had been thick, the land rough. Fourteen miles from the swelling settlement of Botis, they’d cleared the trees by hand and burned the stumps into ash. That first winter nearly broke them. But the soil had turned rich and dark, the harvests good. And now they had a home.

Their thousand-acre grant had seemed impossibly vast then. He’d managed to bring just over three hundred acres under plow. The rest would come, a few acres at a time. Every field carved from the wild felt like a gift he could hand to his children. He'd heard the newer settlers only got four hundred acres now, and half of that poorer land. He didn’t feel smug about it. Just lucky. And tired.

Dulma’s parents were talking about joining them. She was thrilled. Jufin had mixed feelings. Burin was a skilled carpenter, sharp-witted despite his age, and always ready with a rough joke and a helping hand.

Rusma was endlessly kind to the children, but her tongue never stopped wagging. Jufin figured a few crates of ale might convince Burin to build a men’s room extension, his first project on arrival.

His favorite place was the raised porch. He’d hammered every board himself, rough but honest work. From here, he could see over the gentle rise of cleared farmland, all the way toward Botis. The night air was warm, carrying the scent of turned earth and growing crops. Dulma had brought out chilled mead and a plate of cold meat and pickles.
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He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She held her hand out for him to hold, but as soon as he took it, she pulled him down for a warm, happy kiss.

They sat in silence, the kind built from long days, hard work and deeper love.

"I just saw some meteors," Dulma said, her voice low. "High ones. Odd for this season."

Jufin took a sip of the mead, wiped his mouth, and looked up. A streak of white light arced across the stars. Then another. Then five.

"Ooh," Dulma whispered. "Those are brighter. Lower, too."

More came. Dozens. Then hundreds. The sky lit up as if burning threads were being pulled down from the heavens. Jufin rose slowly, the mug forgotten in his hand. He felt the earth shift beneath his boots. A soft rumble, deep and far away.

Then came the flashes.

Over the hills, in the direction of Botis, a string of lights burst in rapid succession. White, then red, then black columns rising like thunderheads. Dulma stood beside him, hand clamped to her mouth.

"My parents," she whispered.

His last thought was that it was strange that the rapidly rising clouds seemed to be shaped like mushrooms.

The Ranid missile struck three miles west. Eighteen seconds. That’s what they had.

A firestorm raced through the farmhouse. Their skin vaporized before they could scream. Their bones blackened, their dreams incinerated. Twenty seconds later, the shockwave followed, flattening everything that remained, and extinguishing the fire.

And then, like nothing had happened, the stars blinked on again.

***

Two weeks after the last plume of radioactive ash settled over Botis, the Ranid returned.

An angular, gunmetal-gray assault shuttle drifted through the irradiated haze before descending on rust-stained landing struts. Its underside cracked open, spilling out a full company of Ranid Marines. The arachnids moved with crisp coordination, each wearing a chitinous black battlesuit that shimmered faintly as it adjusted to the toxic atmosphere.

Their mission was simple: locate and recover any advanced technology the Saret might have hidden. Their commanders knew the odds were low, but Ranid doctrine did not allow for assumptions. And more than tech, they hunted for survivors. A colony could regrow from a few individuals. Their task was to stamp out every last spark.

One platoon fanned out toward the northern perimeter, where farmland met crater-rim. The lead Marine paused at the edge of the ruins that had once been a farmhouse. His ocular cluster rotated slowly, scanning the collapsed structure and scorched soil. No heat signatures. No movement at all.

He advanced.

His armor hissed and shifted around him, adapting to the ambient radiation. He moved with methodical grace, legs clicking as he skittered over what remained of the porch. Ash rose in plumes beneath his clawed feet. The wooden boards had fused into warped, blackened slabs. A scorched ring marked where the fire had consumed everything in seconds.

He bent low and probed the debris. He found Filun’s left leg. With a faint hydraulic sigh, he quickly opened his face mask to chew on the appetizing mouthful. He searched for more but only found Chela’s right foot, which was barely a morsel.
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He uncovered a larger leg, half-charred. His faceplate opened again. He ignored the painted toenails and brought it to his mandibles. The meat was dry, but edible. He bit off a chunk and chewed slowly, savoring the smoky flavor.

Beneath a warped beam, he spotted a book. The paper had baked into brittle curves, the cover still partially legible. He tapped it once. A scanner in his chest blinked, sent data to the orbiting dreadnought. A second later, the reply came: no value. Little Pelin and the Giant. Children's story. No military relevance.

He discarded it without another glance.

The Ranid soldier moved on, eyes sweeping the horizon for movement, his claws already hungry for more.

Forty-three years later, the Saret survey ship fell into orbit. They found a poisoned world, lifeless and still.

***

Missing Persons Velal Farn

I was walking on the streets of a small town on a destroyed Wild Colony planet. We didn’t know its name, and now it didn’t matter. It would never matter again.

Gray dust clung to the soles of my boots, rising in slow, lifeless spirals with each step. The air tasted of old ash and broken stone. No wind. No sound. Just the silence of extinction.

The Bugs had done their work thoroughly. Nuclear fire had swallowed every city. Dirty bombs had poisoned the sky. The soil would reject life for ten thousand years.

I walked through what had once been a town square, trying not to think about how much of this dust had once been human. A flicker of movement caught my eye. A girl in a red dress. Small, maybe six. Black shoes, black belt, red ribbon in her hair. She was walking away from me.

"Wait," I called. My voice sounded too loud, like it didn’t belong here.

She didn’t stop. Just turned a corner and vanished.

I broke into a jog, boots crunching over debris. Gray powder sprayed with each stride. I rounded the corner and froze.

Twenty figures stood in the road. Clusters of men, women, children. All dressed in simple medieval garb. Most had their backs to me. The few who faced my direction stared down at the ground.

"Who are you? How did you survive?"

The girl turned. Her face was a horror of peeling skin and raw lesions. Her eyes were nothing but dark, glistening sockets.

The others turned too.

One had tumors bulging from his neck and arms. Another’s mouth oozed yellow pus. A woman opened her lips and white maggots spilled out, writhing down her chest.

They stepped toward me. I backed up and felt a wall behind me. Nowhere to run.

The girl pointed at me. "You could have saved us,"

An old man dragged himself across the broken pavement, his elbows scraping stone. "You were too slow."

"Too lazy," said a crone with skeletal hands, her claws twitching.

A younger woman nursing a baby said, “Too late to save my child.” She pulled the baby away from her withered breast and opened the baby’s shawl to show a tiny skeleton mewling pathetically with hunger.

The crowd surged. Bony fingers clawed at my uniform, tearing, grabbing, reaching for my face.

"Velal," they screamed. "Velal, why didn’t you save us?"

I tried to draw my sidearm.

But all I found were sheets, soaked with sweat and tangled around my legs.

***

“Velal, Velal, wake up, you’re screaming again.” I felt gentle hands caressing my face and stroking my hair. As I drew in a ragged breath, Vana gathered me in a gentle embrace. As soon as I realized where I was, I wrapped my arms around her in a fierce grip. Even though I knew I must be hurting her, I couldn’t let go.

After a few more deep breaths, I was able to relax my grip and sit up in the large bed in the Admiral’s quarters. My body was completely soaked, sticky sweat running off my sides into the sheets on the floating bed. I could feel more pooling under my breasts and sliding unpleasantly down my spine. Vana said, “Was it the same dream?”

I could only draw in a breath and nod, completely drained and dispirited. Before we’d gone to sleep, we’d made love for two hours, starting with a long, relaxing massage. Vana tried everything she could think of to help me unwind and get the restful sleep that kept evading me.

Before Vana could say anything else, I stood up from the bed and said, “Thank you so much, Vana, but I need a shower. If you can make me a coffee, that would be great. I need to do something about this. If any of Stane, Leris, or Morin are available, could you ask them to come to our lounge in half an hour?”

“Of course. You go and relax and make yourself feel better. I’ll ask Qinas to reach out to anyone who’s awake. Now go.” She gave me a quick kiss and looked on worriedly as I went for a shower.

I stood in the huge shower cubicle while cold water blasted my flesh, pummelling me. The fierce jets battered my head, and icy needles of spray deluged my shrinking flesh.

After five minutes, I felt I’d punished myself enough and allowed the water pressure to reduce and the temperature to rise. I was just in time as Vana walked gracefully into the cubicle. Even in my miserable state, I marveled at how smoothly and elegantly she moved.

I said, “Vana, I’m so sorry; I’m just not in the mood to make love again.”

“That’s just as well,” she said, “Because neither am I. I just wanted to share a hug and a warm shower with my beautiful wife. You have so many responsibilities. You need someone to look after you. Now turn around and let me wash your back.”

I was grateful she wouldn’t take no for an answer, as the pampering was exactly what I needed. As she sponged my body, I had to lean against the wall because my legs were shaking so much. I felt as weak as a newborn kitten.

After a couple of minutes, she kissed me passionately. Suddenly, I wished we had time to go back to bed, but she slapped me lightly on the buttock and said, “Go get dressed, Admiral; the Navy needs you! I’ll join you in a couple of minutes. Now get.”

She gave me a quick peck on the lips and shoved me out the shower.

***

Ten minutes later, I stood looking out over the large central park that made up the middle of my dreadnought, Quiet Strength. I could see the waterfalls and the gentle simulated evening light glinting off the surface of the larger lake
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I returned to the circular stone table and sat beneath the glowing canopy of JJ's garden design, its flowering vines releasing a subtle fragrance that curled through the night air. The villa’s lighting was low, mimicking dusk, though the dreadnought’s internal clock never stopped. My hands were still damp. The cold water hadn’t rinsed the nightmare from my skin.

Stane joined me first. He'd been pulled from a strategic meeting on Anadroid production; an issue that could wait. Our freighters had enough units in hibernation to outfit a dozen systems. Now he sat beside me at the stone table, not as my officer, but as my partner. He took my hand, said nothing. It was enough. Vana gave him a kiss and sat down on my other side.

Footsteps approached. Morin arrived next, already in uniform, eyes sharp from duty. Suna followed, fresh from her shift, her captain’s uniform slightly rumpled. Then came Leris, his jacket half-fastened, hair tousled with sleep. I felt a pang of guilt. He should have been resting. I gave Qinas no instruction to wake him. Still, I was relieved he was here. Of them all, Leris had been with me the longest. He understood the weight I carried, even when I said nothing.

I hesitated. The silence stretched. Then I said, "I need to tell you something."

Their expressions shifted. No one spoke. Good. Let it hang.

"The dreams haven’t stopped. They're worse. Clearer. And they’re not just echoes. My psyche’s been pressing me, warning me. Not with logic. With guilt."

Suna leaned forward. Her eyes never blinked when she was locked in.

"We've been in orbit over Trimon for months," I continued. "First to study them, then to insert our reconnaissance teams. And I still believe that was the right call. We have to understand how these Wild Colonies think. How they’ll react when they learn how dangerous the galaxy has become."

I looked up at the artificial stars. They were perfect, but distant in all the wrong ways.

"But in that time, we’ve confirmed the destruction of six other colonies. Poisoned. Burned. Gone. The Bugs didn’t wait. They never wait. And while we were studying, they were killing."

I let that settle. The scent of the vines drifted between us.

"We have the ships now. More than enough to defend this planet. We can divide our forces. We can act. We must."

My voice was steady. My decision, final.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are going on a bug hunt."

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I hope those short chapters whetted your appetite for Book 1, Return to the Galaxy, released on Amazon on the 17th of June.

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See You Next Time,

BA Gillies

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