Brian Daley

Not a Jinx...

In school, I stumbled upon Jinx on a Terran Inheritance.

Wow. Most books in the school library were not about science fiction, if we went into the library at all (usually due to rain or forced study).

What a find. Brain told a story that was hilarious, full of action and well developed characters, namely - Hobart Floyt and Alacrity Fitzhugh.

Right, crazy names as well.

The hunt was on to learn more, to find more of his work. Jinx was the second in a series, that thrilled me, yet it was two years before finding and buying Requiem. And after that came the hunt for Fall of the White Ship Avatar.

What do you do when there is no more of something? In this case, you hold off reading the final novel...for many years.

During that time I discovered some of the Star Wars novels I enjoyed were also by Brian.



And then...

...there's Gammalaw and the Doomfarers Of Coramonde, books by Brian that have always intrigued.

My discoveries of his uncanny influence on my creative beginnings and joyful media memories didn't end there. Brian and his co-author James Luceno collaborated on a number of novels, including Robotech, while also being contributing writers to the awesome Galaxy Rangers cartoon.






Tron was never a thing for me, yet Brian wrote the novelization of the original movie.

Brian Daley passed away in 1996.

Wild Days: Follow Me Down - prose novel

WILD DAYS: Follow Me Down Chapter 1 draft PREVIEW

"If only I could forget the days gone by", Van said to himself.

A dry, stuttered laugh sounded behind him. Manny Croker, outlaw and rustler, tied stomach-down and cross-ways over his Appaloosa, was too weak to lift his head. Cinch straps bound his wrists against one side of his horse's belly, connected to his ankles on the other side by a two-foot rope. "You do, eh? You never will, Devil Whip."

Ignoring Croker, Van stared into the darkness towards the distant Fort Red Clay. Sound traveled far across the desolate, Arizonan plains northwest of the cavalry post. Taps, the final bugle call of the day, played an hour ago. Anguished cries replaced the faint notes of the bugle, rising as if from hell. Van sat heavy in the saddle, they were close now and his black mustang knew the way.

'Chero was a well mannered, mountain stallion, caught wild by Van. Never quite tamed, 'Chero was nonetheless a dependable companion on journeys crisscrossing the Southwest collecting bounties. Dependable unless a jackrabbit happened by.

At fifty paces from the fort the guards called out their night challenge, "Halt! Who comes there?"

"Mr. BRAN, with prisoner!"

The guards quickly called back, "Advance, and give the counter sign!"

"Ellisen!" Van said.

The first guard, a lean man, walked forward and swung open the rather unimpressive gate; the second waved Van forward. Chero trotted ahead without prompting. Van glanced over his shoulder at Croker but his ride took its lead from Van's mustang.

Led to the parade grounds by the first guard, Van dismounted by the flag pole, gathering up the lariat by which he guided the second horse. Walking beside Croker's mare, Van slapped the horse's flank. "You take care now."

The Appaloosa neighed in protest, but bolted forward and bounded along the cavalry road kicking up dust. The bewildered guard quickly following behind.

Van watched until they were out of sight, rounding the block houses. "Good riddance."

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