WIlliam Lehman

WIlliam Lehman

At 17 I joined the US Navy as a Submarine Sonar Technician, serving in that capacity on various Fast Attack and Ballistic missile subs for the next 20 years, with a couple of shore duty breaks. I retired as the Work Programs Director for the Naval Regional Brig at Bangor Submarine Base and spent some overlapping time as a Reserve Police Officer for the City of Bremerton WA. I loved that gig, but the ankles gave out, and running was no longer an option. On weekends, I dress up in 70 pounds of armor to bash people with sticks, as a member of a Medieval Recreation group.

I’ve been reading since I was seven, and cut my teeth on books by the Greats; R.A.H, Asimov, Clark, Norton, Pournelle, and the rest. One thing that always bothered me with the Fantasy genre, especially Urban Fantasy, is that the Government was ALWAYS either the bad guys, or completely oblivious to what was going on… And this was the birth of the John Fisher Chronicles. Having worked for the Federal government for 39 years now; it’s people, some good, some bad, some smart, some not so. It’s not so stupid that it wouldn’t recruit Supernatural beings into the service if it could, and it’s not so stupid that it would force them in, then hand them weapons. Not that someone might not TRY that, but it wouldn’t work well, or long, and the one thing that we really SUCK at, is keeping secrets.

In addition, there is a space opera series coming out, title unknown, that I am working on now.  The Prequel to it is my latest work to get published Vulcan III in the anthology https://www.amazon.com/Planetary-Anthology-Luna-Tuscany-Bays-ebook/dp/B08462M5W8

As I walked into the district office on Monday morning, most everyone applauded.  A few gasped, and one or two muttered something under their breath. The last time most of these guys had seen me, I’m told I was more dead than alive.  I don’t remember much of it, sort of passed out on the way to the Medevac chopper.  Lieutenant Murphy stuck her head out of the office to see what was going on, smiled at me and motioned me back to her office.

I hadn’t even made it through the door yet, when Pam was motioning me to sit down. “Are you up to going back to work?” she asked.

“Sure, as long as I don’t have to arrest any crazed Aztec high priestesses in the next few days,” I said with a grin.

 “No, this is more of an investigative thing.  We have someone killing animals in and around the Olympic National Park.  I would like you to go out and take a look at it.”

“OK, can do.  But why me?”

“Because I think it’s a lycanthrope, and I don’t want some biased officer shooting him or her.  I want the criminals arrested, not dead.”  She paused and grinned, “that and because if you get bit or clawed, it’s not going to cause the agency an arm and a leg in disability.  It’s not like you can be changed twice.”

“Great.  Remember how the last fiasco turned out. What makes you think it’s ‘Thropes anyway?”

“Well, John, the park rangers that have found the kills are finding sign from cougars or other big cats, wolves, and bears, along with some tracks that they can’t identify, all at the same kill.  Like they were working together.  So you tell me, how likely is that?”

“Well, you have me there.”  I thought back over the last week or so …