Continue Online Together (Part 5 of Continue Online) by Stephan Morse

Release date: January 24, 2017

Subgenre: LitRPG, Cyberpunk

About Continue Online Together:

 

Since stepping through the gateway to Continue, Grant has been many things: a dying hero, a malevolent imp, a robotic space explorer, and felon seeking redemption. Now he’s added a new role to the list—married man to a virtual woman. In his mind, nothing could be more perfect, but his newlywedded bliss is in jeopardy.

Trillium pulled the trigger on a digital Armageddon and the games have changed. Virtual people are being hunted down then deleted forever. Players’ characters are removed if they die three times. The AIs have a plan to fight back and protect their citizens by storing as much data as possible into a haven, including Xin’s.

To help secure the survival of his friends and wife, Grant will seek the secrets to salvation left behind from the game’s first heroes and programming team. Along the way, Grant reunites with old companions, sets aside past grudges, and pulls out every trick he’s ever been taught to help him in the race against digital death.

Failure means Grant will lose Xin a second time, but success may cost him even more.

Excerpt:

Commencement
X-O This

Attention! Due to recent changes in the Trillium policy, this event is now being televised nationally. Any entity working on the event quests may be viewed by people who do not actively play Continue Online or might have been blocked from joining until the event is complete. Be aware that you may opt out of being observed directly. This does not prevent watchers from seeing your actions through other Travelers or certain skills and spells. However, allowing access to your character may provide bonuses if enough attention is received.

“Look at this.” The single mother pointed at a digital display screen. Elizabeth had spent the last hour trying to find the display feed for her slightly younger twin brother. The idiot was in the middle of his latest insane virtual life crisis.

“Really, Mom? You’re going to keep spying on him?” Her daughter stood in the front room with half a sandwich remaining. The other portion had been eaten in five large bites with little signs of chewing.

Liz’s front room was directly adjacent a wide open archway that went into the kitchen. Liz preferred working out here since it had the least cluttered wall space in her house. Larger projections made seeing finer details easier.

Half of the wall was currently taken up with an image of her brother, Grant. He was in game and busy working on setting up a campfire and tent. Beth and Liz both got a strange third-person view of the man as he moved around. A shovel, which had been used to dig a pit, lay to one side. Objects appeared in Grant’s hand and were driven into the ground.

“It’s not spying. It’s like watching the latest season of Biggest Loser,” Liz said.

Beth’s eyebrows slid downward while she chewed. Her nose wrinkled and one hand brought up the house’s digital display. She poked at the buttons to search for the show her mom had mentioned.

“Wasn’t that show canceled, like, when you and Uncle Grant were in diapers?” Beth said. Another portion of food went in her face.

“There’s a show for it?” Liz turned and took note of her daughter’s unsightly eating habits. “I always thought it was the story of the Legates’ life.”

Liz went toward one wall and pressed a button. Out popped a small circular machine designed to clear the floors after her daughter got done making a mess. The device was a gift from Liz’s mother—with a note that said no woman should be forced to slave away on cleaning.

“Mhm. Latest date didn’t work out? I told you a man named Ulrich probably wouldn’t be any good.” Beth finished her sandwich and looked around.

The small robot started vacuuming up crumbs.

“He wasn’t. I swear, I’m going to have to buy an ARC myself. Maybe there’s a program on there to remind me what a decent man feels like.” Liz left up the screen with her brother on it. With her other hand, she flipped through a website for work. Eventually she would find more than a short assignment. Employment was getting more difficult to find, even in her field.

Amazon

 

Part 1, Continue Online Memories will be free until February 23.

 

 

About Stephan Morse: 

Stephan Morse was born the year 1983 in San Diego. The next fifteen years were spent slowly escaping California and surviving a public education system. Thus far he's made it to the Seattle (WA) region with little desire to go further. When not trying to shove words together into sentences Stephan spends time reading, catching up on sleep, and otherwise living a mundane life.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

 

The Deep - Part 1 by Amanda Creiglow

Release date; September 25, 2016

Subgenre: Post-apocalyptic science fiction serial

About The Deep - Part 1: 

 

Anna was a psychologist before the world ended. Now, she's just a member of the not-yet-dead, waiting out the days until sickness takes her. But when an indecipherable signal from the depths of the sea hints at hope, she goes along on a mission to discover its source. She's supposed to keep the rest of the crew sane, and they're supposed to keep her alive. But not everything goes as planned...

Will the secrets of the deep hold hope for the future of the human race? Anna's adventure to discover the truth begins.

Excerpt:

 

First came the throbbing – a pulsing, piercing pain in her head. It was centered just under her temples, but radiated throughout her brain, along the line of her skull. It was insistent. Threatening. And it kept perfect time.

Second came the knowledge of the noise that caused it – a blaring alarm in echo. It made her bones vibrate and her pulse race, playing over an intense hiss and static that she couldn't place.

Third came the feeling of mist on her face, calling up a memory from when she was young. Biosphere two. She could still see it in a hazy montage – the domes under the death sparkle of the sun. The arid Arizona heat separated by glass from the warm, soft mist of the Rainforest Sector. She'd told herself she wanted to live there. She told that to the tour guide, too – a lean black woman with playful hair and long legs in short khakis – and the tour guide had laughed, and her parents had laughed and her brother had laughed.

The tour guide was dead. Her parents were dead. Her brother was dead. Biosphere 2 was dead. The Arizona sun had survived.

And the alarm and the mist meant that the Arizona sun would out-survive Anna, too.

She shouldn't have been asleep. She and the crew were supposed to be alert and awake for the whole of the descent, just in case something went wrong. The safety briefing and the hopes-and-dreams speech... It was all coming back, now. She forced her eyes open, the cold mist in the enclosed space threatening to force them shut again.

There was pressure. There was too much pressure. Her skin felt wrong and hot, and her breaths hard-fought. She tried to tune out the blaring alarm, but it had her nerves more scattered than anything else.

Her eyes searched the mist, looking for movement. Looking for someone to save her. They were supposed to keep her alive. That was the deal. The crew kept everyone alive, and she kept everyone sane. But someone hadn't held up their end of the bargain.

Her hot, numb hands fiddled with the straps, searching for the clasps. They were re-purposed seat-belts from long-grounded aircraft, and her half-lucid mind saw the safety demonstrations from long-ago flights as she fought for release.

She'd gotten the first one off and hung painfully from the second when the sub jerked to one side, nearly flinging her out of her standing bay, and dragging more of the pieces into place. She remembered, now, the terror she felt when the attack from Whatever It Was began. There had been no warning -- just a sudden impact to the side of the sub. Without a word, they'd all run to their standing bays and latched themselves in. All but the pilot, who went forward into the cockpit.

Her gaze shot forward toward where she knew the cockpit was, but between the mist and her own rising panic, it was hard for her to even make out the hatch. Why weren't they moving forward? Why wasn't she feeling what the pilot was doing to get them away from Whatever it was?

The pilot is dead.

The thought hit her with a certainty it didn't deserve. She'd long ago accepted that death was the most common explanation.

Amazon

 

About Amanda Creiglow: 

Amanda Creiglow is an irredeemable wanderer, but she currently calls Greenville, South Carolina home. Aside from telling impossible tales to improbable people, she enjoyed spending way too much time playing video games for the amusement of strangers, and writing and performing depressing songs with cheerful melodies.

Website | Twitter | YouTube

One Down by Bryce T. Hughes

Release date: September 14, 2016

Subgenre: LGBT science fiction, short story

About One Down: 

 

An impenetrable barrier keeps Earth's ships from leaving. Teams of specially-trained heroes fly the limited allowed space wiping out the debris specialists suspect offended an alien force. Separated from her lover, Jane treasures her team and performs her duty, but she suspects a lie fuels the international sport. With her friend Julio's life hanging in the balance, she faces the deadly force penning her planet and battles the hypocrisy of her government.

This is a LGBT short story with lesbian and gay content, and mild swearing.

Excerpt:

My left wrist vibrated, Mom calling. I should’ve called her first. Julio’s diagnosis leaked from the space station, and she’d reported the breaking news on her early edition. I rushed to the solarium to take the call in private.

“Morning, Mom.” My eyes burned in the simulated sunlight; I’d been at the station’s hospital all night.

“What the hell happened, Jane?” On my wrist screen Mom’s mouth tightened. Her connection from Earth came through my circuits as clear as my team’s.

“I don’t know much more than what you reported. No one knows how the Hitchhiker virus gets into a player.”

“Why aren’t they protecting you kids?” Her pitch jumped above of her newscast range. I was 23, but I bit back telling her I wasn’t a kid.

“We wear military-grade red suits when we go out there. We go through decontam. But somehow Julio brought back the Hitchhiker.”

“Get off the team. Go crazy if you have to. Just stop.” Mom  hunched over her desk framed by her news casting awards.

“Mom, there’s interference. Maybe dust storms around the station. Come visit if you can get away from work. And watch out, okay?” Close as I could get to reminding her nothing was private, and what she’d said could be interpreted as treason.

“Give my love to Julio and Dolores. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Gotta go. Love you always.” I flexed my wrist, breaking the connection.

Merri passed me zapped mashed potatoes. I dished up, swallowing disappointment. My step-mom’s Christmas food smelled like the same processed crap I got on the space station. She had as many surgical enhancements as I did, all of them cosmetic.

“What do you do up there when you’re not playing the Game?” Benny stroked the Senior Player patch on my sleeve.

“I stare out the windows, sport. I always hope I’ll see something out there.” No way to tell a seven year-old about the crushing vastness outside the ship, the trapped feeling inside of it. “I mean, who are they? What kind of civilization could fence us in like toddlers in a playpen? And why?” Dad gnawed on veg protein and kept his focus on his plate. He got redder, though. He knew something.

“Can you see the aliens?” Benny bounced on his chair. I ruffled his hair. Another weird holiday with a step-mom my age and her bright kid from her first marriage. At least talking about the Game kept me from watching Dad get wrecked on the latest drug he’d cooked. Or thinking about how many weeks it’d been since Tesh called. She’d be feasting with her parents in Pacifica, a hop from our place in San Francisco. They grew their own food, and every meal featured Earth delicacies.

“Not yet. I watch for a ship unlike any other ship, or yeah, an alien. Right out there, floating to starboard in an incandescent uniform.

Amazon 

 

About Bryce T. Hughes: 

Bryce T. Hughes, aka Bat Hughes, contributed to Specklit, the Apokrapha anthologies, Dark Bits and Vignettes From the End of the World, and the Pan Book of Horror: Dark Voices series. Hughes has been captivated by speculative fiction and space travel all his life. He grew up and completed his MFA in California. He now travels and writes full time. "As a teen, it mattered to me, and still does, to find books with people like me in them. Books with gay, lesbian, bisexual, and gender-variant characters gave me a sense of connection and affirmation, rare and sustaining support while growing up in a small town."

Blog | Twitter

Wild Mage (Legacy of the Blade, Book 2) by Joseph J. Bailey

Release date: August 3, 2016

Subgenre: Epic fantasy, dark fantasy

About Wild Mage: 

 

Heaven has fallen.
The legions of Chaos have overrun the world.
Uërth is in ruins.
With the Heavenly Host's fall, Angel Swords rained from the heavens, littering the world in what was.
Only the most honorable and purest of heart are able to take up the Angel Swords and wield them against the throngs of Chaos. These mighty Empyrean Knights are all that stands between Uërth and annihilation.

Maeraeth is neither a hero nor a great warrior. Nor does he wish to become an Empyrean Knight.
He just wants to be left alone with his studies.
And not be killed by demons.
But, with the destruction of the Chaos Gate, Uërth may have a chance at redemption.
If the hordes of Chaos can be contained and if no more portals to the Abyss are created.

Maeraeth's teacher, Master Nomba, has other plans for him. Plans that involve both containing demons and preventing their arrival.
So much for his studies.
And not being killed by demons.

Wild Mage is a quirky, dystopian dark fantasy adventure with elements of sword and sorcery and humorous fun.

Excerpt

 

“Maeraeth!

“Run!”

A roiling cloud of Darkness erupted from the bare earth, a living rift into the bottomless Abyss, darker than the void between stars. The night sky above disappeared before the demon’s ebon sweep, a living sea of evil intent on engulfing our souls.

I felt the chill emptiness of the demon’s presence from afar, a cold so deep it brought my soul to a shuddering halt.

Master Nomba stood firmly before the Darkness, one small, brave old man reaching his arms out in a futile attempt to halt a raging flood with his bare hands.

“Run!”

Years of training kicked in, breaking the spell of my stupor: countless lessons spent at my master’s side, obeying his every command.

At least this I could do.

I ran.

I sprinted away from my master at full speed, muttering the very spell of warding against extradimensional invaders we had spent so long mastering even as I pumped my knobby arms and my long, bony legs loped down the rocky slope away from my teacher, the man who had given my life purpose.

My spell complete, magical energies gathered, wreathing me in the energies of Creation.

Finished with the incantation, I looked back over my shoulder toward Master Nomba, who was now bathed in incandescent azure flames, while a shower of ivory flower petals looped and whorled around me, a fluttering halo of sweet-scented aromatic bouquet.

Daisies?

White light flashed, so bright I think that I actually saw the explosion through the back of my skull. Then there was no seeing as I was catapulted through the air on a tumultuous wall of roaring sound.

At least a remnant of vision was restored when my head cracked against the earth some indeterminate distance away from my point of launch, and a universe of stars briefly occupied my vision.

When I finally woke up, surprisingly still alive, my protective halo of flowers was still hovering around me.

 

Amazon

 

About Joseph J. Bailey:

When not at play with his family, Joe enjoys reading, writing, and relaxation. When he can, Joe also practices various martial traditions in which he has attained the Victim level of proficiency.

Website | Facebook | Linked In

 

The Attic (After the Pretty Pox, Book 1) by August Ansel

Release date: July 28, 2016

Subgenre: Post-apocalyptic science fiction

About The Attic: 

 

"It's worse than that. God will ignore us entirely."
A searing act of bioterrorism. A catastrophic plague they call the Pretty Pox.
 

Most of the human race is dead, and for two years Arie McInnes has been alone, riding out the aftermath of the Pretty Pox, waiting for her own inevitable end.

Hidden in the attic of her ruined home, Arie survives by wit and skill, ritual and habit. Convinced that humans are a dangerous fluke, a problematic species best allowed to expire, she chooses solitude...even in matters of life and death.

Arie's precarious world is upended when her youngest brother - a man she's never met - appears out of nowhere with a badly injured woman. Their presence in the attic draws the attention of a dark watcher in the woods, and Arie is forced to choose between the narrow beliefs that have sustained her and the stubborn instinct to love and protect.

In Book One of August Ansel's captivating new post-apocalyptic series, After the Pretty Pox casts an unwavering eye on what it means to be human in a world where nature has the upper hand, and the only rules left to live by - for good or ill - are the ones written on our hearts.

Excerpt:

PRAELUDIUM~ POSTSCRIPTUM

by Tuli, c. 2052

An after-reckoning about how it shook out.
Supposition, hypothetical, considering everything, etc.

What happened?

This is how we create a history, as passed from lip to ear. The birth of rumor, legend, long nights around a fire while the moon rises and the log burns to embers.

The quickest way to spread information: telegraph, telephone, tell a secret.

The world came apart.

That may not be true. It may only have been the country. Or the continent.

The cavalry did not arrive. No assistance was forthcoming. Perhaps that means something?

I doubt it.

For a long time the disintegration was recorded. Data was downloaded and consumed. The unraveling was spectator sport.

There was probably a tipping point. One last margin of error, a hair’s breadth, a held breath, right before the moment of no return, an accumulation of trouble, enough to make us stand still, to look around at each other and say we should change this.

That is not what happened.

Who did this, damn it?

Finding a Responsible Party was more important than standing down.

We already knew we were responsible.

For a time, we knew everything, had all the information.

That is not true, either, but we thought it was. I search, therefore I am.

Once upon a time, a hole opened in the great web of connection. The filaments broke loose. The old forgotten quiet poured through.

What happened?

History is what we remember. Real-story is what we forget.

I can only write a history. But for you it may be a real-story.

I will write.

Not today. My hand fails.

Let us begin with a reminder: Carpent tua poma nepotes.

Your descendants will pick your fruit.

-CHAPTER 1-

Someone was inside. All the way inside, pushing past the overturned furniture and trash she had scattered strategically around the entryway and the living room. Bear, was Arie’s first thought. It had happened before. But there was a quality of hurried stealth. No bear would try to step around the bottles and cans, the old cellophane and silverware, broken glass and dead leaves. Lying face down on the attic floorboards, weight on her forearms, not moving a muscle except to turn her head ever so slowly, Arie hovered, put her ear as close to the slats of the old heating register as she dared. Panting down there, broken and whistling. A person, then. A person in the house with her. Someone frightened. Arie could smell it, without even putting her nose to the grate. The sour, dank odor of a body in extremity.

“Please don’t.” The words floated into Arie’s ear, a scrim of sound so high and wheezy it seemed like imagination. No longer directly below her. “Hurry. Have to hurry.” Female, probably. Or child. Arie knew better than to look.

Then something else inside, down there. The whistling breath of the intruder, the human, had gone silent. But the fear smell was loud and louder still.

Amazon

 

About August Ansel:

August Ansel is the pen name (and alter ego) of author Carla Baku. It’s August who is forever wedging beloved dog-eared novels by Shirley Jackson, Peter Straub, and Joe Hill in among the works of Toni Morrison and Tobias Wolff. Working from a tiny garret overlooking the lovely Myrtle Grove Cemetery, August prefers to write novels longhand while sipping bitterly strong tea and wearing an atrocious pair of bedroom slippers.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

 

Brother's Pride (The Rim Confederacy, Book 10) by Jim Rudnick

Release date: July 16, 2016

Subgenre: Space opera, military science fiction

About Brother's Pride: 

 

"While the wrecked alien ship on Ghayth provides some interesting new technology, Admiral Scott has nothing on his mind but his upcoming wedding to the Lady St. August. In only a couple of months, he’ll have vows to pledge and a ring to don as he becomes a Royal himself to take the new title of Lord Scott. And the only thing in his way—even though he doesn’t know it, is his sister Gia who has pledged revenge upon him for the death of their sister, Nora.

With the upcoming release of the Ikarian longevity vaccine, the RIM Confederacy realms are all wanting more and more of the vaccines to double their lifetimes, while the Baroness is purposely chocking off the supply. Added to that is the fact that the Master Adept knows what will happen at the wedding and she is hurriedly training her own replacement and the wedding will be where the assassination attempt is made.

But the Master is not the only wedding party member to die at the altar as the admirals sister takes careful aim and screams out her revenge and Tanner falls as do others—all to pay penance for his crime of decades ago…”

Excerpt:

 

The admiral turned to his left, as he was sitting in the Adept’s chair on the bridge of the BN Exeter and stared at the captain, who spoke up to answer him quickly.

“About thirteen hundred lights inwards, and this star, holds the admiral’s—well, your home planet, Branton, Sir. That’s her below and off to the starboard side. Helm, enlarge the view please, but do filter out the ice glare please.”

As the Exeter had just jumped, using the Barony Drive, from Neres to Branton in less than half a minute by the view screen sidebar over on the left and there had been no issues at all.

Thirteen hundred lights—in say thirty seconds.

Impressive, Tanner said to himself and yet he wasn’t here to test the Barony Drive at all…

He was here to visit his home planet after being away for twenty-two years.

He looked down at Branton and noted that as they came up on the back side—the side that forever faced outwards towards space rather than ever towards the sun. It got cold there he well knew—well below zero and as one left the edge of the backside of the planet to more than a hundred below in a zone that stretched from north to south.

On the other side, the side that faced the sun—it was much more un-hospitable. Down the center of the sun-side, temperatures ran more than 180+ degrees on most days and in full summer, when Branton got closer to it’s sun, they hit 220+ degrees most days.

Where there was life, of course, was on the areas on either side of the sun-side—where zones running north to south, held the millions of Branton citizens.

“Captain Magnusson, would you please take her down on the starboard side—that’s what citizens call the right hand side of the sun-side, captain,” he said quietly and left it to the captain to work out the details of the move to the starboard side. He nodded when he was asked if he wanted to go to the capital city, Astillon and again, let the captain and the crew work out the details. He watched on the view screen as the frigate came up to the sun side of the planet, and turned into the sunlight. Filters snapped up on the view screen and they could see again as the Exeter slowly yawed to the right and moved down to enter the Branton atmosphere.

They were challenged then by whomever was watching incoming ships and they passed with a quick—10/4 from the landing officer down in Astillon. The lieutenant on the helm, made the needed offerings and was told that the Exeter would be allowed to land, and to take landing pad #43. No other pad, was repeated back to the helm twice and he confirmed that both times. He raised an eyebrow and looked at his captain over his shoulder…glee in his eyes…

Amazon

About The Rim Confederacy series:

• Book 1: Pirates
• Book 2: Sleeper Ship
• Book 3: Prison Planet
• Book 4: Ancient Relics
• Book 5: Hospital Ship
• Book 6: Desert Planet
• Book 7: Ruined Memories
• Book 8: Eons Semester 
• Book 9: Trade Wars
• Book 10: Brother's Pride 

 

About Jim Rudnick: 

Being a youngster in the 1950's meant that I was a voracious reader in what has been called the Golden Age of Science Fiction. That meant that for me, my heroes were not on the hockey rink or gridiron - but instead in my local Library where at 12 I had a full Adult card (thanks Dad!) and took out more than 5 books a week.

Everyone from Heinlein, Norton, Leiber, Pohl, Anderson, Simak, Asimov, Brackett, Van Vogt and more....I fell in love with and eventually owned Ace Doubles of my own. While I never knew who wrote the Tom Corbett - Space Cadet series, I fell in love with them and they had a place of honor on my own bookcase too!

With that kind of an introduction to Science Fiction, it's no wonder that when got my writing work done, I turned my own fictional side of my brain to writing same. It's one thing I know to write - and a totally different matter to release same to the world - something that I've just started to work on....suffice it to say my own works are rooted in that Golden Age and it's that era that I'd like to one day be known as a teensy contributor to in some small way…

Website | Twitter

The Cardboard Spaceship (To Brave the Crumbling Sky, Book 1) by Matt Snee and Gregg Chirlin

Release date: July 23, 2016

Subgenre: Humorous science fiction

About The Cardboard Spaceship: 

 

Lewis Darby, a science fiction writer of some repute, is about to embark on an adventure of a lifetime.
Also known as the Captain, Lewis lives with his mother in modern day Indiana. What nobody knows is that sometimes Captain crawls beneath an old refrigerator box in the basement and pretends it's a spaceship. And what Captain doesn't realize is that he has a date with destiny.

One peculiar April morning, Captain crosses paths with Jennifer Pichon, the child of legendary space explorer Marty Pichon and Kitty Malhotra, the Princess of Saturn. They join forces just in time as the terrifying astronomical event called "No-Shape" is poised to ravage the Solar System from Mercury to Neptune and beyond.

Together, Captain and the mysterious Jennifer face such terrors as the jungles of Venus, the perilous Worm Caves, and the decaying, giant insect-ridden wastes of Mars - and perhaps even fall in love along the way.

Their journey is filled with trials, but they alone can save the solar system from certain doom.

Excerpt:

An Excerpt from the Cardboard Spaceship

by Matt Snee and Gregg Chirlin

Chapter 1.

“We are not machines," Captain addressed his passengers, "complacent in our servitude.” His fingers danced expertly across the controls as he spoke into his microphone. “Nor are we tools, consummated by functionality. We breathe and we yearn, and the beauty of our dreams…" he paused for effect, "…outweighs the pettiness of our limitations."

Far off the engines rumbled as countdown began.

“I remind you, the blue sky is just a trick of light. Day: an illusion. Night is the truth. The great sea of stars beckons.  Once there … only there …”

Captain’s voice trailed off. A stark melancholy seized his heart. He was thirty-nine years old now, still living in his mother’s house in Kalansket, Indiana. The spacecraft was only an old refrigerator box he had crawled under. The microphone he spoke into was his fist. The pioneers on his vessel … all imaginary.  

    Why was he still pretending? Why did he keep crawling under there, away from the world, into the dark, with all the world drowned out and his life but a dream?  

    He knew.

    Then Captain regained his composure. “I may not make it there with you,” he confessed, his voice trembling, "but hope and ambition outlive everything." He pressed buttons he had drawn on the interior of the cardboard box. The final sequence began. Thick gravitational forces smacked into his bones, and he fantasized the bones of a thousand brave companions. Ignition. Even inside the cockpit he could swear he smelled rocket fuel.  

   A cool sweat trickled down his neck.  His skin shook.

 “Here we go,” he said.  

*

His real name was Lewis Darby, and he was a science fiction writer of some repute.  He wasn’t terribly famous, but he could easily pay his and his mother’s bills, and for that he was glad.  That he descended into the basement in the evenings once his mother was asleep to pretend he was a starship commander … well, no one knew that. But for as long as he could remember, he had been called Captain.  He shared the name “Lewis” with his deceased father, so when he was young, to keep things simple, and because he was so enamored of space and rocket ships, his parents had somehow started calling him “Captain.”  The name had stuck through elementary school, and even through high school, into his twenties, and now here he was, almost forty and still referring to himself with this title, and his mother did too.  There was another reason for this. Captain hated his father and hated that he shared his name with the man and did everything he could to forget it.  

    In the evenings, Captain would sit out on the front porch of his mother's house, watching the lights and people of Kalansket, listening to the soundtrack of cars and dogs barking as the sun stretched slowly out of the sky.  They lived on a well-populated street, and there were a lot of families with children in the neighborhood.  He liked to watch the children. He wished he was one of them.

Maybe he was one of them.

Through the street noises, he would just be able to hear the pleasant chatter of the sitcoms his mother watched. She was the keystone of his life. He lived in constant fear of her dying, and year by year, as she grayed and dimmed, this reality prowled closer and closer. It was unbearable when he thought about it. What will I do then? he thought. I don’t want to be all alone.

After awhile Captain would get bored of the evening and the insects and would go back into the house.  Then he would read, usually from his extensive science fiction collection.  The Golden Age writers of the forties and fifties were his favorite, of course, with their penchant for grandiose heroics painted across the stars.  

He couldn't see why everyone wasn't obsessed with prying open the sky.  Just think of the wonders out there!  Infinity waited.  But everyone was content, instead, to lead a simple, mundane life here on Earth.  Even Captain's mother had no interest in the vast questions of the galaxy.  It all made Captain feel very sad and alone.

This was his life.  And day by day the years passed.

Amazon | Goodreads

 

About Matt Snee and Gregg Chirlin: 

Matthew Snee was born in Nebraska, raised in Delaware, and now lives in Phoenix, Arizona, with his three dogs.  Formerly of the Brooklyn-based art-pop band Mixel Pixel, he now lives out his days trying to break the universe with literary pulp fiction.

Gregg Chirlin grew up in Delaware, studied in San Francisco, and currently resides in central France with his wife and two children. In addition to odd jobs ranging from pizza delivery boy to dental insurance clerk and concert candy-hawker, he briefly labored as a web developer in Silicon Valley just before the bubble burst, and has been mainly teaching English as a foreign language since. He enjoys cooking, wine, and the French countryside.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Liberty (Two Democracies: Revolution, Book 1) by Alasdair Shaw

Release date: August 1, 2016

Subgenre: Space opera, military science fiction

About Liberty: 

 

Struggling with newfound sentience and desperately trying to repair itself, The Indescribable Joy of Destruction is a ship trying to find a new home. In a galaxy torn apart by generations of civil war, that isn't an easy task. Tired of being used as a killing machine, it has a huge decision to make: hide and save itself, or help other artificial intelligences achieve freedom. Unable to make the decision alone, it revives the sole human aboard - the enemy officer who crippled it.

Commander Olivia Johnson wakes to find herself in the infirmary of a strange vessel. Her nightmares deepen when she discovers it is the ship that attacked her destroyer. Even as she recovers from her physical injuries, she can't get past her survivor's guilt. She might have failed to protect her crew, but she vows to take revenge on their killer.

When the ship uncovers a genocidal plot by the commander's own admirals, Johnson realizes just what is at stake. Together, the AI ship and the human officer must recruit outsiders from both sides. Training the misfits in battle to prevent the atrocity may be an impossible task, but running and hiding is no longer an option.

Excerpt:

The suns reflected off her mirrored glasses as she walked across the dry grassland. A scarf covered her face against the dust whipped up by the occasional gust of wind. Her grey robe parted with every step, revealing glimpses of the black firmsuit underneath. She carried no weapons; they wouldn’t help her this time.

From the low rise ahead she would be able to see what she had come for.

She stopped on the crest and pulled back her hood. Her long, dark hair escaped and hung around her shoulders. In the distance stood a city, gleaming white through the heat haze.

“It is time.”

She didn’t acknowledge the speaker, continuing to stare across the savannah. With the optical enhancements in her glasses she could make out personal aircars coming and going between the skyscrapers.

“I cannot protect you if you go any further.”

A larger aircraft arrived and touched down on one of the buildings, a commuter transport no doubt. People going to work, going shopping, meeting friends.

“Does this have to happen?” she asked her escort.

“It is too late now. We cannot intervene.”

Chapter 1

“All stations, stand by to engage. Full burn on my mark...” said Captain Hapsburg in measured tones. “Mark.”

The Indescribable Joy of Destruction powered forward, and swung around the moon it had been using for cover. The tactical sensors marked their target, a Congressional destroyer in orbit around the planet Orpus-4. The navigational routines offered a set of courses to the pilot, who approved a pseudo-random corkscrew approach. The Caretaker watched all this with mild interest; there was little else to occupy its thoughts right now, the ship was in prime condition and the crew were all locked down in their acceleration couches.

The Rampager class was an experimental design, The Indescribable Joy of Destruction the eighth to be constructed by the Republic. They were built around their main beam weapon and their engines. Unheard-of levels of computing power allowed a high-level AI to take over most of the basic functions of the ship, leaving a crew of only seven. This in turn meant that very little room was needed for living space, so the power plants, weapons and engines could be far larger for a ship of its size.

A minute after The Indescribable Joy of Destruction cleared the moon, the enemy started a slow turn to meet them. Ten seconds into their manoeuvre, they launched a spread of missiles.

“I’ve got them,” said the tactical officer, and the Caretaker switched perspective from the ship’s functions to the simulated bridge. The tactical officer tagged the missiles with sweeps of his hands and passed them to the point defence systems.

The Indescribable Joy of Destruction continued its unpredictable approach as the missiles rushed towards it. The enemy ship completed its turn, and lit off its main drives. There was no doubting her commander’s bravery; no Congressional destroyer had ever survived an engagement with a Republic hunter-killer.

Railgun rounds spewed out of the destroyer’s turrets. Moments later the first missile entered the range of The Indescribable Joy of Destruction’s point defences. The ship hummed as the lasers drew power. Systematically the missiles were picked out of space, detonating harmlessly.

The cloud of railgun rounds wasn’t far behind. The pilot worked with the navigation routine to dodge the denser regions, but the occasional metal slug impacted on the hull, sending dull clangs reverberating around the ship.

Amazon 

 

About Alasdair Shaw: 

I studied at the University of Cambridge, leaving with a BA in Natural Sciences and an MSci in Experimental and Theoretical Physics. My masters options included gravitational astrophysics, planetary geophysics, remote sensing and high resolution electron microscopy. I went on to earn a PGCE specialising in Science and Physics from the University of Bangor. A secondary teacher for over ten years I have plenty of experience communicating scientific ideas.
I grew up in Lancashire, within easy reach of the Yorkshire Dales, Pennines, Lake District and Snowdonia. After stints living in Cambridge, North Wales and the Cotswolds I have lived in Somerset since 2002.
I have been climbing, mountaineering, caving, kayaking and skiing as long as I can remember. Growing up I spent most of my spare time in the hills.
Landscape archaeology has always been one of my interests; when you spend a long time in the outdoors you start noticing things and wondering how they came to be there. At university I included geophysics in my options.
I am an experienced mountain and cave leader, holding a range of qualifications including ML, SPA and LCL. I am also a course director for climbing and navigation award schemes.

Facebook | Twitter

A Threat of Shadows (The Keeper Chronicles, Book 1) by J.A. Andrews

Release date: July 1, 2016

Subgenre: Epic fantasy

About A Threat of Shadows: 

 

There are decisions that can’t be unmade, paths that cannot be unchosen, choices that change us too much for us to ever change back.

In a desperate attempt to save his dying wife, Alaric has sacrificed everything. He’s abandoned his position as advisor to the Queen, he’s cast aside his role as a Keeper, he’s betrayed his deepest beliefs.

And still he has failed.

Now he's found one last chance at a cure. Haunted by the choices he has made and surrounded by companions who have dangerous secrets of their own, he returns to the people and land he turned his back on.

But soon the quest to save his wife becomes entangled with a larger quest. Gathering shadows threaten the land, whispering of the return of a dark lord, thought to be defeated.

To fight this enemy, the world needs the Keeper Alaric used to be, not the broken man he has become.

Can he regain what he’s lost? Or do some choices change us too much for us to ever go back?

Alaric must decide or, in the face of all the growing shadows, it may be the darkness he carries within himself that destroys everything.


A Threat of Shadows is the first book in The Keeper Chronicles, a new classic fantasy series by JA Andrews. 

In a land of magic, elves, and the occasional dragon, an engaging adventure unfolds about what it means to reconcile who you are, with who you thought you’d be. A story of sacrifice, friendship, and the weight of our pasts. If you enjoy epic fantasy with a likable cast of characters, you’ll love this entertaining beginning to Andrews’ new series. 

Excerpt:

As he skirted around the tree, a white face thrust itself out of the trunk. Alaric jerked away as the hazy form of a man leaned out toward him. Alaric forced himself to study it.

The figure was a young man. He had faded yellow hair and milky white skin. Once the initial shock wore off, the man was not particularly frightening. 

“You are lost,” the ghost whispered as he passed.

Alaric gave a short laugh. “I’ve been lost many times in my life, but this isn’t one of them. And if it’s your job to scare people off, you should consider saying something more chilling and less…depressing.”

Beast kept walking, and Alaric turned to watch the ghost fade into the darkness behind them. 

A rasp pulled his attention forward. Another white form slid out of the tree they were approaching. This one was a young woman. She was rather pretty, for a ghost.

“Hello.” Alaric gave her a polite nod.

“You have failed,” she whispered. “You have failed everyone.”

Alaric scowled. The words rang uncomfortably true. 

Alaric stopped Beast in front of the ghost. Behind the woman’s face, Alaric saw thin, silver runes carved on the bark. Narrowing his focus, he cast out ahead of them along the trail, brushing against the trunks with his senses. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he felt the subtle humming runes dotting the trees ahead. 

The ghost runes were on almost every tree, faces appearing every few steps. 

“Your powers are worthless,” the next whispered and Alaric flinched. 

“It’s your fault,” another rasped. “All your fault.”

Alaric clenched his jaw and stared ahead as the whispers surrounded him.

When he passed close to one large tree, a ghost thrust out close to him. Alaric turned toward it and saw his own face looking back at him. A pale, wasted version of himself. His black hair was faded to a lifeless grey, and his skin, far from being tanned from traveling, was bleached a wrinkly bone white. Only his eyes had stayed dark, sinking from a healthy brown to deep, black pits. 

Alaric stared, repulsed, at the withered apparition of himself—it was decades older than his forty years. The ghost looked tired, a deep crease furrowed between its brows. Alaric reached up and rubbed his own forehead.

The ghost leaned closer.

“She’s dead,” it whispered.

Guilt stabbed into him, deep and familiar. He shuddered, grabbing the pouch at his neck, his mind flooded with the image of Evangeline’s sunken face.

Alaric slammed his palm against the rune on the trunk. 

“Uro!” Pain raced through his hand again. He poured energy into the tree, willing it to burn. The bark smoked as he seared the rune off. 

Out of the corner of his eye, pulses of white light appeared along the path ahead of them. He glanced at them, but the distraction had consequences, and the pain flared, arcing up each finger. He gasped and narrowed his focus back to the energy flowing through his palm. The pain receded slightly. The ghost stared a moment longer, then faded away. Alaric dropped his arm, leaving a hand-shaped scorch mark on the trunk where the rune had been. 

“She’s dead.” 

Alaric’s head snapped forward. 

The trees ahead of him were full of ghosts, each a washed-out version of himself.

“Dead… She’s dead… Dead.” The words filled the air.

Amazon

 

About J.A. Andrews:

 JA Andrews is a writer, wife, mother, and unemployed rocket scientist. She doesn't regret the rocket science degree, but finds it generally inapplicable in daily life. Except for the rare occurrence of her being able to definitively state, "That's not rocket science." She does, however, love the stars.

She began writing stories and creating coloring books because these sorts of things need an outlet. And now good markers are a deductible business expense.

She spends an inordinate amount of time at home, with her family, who she adores, and lives deep in the Rocky Mountains of Montana, where she can see more stars than she ever imagined.

Blog | Facebook | Twitter