NORBRA'S CHILDREN by Michelle Levigne

NORBRA'S CHILDREN by Michelle Levigne

Commonwealth Universe: History: The Downfall: Khrystal Series: Norbra's Children

Before the Commonwealth, there was First Civ, and then the Downfall, an age of barbarism when the galaxy-spanning civilization shattered and colony worlds were abandoned to die or to survive by their own strength.

This is the story of Elin, a direct descendant of the first Khybor, with the future of her race resting on her shoulders. When the Set'ri wanted to declare them non-Humans and have them exterminated, and other factions in civilization wanted them declared a slave race, Elin led the way to a desert world called Norbra, where Khybors had a chance to live free and to raise their children in peace and safety.

But their enemies followed them...

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~Excerpt~

Big Ugh-Ugly’s real name was Serren, and she greeted Elin with music piped into the main cabin and the mouthwatering aromas of fresh pastry just out of the oven in the ship’s galley. Elin laughed and trailed her fingertips over the lump in the wall that showed where Serren’s life-support tank was securely installed and shielded.

“Someone told me that all your habitation functions started malfunctioning during your last long-distance haul,” she scolded softly, and stepped down the spiraling stairs into the galley.

“You know how most of my equipment is voice-activated. Something happened to the program,” Serren responded, her synthetic voice a meshing of harp strings and woodwinds. “It needs to hear ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ at regular intervals.”

“Ah. That explains quite a bit. I’ll make a note of it in my report. So, anything interesting happen on this last run?” Elin settled down with the fresh pastry and propped her feet up on the bench on the other side of the dining booth.

It only took ten minutes for Serren to bring up the tapes of the scientific team she had transported on her last assignment. The tapes showed most of the members of the team participating in suspicious activities, including unauthorized personnel coming on board and unauthorized cargo being hidden in compartments no one but spaceport crew should have been able to open. To keep them from getting into her outer layers of memory and security and wiping the records, Serren had forced malfunctions on her ship, to keep the scientists busy and make it more than believable that she couldn’t open the storage compartments where the contraband and stowaways were still hidden.

Elin thought of the stink from several days of imprisonment, no food or water or hygiene facilities, and didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry or scold Serren. Wrinkleship pilots had to defend themselves with whatever methods necessary, simply because the technicians and military personnel who were supposed to protect them were often those most guilty of abuse and neglect.

She opened the access channel in her tool wristband and linked all the information directly to her superior, the Wrinkleship liaison and legal advocate. By the time Elin finished her pastry and shared a few stories about mutual friends with Serren, Security had arrived, ready to open the formerly jammed shut compartments. Elin noted the communication log showed repeated attempts by the scientific team to get back onto the ship and get into those jammed compartments, and their insistence that they didn’t need help from the military or security personnel to do it.

Elin exchanged warm good-byes with Serren and sauntered back down to the security checkpoint while everyone else was busy inside the ship. The colonel – she still couldn’t remember his name – was alone.

“That didn’t take long,” he greeted her, and looked her over, head to toe. “I checked your duty shift and you’re off in two hours. I’ll meet you at Vinder’s in three. Wear something green and soft.”

“I don’t recall you asking if I wanted to spend time with you.” Elin wanted to add that she owned nothing either soft or green, and she certainly wouldn’t waste time prettying herself for him.

“Doesn’t matter what you want.” His pleasant smile turned into a smirk. He patted the security console. “With this, I can find out all sorts of things about you that you might not want people to know, and I can make changes to your record if I need to. Wouldn’t it just be smarter and more fun to play along? I thought you were a smart girl.”

“Elin.” Rorin stepped into the room. He tipped his head toward the door, indicating she should leave.

“Three hours,” the colonel called after her when she nodded to Rorin and stepped out.

“I don’t think so,” Rorin responded. His voice hadn’t changed one bit, but Elin’s sensitivity to vibrations and changing chemicals in the air told her that he hung poised on the verge of something nasty.

Two hours later, instead of heading to her home outside the city after her duty shift, Elin found herself standing in a judiciary’s office, verifying Colonel Rorin Pace’s assertion that he had been defending her from sexual harassment when he struck the Security colonel and knocked him unconscious. The man still hadn’t awakened. The security cameras had malfunctioned suspiciously, halting just before Elin was due to step into the security checkpoint and then resuming just moments after she left, and just in time for the vicious argument between the two men. The gap in the recording did more for verifying the colonel’s illicit demands than anything Elin or Rorin might have said.

“You realize, our public relations campaign has worked too well,” Elin said. “No one is afraid of body contact or exchange of fluids anymore.”

“It doesn’t help that Khybors are in such perfect health, thanks to Khrystal, they’re hard to resist.” He linked his arm through hers and led her off the walkway, into a middle-class market district, where Elin was sure they would find a quiet corner to sit and gorge on food bought at a dozen different vendor carts.

“I think it’s time for us to leave,” she said softly.

“But we just got – oh, that leave.” Rorin nodded.

They had grown up listening to her mother and grandmother talk about a future in which Khybors might need to strike out across the vastness of space, to find a place safe from both the destructive beliefs of the Set’ri, and the foolish prejudices and fears of ordinary Humans.

“It’s just about time for another idiot to get vocal and start pressuring for us to be declared either precious resources to be carefully controlled, or mental defectives to be sterilized and kept away from the innocent and vulnerable.” She grinned when Rorin hocked and spat, effective comment on that sentiment. “If so-called civilized folk are so afraid of us that they want to take away our minds and free will and the right to reproduce, then we should just leave. Take away all the services we perform for the settled universe. Let ordinary Humans suffer without all the things we provide and do for them. They can’t have their luxuries and easy living without giving us some respect.”

“Has to be done quietly,” he said, and gestured for her to step into a shaded alcove full of trees and a tiny, chuckling fountain. “If they realize their semi-slave class is about to run away, they really will lock us up this time.”

“Quietly and slowly,” Elin agreed.

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WHO SAW THE DEEP by Christine Klocek-Lim

WHO SAW THE DEEP by Christine Klocek-Lim

When Noah moves back home after grad school, he doesn’t expect a simple handyman job to turn deadly. Amelia seems like a sweet old lady with a run-down house, but appearances can be deceptive. When an alien ship lands in her woods, Noah discovers that everything he believed about Earth and human civilization is wrong.

Amelia already gave her heart to one man—does she really want to let another one inside? Even though Noah is everything she ever wanted, can she really trust him? He seems like a good person, but her family’s genetic legacy is more important than romance.

When all their secrets are laid bare, Noah and Amelia discover that the survival of their species may be more dependent on love than either could have imagined. Civilization endures because of anonymous acts executed by ordinary individuals. And love, especially in the face of betrayal, is worth everything.

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Excerpt:


“Noah, hold up.”

He ignored her. She dug her heels into the ground and hung on. He stopped, reluctantly turning. She looked at his face, so dear. The rain had matted down his hair, the brown strands sticking to his cheeks. She reached up, picking apart some of them, letting her fingers linger over his eyelids. She’d liked him almost from the first moment he’d come to her house, hands shoved into his jeans, face tired. She let her fingers fall down to his lips and his expression softened.

“We don’t have time for this,” he said gently. She shook her head, drew him closer. He came willingly and she dug her nose into his chest as they clung to each other. When she lifted her face, he kissed her roughly, as if afraid she wasn’t real. She hung onto him, kissing back until the chill from the rain disappeared and all she could think about was the heat between them. He groaned, kissing down her jaw, hands shaking.

“I’m not dead,” she said.

He hugged her tighter, trembling. “Your skin was all black. God.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Um, ewww.”

He choked out a laugh. “Yeah, it was certainly gross. I waited for you to disintegrate, but you never did. I grabbed you and the house collapsed around us as I ran. I didn’t know what to do.” He pulled back. Amelia couldn’t tell if he was crying—the rain soaked them both.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you about me.” She sighed. “I didn’t know if I should tell you.”

“Leah doesn’t believe you, does she?” he asked, voice soft.

A pang of terror raced through her as she thought about facing her daughter again.

“No. I tried to explain it to her but she thinks I’m crazy. It’s not like I could demonstrate.” She turned away, began walking down the trail again. “I mean, how do you explain this to your daughter?” She waved at herself.

Noah slung his arm around her shoulders. “What happens if you kill yourself?”

From the light tone of his voice, Amelia knew he had no idea. “I would die for real,” she said, flatly.

He stopped, face drawn. “Okay, I could see how that would be bad.”

She snorted. “Why do you think there aren’t more of us running around? The women in my family are immortal. We live and die and then come back to life. Like pushing a reset button. One of us could conceivably do this forever.”

Noah shuddered, clearly thinking of the larger picture.

“Exactly. And yes, before you ask, some of us tried. My mother told me stories about a few of our ancestors who went insane after centuries of rebirth. She mentioned one who forced a slave to kill her every year so she never aged.” Amelia’s step faltered.

“So how come there aren’t more of you?” Noah asked.

“We have two weaknesses: we can kill ourselves and we can kill each other.”

“But that means—” he broke off, his voice cracking.

“Yeah. We eat our own.”

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REGISTRATION by Linda Andrews

REGISTRATION by Linda Andrews

Syn-En Series Book Three

Driven from Earth, Admiral Beijing York led an armada of Synthetically-Enhanced human soldiers and its civilian crew to settle an alien world. Their new society is beginning to flourish when Bei is informed that no human, Syn-En or otherwise, can be free until the species registers on a distant planet. Determined to protect humanity, Bei and his wife lead an advanced scouting team to secure their liberty.

And an ancient enemy is waiting to intercept them. The Founding Five won't give up their favorite slaves or medical guinea pigs without a fight.

Now Bei must decide if freedom is worth the price when he may have to sacrifice everyone he loves to win.

Book 1: The Syn-En Solution

Book 2: Syn-En: Culture Clash

Book 3: Syn-En Registration

 

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Chapter 1

Fisting his chin, Beijing York drummed on the arm of his command chair. The circular bridge hummed with the power of the fusion nacelles on the lower deck. Sensors sent data in streams down the portholes and through the fiberoptic cable connecting his cerebral interface to the helm. The greenish glow of the magnetic shields seeped through the metal bulkheads–technology protecting weak biology.

A mirror of his own existence, his own body.

Bei’s drumming fingers curled into a fist on the metal armrest. Prostheses for arms and legs, synthetically-enhanced relays for nerves, neodynamic armor for skin, and a cerebral interface implanted in his fragile human brain to integrate everything.

A compression alert flared yellow across his senses and he relaxed his hand.

His human wife, Nell Stafford called him a cyborg——the best of man and machine.

Everyone else called him a Syn-En.

Synthetically-enhanced human. Always the humanity was last, tagged on as an afterthought. He and those like him had to fight to be considered equals.

So many Syn-En had died…

And still the journey wasn’t complete.

He had to travel to the planet Erwar to register like an extinct Earth dog. Only then would the Syn-En under his command, and the rest of humanity, be considered sentient.

Only then would all parts of him have universal rights and freedoms.

Only then…

A soft thump echoed through the crew quarters on the deck below this one and up the stairs into the spaceship’s bridge. The Icarus was small for an interstellar craft. She had two decks and a saucer-shaped bridge connected to her beetle-like body through a narrow stairway. The engines and cargo bay were on the lowest level and the crew quarters and galley on the upper one.

Not enough space when two of his men were at each other’s throats. Sound carried far in a tin can.

“I am not being unreasonable.” Frankfurt Rome’s growl reverberated against the Smart Metal Alloy of the hull, punctuated by the punch of his fist against a bulkhead. “I would have liked to have been consulted before you went ahead and made me a daddy-to-be.”

Bei winced. Obviously his Chief of Security had finished his two-hour sleep cycle and needed another twenty or thirty. Too bad the Skaperians, their new alien allies, hadn’t shared their stasis technology. Even Bei’s tenth generation auditory upgrades couldn’t block the Chief’s temper tantrum. Bei mentally made a note to retrofit the Icarus with sound dampening technology in the crew quarters.

Rome’s wife, Havanna Keyes snorted. “You would have said no.”

Bei shook his head. If his communication’s officer performed her job as badly as she fought this battle, he’d have transferred her twenty-nine days, three hours and six seconds ago.

“Of course I would have said no. I don’t want a weak, squalling, inferior human infant.” Rome vented his anger in a series of short raps. “It’s bad enough we have to defend them.”

Caution lights flared in the galley. With a thought, Bei increased the bulkhead’s sound deafening ability. He didn’t need Rome waking Nell. His wife needed at least eight hours of sleep a night. Something she hadn’t received since boarding, nearly thirty days ago.

Thanks to his two squabbling officers.

He could have stopped it with a simple order, should have. But his wife had forbidden him to interfere. Stripping his best friend of his limbs and hanging him on a hook in the cargo compartment wouldn’t be interfering, would it?

“This baby is ours, something only we could make. Together.” Keyes repeated her argument. “This is different than our assembly-line legs, arms, eyes and hair. Nothing else in the universe can create something like it. Nothing.”

A baby conceived by Syn-Ens.

The first since the cyborg soldiers had been created.

Something hot and fierce flashed inside Bei before his cerebral interface compensated. One day, he and Nell…

“I don’t want it.”

“Then you don’t want me. Consider our term at an end.”

Keyes’ words barely scraped Bei’s audio sensors and his artificial heart nearly seized. She was terminating her and Rome’s marriage? But they’d been together forever. The three of them had been inducted in the Syn-En Forces together. They’d stood together through innumerable technological upgrades as their humanity was literally hacked off them.

Soft footfalls slipped down the hallway. Fabric whispered then there was a thump on the lower deck. Keyes was heading toward the engine room.

“No!” Rome clomped after her. His bigger bulk landed harder and echoed through the ship. “You are my mate. Forever. Nothing could ever come between us. Ever.”

Bei sealed off the hatch between the decks. Maybe if he locked them in, they would work this out between them once and for all. And he would have blessed silence for the next two days to Erwar.

Soft footsteps emerged in the quiet.

Nell. Her walk, her touch and her scent were encoded on his subroutines.

She shuffled up the stairs and onto the bridge, yawning. Fatigue bruised the delicate skin under her blue eyes. Static electricity crackled in her shoulder-length blond hair and across the small camera recording their trip for posterity.

The documentary was Nell’s contribution——as if being a representative of the species wasn’t enough.

“Gene Roddenberry got it wrong.”

Gene who? Bei ran the name through the Icarus’s Combat Information Center. No one under his command went by the name, but he did find an entry under Twentieth Century entertainment. The man was dust by now. Bei relaxed in his chair.

“Space isn’t the final frontier. A man’s head is.” Crouching down, Nell released the lever locking Bei’s chair in front of the workstation and pulled him back. She reset the clamp and sat on his lap. “And even angels fear to tread there.”

Bei wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her in place. “Do you think Rome is wrong?”

Wiggling, she drew her legs up then curled against his chest. “No, Keyes should have told him he was going to be the baby-daddy. But it’s more than that. If that baby came out with mechanical legs and arms, Rome would be a proud papa. It’s the human part that has him scared.”

Not much scared Rome.

Not much scared many Syn-Ens.

But this was emotion, forbidden territory until the Syn-Ens had declared their independence. Now it was unwritten code. A proper response would take ages to perfect and write into their programming.

Wisps of hair tickled Bei’s chin. He smoothed the fly-away strands to the edges then unstrapped the headband holding the camera against her temple. “You think I should intervene? Send him some of those… What did you call them? Chick-flick files to speed up his adaption?”

She snuggled closer, pressed kisses against his jaw. “Chick-Flick movies. And not many men, even in my time, would go to see them.”

Her time. A hundred and twenty-five years in the past. Before the world had been FUBARed. Before her brother had volunteered to become one of the first Syn-En. “So, I should send the files to Keyes?”

“No.”

Her warm breath cascaded down the collar of his black uniform. His body tightened, preparing for the command it liked so much. Unfortunately, he couldn’t give it. Not with the fifth member of their crew unaccounted for.

The sneaky amarook could appear and disappear at will——usually at inconvenient times.

Nell looped her arms around Bei’s shoulders. “Elvis is in the building, or rather in the co-pilot’s chair.”

The creature shimmered into view on the seat next to Bei’s. Although similar to an extinct Earth wolf, Amarooks possessed six limbs–the four traditional paws of a canine and an extra set of slim arms and hands minus the opposable thumbs. Cobalt eyes burned under a mop of black feathers combed back, with one curl escaping in the human Elvis’s trademark do. Sleek black fur covered the rest of his body. “Golly Nell, you weren’t supposed to tell I was here.”

The voice came out of the medallion around Elvis’s thick throat. The translator changed the amarook’s telepathic thoughts into words, so everyone could communicate.

Nell had never needed the technology. The amarook’s leader had forged a mental bond with Bei’s wife, because of their shared experiences at the hands of the Skaperians. Sometimes it was useful.

Elvis’s nostrils flared. “Your mate is in heat, Nell.”

And sometimes the bond was damned annoying. Bei accessed power controls. Maybe he could shunt a small charge to Elvis’s seat. Not to hurt the feather-faced mammal, just get him out of the chair. Then Bei could shut the door and get a little alone time with his wife.

She flushed and pressed her face against Bei’s neck. “Human males don’t go into heat.”

Elvis sniffed the air again. His eyes narrowed and his ears twitched. “You are in heat.”

Bei’s fingers clenched. Nell wanted to conceive on this trip? He double-checked the artificial gravity setting as he seemed to float. His child. His and Nell’s. Unique in the universe. No way would he impregnate his wife on the bridge.

This deserved a bed.

“Elvis.” Nell shuddered on Bei’s lap. “You know, I’m on birth control.”

Birth control. She didn’t want his child. Bei’s oxygen levels depleted until he reset his breathing relays.

Red tinged Elvis’s muzzle. “No baby? But why? There are so few of you humans. And you are an extraordinary human.”

She blew the hair out of her eyes, but she was looking at Bei when she answered. “Doc says there’s still traces of Skaperian DNA in my egg basket. So until the Easter Bunny delivers a new batch of colored eggs, we’re waiting until I get a clean, human-only bill of health.”

Ah, he should have known she had a good reason. Bei kissed his wife’s nose then her cheek. His lips registered the dampness and salt on her skin. Only five months had passed since she’d awoken from her long slumber.

She still had nightmares from the ordeal and slept in his lap instead of in their bed, alone.

Even now, his sensors detected her elevated heartrate and excess adrenalin in her bloodstream.

“You’re safe.” He tucked her head under his chin. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Not ever again.

“Neither will I.” Elvis sunk deep into his chair, wrapped his bushy black tail around his behind and glared at the bank of windows. “We shall raise a strong, fierce daughter to gut all of humanity’s enemies.”

Whoa. Bei had forgotten the creatures were a bloodthirsty lot. “My child——”

Elvis held up his two hands. “Of course, a boy will be trained in the arts if you so wish it.”

And sexist, too. Bei set his hand over Nell’s flat stomach. “My child will be what he or she wants to be.”

“Training should begin as soon as possible.” Elvis shook his head. “It is bad enough that it takes many years for your species to be coordinated enough to weild a weapon without self-injury.”

Holding his wife tight, Bei rose from his seat. Now, his species wasn’t good enough for the feather-headed mammal? “You–”

“This is a moot discussion.” Clinging to his shoulders, Nell stood on tiptoe on the floor. “It’ll be several more months before I’ll be ready to even try for a baby, and Bei and I still have to negotiate terms.”

Negotiate? As one of the first Syn-Ens to have their forced sterility reversed, he was more than ready to go.

Nell set her finger over his lips before he could answer. “We’re going to have to figure out how to balance your role as leader of the new Skaperian-Amarook-Human alliance and change poopy diapers, ‘cuz there’s no way I’m raising the kiddies while you go off living the Star Trek dream.”

“What?” Bei ran her words through his com subroutine and still couldn’t make sense of it.

“We eat the poop of our young.” Elvis rolled out of the chair. His nails clicked against the metal deck and his pink tongue lolled out of his head. “And clean them too.”

Nell wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting.”

Elvis arched one feathered eyebrow. “It is most informative regarding the pups’ nutrition and health status.”

An ache stretched across Bei’s forehead. He accessed his memory banks, tried to find a logic pathway in the conversation. And failed. The base of his neck tingled. Well, no wonder. They were fighting half verbally and the rest telepathically.

Releasing Bei, Nell shook her finger at Elvis. “Don’t even think about eating my baby’s poop.”

Elvis’s tail wagged and his furry lips tilted into a smile. “As her Godparent, I will—”

The amarook yelped and clutched his head.

Go Nell! Hit the smart-ass canine where it hurts——his ego.

Nell paled and grabbed Bei’s arm. “There’s something…”

Her eyes rolled back in her head and her legs folded.

Bei scooped her up and activated medical protocols. Elevated heart rate. Rising blood pressure. Brain waves off the charts. He speared the feather-head with a glare. “What did you do?”

Elvis whimpered and collapsed. “Attack. Under.”

The amarook’s communication medallion winked from his chest.

Images and emotions exploded inside Bei’s head. Ugly arthropod-like creatures in black. Beautiful willowy creatures in shades of green.

And fear.

Lots of fear.

Bei’s mouth soured; his stomach clenched. The enemy was nearby. At the speed of a thought, he activated the alarm. Blood red light strobed the small bridge.

On the level below, Rome and Keyes jacked into the Combat Information Center. Their pixelated avatars joined him in cyberspace.

“I’ve got a ship off the starboard bow.” Keyes stuck her hands into the data-stream and pulled out what she needed. “Comparing identity against the Skaperian’s database.”

Rome’s digital blond hair stood on end as he combed through other data packets. “They’re building up power in their fore engines.”

“Shields at max. Energy weapons charging.” Although the connection to the CIC dimmed Bei’s vision, he could still see Elvis collapsed on the deck and Nell in his arms.

Both were stirring.

He had to get them out of here. One hit and the thin hull could rupture, yet he couldn’t leave his tether to the helm. Couldn’t afford to lose a nanosecond of response time. “Let me know if I can fire, Rome.”

Nell shook her head and blinked. “I’ll get to the safe room.”

Bei tightened his grip.

Setting her palm against his skin, she kissed his cheek. “You’ll do better without me distracting you.”

No! The last time they’d been separated, she’d been kidnapped by aliens and he’d been ordered to kill her. He activated his tactical programming and the emotional maelstrom inside him calmed. He set her on her feet. She would be safe on the ship. This wasn’t like last time.

“Don’t do anything suicidal.” Holding onto Elvis’s scruff, she staggered to the door.

“Shit!” Rome’s anger crackled in lightning bolts around his avatar. “It’s a weapon. They’re firing!”

A digital image of the two ships wavered in the Combat Information Center. Light shot from the enemy’s saucer-shaped craft.

At Bei’s command, the Icarus unleashed his first salvo. In the space between heartbeats, he waited to see the impact before making adjustments to insure the kill shot.

The energy weapon hit.

The Icarus bucked beneath his feet.

Then the EMP pulse blasted the hull.

It slammed into his circuits. Red alerts blazed to life. Pathways caught fire. Bei’s body convulsed before his consciousness gave up the fight.

He forced a total shut down, just as fatal errors initiated.

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CIMMERIAN CITY by Rae Lori

CIMMERIAN CITY by Rae Lori

Book One in the Cimmerian Duology

Today, corporations are the new aristocracy. A laundry list of side effects accompanies almost every new drug introduced on the market. What if these side effects changed us?

Imagine waking up in a futuristic world were corporations are the new aristocracy. The world has been divided into 2 hemispheres and 2 races: Humans and quick tough skinned vampire-like creatures that are children of the side effects of 20th century pharmaceutical experiments...Dracins.

Imagine dying as a human . . . and waking up as something else.

This is the life of Raven Blackheart, a formerly bored college student turned agent for the Tech Corporation, the largest corporate entity in the Western Hemisphere. Vice President Tyler Deamond, directs Raven as a go between and the last hope for the unification of Humans and Dracins. As deaths start occurring within the corporation headquarters, Raven notices someone is working their way up the food chain. Alliances are questioned as Deamond's intentions aren't quite as noble as they seem. A figure reemerges from Raven's past who may have all the answers to the disappearance of her father...

Cimmerian City is a futuristic sci-fi thriller where government has become big business, pharmaceuticals carry a veil of ghastly side effects and a third world war is brewing between the two races.

Relax...It's just the 21st century.

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~Excerpt~

Raven’s eyes shot open. She flinched from the blinding sunlight streaming through her bedroom window.
Morning. It was morning.

What happened last night?

After she left class and Jack behind, she took the bus to the art store…but somehow she didn’t remember making it there. Nor did she recall coming home.

Her head throbbed as she pushed herself upright. It felt like a thousand elves were pattering around in her head, banging to get out. Then the pitch-black darkness of her surroundings started coming back to her.

Duskiness surrounded her with only a smattering of light around the city to let her know how close the nearest town sat. She remembered hopping off the bus after it stopped. She remembered the kind-faced bus driver, an older man of Native American descent, who looked upon her for far too long, as if he knew her. However, she had never seen the man before in her life...or had she?

It was even one of those dreams where she could actually see herself from afar. Although she couldn't see her features too clearly, Raven still recognized the same long black hair framing her heart-shaped face and almond brown eyes that danced at the edge of black, along with her full pink lips and cinnamon-brown skin. She could see her parents in her eyes and face. Shades of both her father of the Blackfoot tribe heritage and her Egyptian mother echoed off her own features. She tried hard not to think of them but when she saw herself in the mirror and in dreams like this, it was difficult not to feel the hole in her heart from their deaths.

Images flashed and popped into her thoughts. The deserted train tracks that sat in the middle of the desert, the sound of an oncoming train, and heavy breathing. Then the weight of a body that pushed her to the ground and sliced at her arms.

Her arms suddenly began throbbing as if signaling her attention to the pain.

Raven ripped the sheet away from her arm and peered down. Amidst the dark brown of her skin, there was nothing. No sign of a scratch or any indentation to mark her. What was going on here? Was it all just a dream?

As the question popped in her mind, the shrill scream of the phone broke the quietness, distracting Raven from the vivid images of the all too real nightmare. She looked around the room to remind herself of her comforting surroundings. It was inviting, all right. The warm oak furniture that sat around her bed incited a memory of when she and Jack had picked the pieces up after she got her first home. They bought the nightstand stacked with art books at a garage sale from an older woman who was selling her daughter’s furniture after she got married and moved out. The desk, overfilled with both her and Jack’s art pieces, reminded her of the bargain they struck with the owner, shortly before it was to be tossed away and forgotten in the trash heap. Jack took pride in patching it up, sanding it off, and then applying a coat of finish to bring out the natural wood.

The house itself was a bargain, too. Raven couldn’t afford much on the meager salary she got when working spare jobs at the Navajo reservation but she jumped in with all her savings and part of her scholarship money to rent it.

Since then, Raven had fallen in love with the small home. Sometimes she would complain about the tiny space and imagined moving into a larger spread with multiple bedrooms and furnishings. After last night’s ordeal that may or may not have happened, her little house was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Her mother, father, aunt and uncle would be so proud... if they were still alive.

Slowly, she stretched out her shaky arms. They were smooth and unscratched. Perhaps it was a dream. Even she couldn’t have imagined that kind of pain.

Raven exhaled heavily.

At twenty-five, she was not ready for any signs of a heart attack nor was she prepared to be delusional. What seemed like a regular night had turned into something out of a nightmare. She had to get this out in the open or else she would surely end up going crazy with obsession.

She looked up and felt relief flow through her at the return of silence. The phone must have stopped ringing sometime ago while she was distracted. Suddenly, it started its incessant ringing again.

Part of her wanted to scream until it stopped. Instead, she exhaled. “Someone’s going to have to get that,” she muttered.

The phone stopped ringing midway as someone picked it up. “Hello?” The deep, muffled voice came from the kitchen.

Raven peeked into the hall. “Jack, is that you?”

Relief spread over her as she recalled the familiar face. Jack. Just the person she wanted to see. His warm smile, sparkling hazel eyes, and sturdy but thin build immediately calmed her. She would give anything to melt into his arms and lose herself in his embrace, his soft words, and his touch. They had been together for almost a year now, and he was the only person she could trust in the whole world. The only person that mattered to her since she had no family.

The faint chorus of the musical news theme erupted from the living room television set. She smiled to herself. That was Jack, practical, informative and always needing the news on when he came over to see her each morning.

“Blood clots and blood disorders affect more than five million people in the US alone. For a cleaner system, try Delanin, the leading non-prescription medication that targets blood cells for a cleaner flow through the entire body. Consult your doctor if any side effects or allergic reactions occur. Brought to you by Dridan. Making a better future, today.”

Raven idly rubbed her shoulders where the scratches would have been. “Cleaner blood flow?” She chuckled. “They’ll make a pill for anything these days.”

She shook her head and opened her mouth to call out to Jack. However, just at that very moment, he appeared in the doorway with her black cordless phone in his hand.

“What happened last night?” she asked. She didn’t realize how groggy she was until she heard the sound of her own raspy voice.

Jack laughed. “Good one, Hon. Just sit there and pretend as if you didn’t give me a heart attack when they found you.” He froze at the look on her face, and then his smile melted into a frown. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really don’t remember?”

Raven shook her head. “No, I really don’t. Tell me, Jack.”

He placed his hand over the receiver and walked toward her. “They found you unconscious in the desert,” he said softly. “They thought you may have suffered from heat stroke or something.”

“They?”

“Police officers. They brought you here this morning. Good thing you kept your address handy in your backpack like I suggested.”

“My backpack!” Raven leaned forward, remembering the tugging from the unseen hands. She could almost feel the jerking and hear the tearing as whatever it was behind her dug into the backpack material. Maybe there would be proof on her backpack of what attacked her. Pain spiked at the center of her forehead, jolting her backwards onto the bed.

“Easy… Easy,” Jack soothed. “Your backpack is fine. I put it in the living room in front of the television.”

“Jack,” Raven said, cradling her head. “Last night was warm, but nothing intense. Especially not hot enough to cause a heat stroke.”

Jack’s gaze flicked to the phone in his hand. “It’s Mr. Davies. He wants to talk to you about your absent days from work.”

“I don’t want to talk to him. Jack, you have to—”

Jack sighed before placing the phone up to his ear. “She’s a bit detained at the moment, Mr. Davies, but I’ll be sure to have her call you… All right… Bye.”

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Raven said.

Clicking the phone off, he laughed. “Talking like that I’m beginning to believe so. Look Rave, I’m just glad you’re okay and they found you when they did. Something could have happened to you while you were out there in the middle of nowhere. If I had just gone with you…” He stopped and looked down at his vise-like grip on the phone. His smooth, tanned hand quickly turned white. Slowly, with a sigh, he released it.

“Jack, I’m sorry. I really just needed a little time to myself. I thought it would be a quick trip.”
He didn’t say anything, as he wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her close in a tight embrace. Reaching down, he slipped his hand under her chin and pulled her into a soft kiss. His lips were warm and sweet, just what the doctor ordered. Raven felt him push the phone to the side and hold her gently as he kissed her deeply. Then she moved down to lie in the crook of his neck and shoulder. He smelled fresh, like a cool breeze and soft musk. She also spotted a hint of India ink and figured he had come over to work on his latest drawing again. Right then and there, she knew that smell would always remind her of Jack.

“Don’t do that to me again, Rave.” He whispered into her hair. “I couldn’t bear it if I lost you.”

She gave him a tight squeeze as the teapot whistled loudly from the kitchen. With a kiss on her forehead and a final one on her lips, he stood. “Now, you stay in bed and rest, okay? I’ll get you some tea and breakfast.” She watched him as he walked from the room.

Raven found herself missing his embrace as soon as he left. Although they had spent nearly all of their time together, were rather intimate and getting ever closer, Raven had never been ready to give her body to him. She had gladly let him into her heart, where he had been the only occupant since her family’s death, and since they often shared the same thoughts, it was easy to let him into her mind.

But her body…

Raven wrapped her arms around herself at the thought. She wanted it to be special. Many times, she had dreamed of the weight of his body pushing down against hers. The feel of his lips brushing through her lips before his mouth overtook hers. A sea of caresses would mesh their limbs together as one as they bound themselves to each other both in heart and body. Perhaps she had romanticized it a bit but the human connection she always felt was always lacking, except when she daydreamed. She had never grown up expecting to wait but as she distanced herself from everyone she met, it felt natural to close off from that kind of physical human contact. She would think about it, sometimes dream about how the first time would be. Deep in her heart, she knew Jack was going to be the man to journey there with her once the time was right. She was thankful he hadn’t pushed her into anything.

Raven swung her legs over the side of the bed as the sounds and smells of salty crispy bacon, fluffy eggs, and warm tea with a light toast on the side, wafted into the bedroom air. Jack always knew what she wanted.

Ignoring the rush of blood escaping her brain, Raven pushed to her feet and started toward the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled, and her tongue salivated with the anticipation of the feast ahead. The morning newscaster still twittered from the TV as she made her way across the hall.

“That better be a big tall, hairy monster coming toward me with an axe in hand because I distinctly remember telling Raven Blackheart to remain in bed while I brought her food.”

Raven chuckled. “What can I say? I’ll be hard-headed until the day I die.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, love. So marry me.”

Raven froze in her tracks. It sounded like Jack. It even looked like Jack. But she could have sworn it was a body snatcher who had just asked that question. Either that or she was completely losing her mind.

Jack finally turned to look over his shoulder at her. “No response? Color me surprised. I’ve never known you to go tight-lipped. ”

“I…” What was she supposed to say? “I didn’t think you were serious.”

Jack slipped a piece of bacon in his mouth and shrugged. “You’re right. I’m screwing this up already.” He walked to her and went down on his knees then took her hand.

"One knee..." Raven whispered, trying to bite back a smile.

Jack looked down. "Oh! Right." He quickly hopped up on one knee and then cleared his throat.

“Raven Blackheart. The first time I saw you in class, I knew I had to convince you that I wasn’t entirely crazy but that I really liked you and wanted to get to know you. We’ve been together through some hard times and I know I’ve been a pain. I know you’ve been a pain.”

She playfully shoved him, causing him to laugh.

Becoming serious, he continued, “I love you, Raven. Breaking through those walls you have put up hasn’t been easy, but I’m patient. I just want to be there for you and I want you to be my wife. I don’t have much, but I do have my word and my heart.” He looked down at the half-eaten bacon in his free hand and raised it. “And bacon.”

Raven couldn’t help giggling. “Food is the way to your heart, Jack. Not mine.”

“Yeah well, I don’t have a ring yet.” He wrapped the bacon strip around her finger. “Figured we could go shopping or something. Pick one out of a catalog or…”

She pulled his face into hers and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “You are insane, you know that? Only you would give me an engagement ring made of bacon.”

Jack snorted. “I wanted to leave an impression.”

“Oh you’ve already done that.” She leaned into his embrace. Misjudging his stance, she fell backward into his arms in a mass of giggles and limbs. The kitchen floor was cold and hard to the touch, but Raven didn’t care. This is what she missed and, even more so, this is what she needed after such a harrowing night.

Jack scooped her up into his arms. “So, is that a yes?”

She nestled the bacon strip around her fingers and held it up. “What do you think?”

He kissed her again and moaned softly when she deepened it. “Mmm, the food is going to get cold and if we stay down here any longer, I cannot be accountable for my actions.”

Jack stood and offered her a hand up. He then went back to preparing their breakfast.

“I really wish you had talked to Mr. Davies,” he said, scooping the eggs onto two plates.

Raven maneuvered her fingers to lift the bacon strip to her mouth. Mmm, not crispy but nice, warm and a little undercooked just like she liked. “He’s the last thing I’m worried about right now, Jack.”

“Already thinking about wedding plans, huh? We should have something small. I have some cash in my savings but I think we should hang onto it until after the wedding so we won’t be living in a cardboard box under an overpass or something.”

She shook her head as she settled into the chair at the small breakfast nook table. “I was thinking about last night. Heat stroke doesn’t attack my backpack, jump on my back, and scratch my arm.”

Jack froze when he reached the table. A wrinkle formed in the middle of his forehead. He grabbed her arm, turned it over and analyzed the skin. “I don’t see any scratches.”

“That’s what’s so crazy. I remember it distinctly. I even remember feeling it but there’s no sign of it.” She sighed. “I don’t think it was human.”

“What?”

Raven exhaled slowly. If he thought she was talking nutsy now, he would think she completely lost it when she voiced this next idea. “Whatever attacked me? It didn’t feel like a person. It felt like…a thing.” Before he could stop her and express any doubt, she continued. “I think something’s out there over those hills, Jack. I can’t be sure but I saw lights on the other side, like flashlights. And I heard voices. The train track that’s been deserted for years was still working and I think something is happening out there. Scratch that, I ‘m sure about it. I want to go back and check it out.”

“Raven.” The urgency in his voice told her he was ready to unload a series of logical reasoning that could explain everything she presented before him. She watched him grab the hand towel from his shoulder and toss it onto the marble counter. Then he frowned. “You’re serious about this…”

“Yeah, I am. If it hadn’t been for my backpack....” Her backpack! That was it! She remembered her previous thought. If she could find the scratch marks, she could try to figure out what kind of beast had attacked her. And then she could really prove she wasn’t imagining all this.

Raven jumped from her chair and swung around to head to the living room. Right away she spotted her backpack lying against the wall near the front door.

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the dark green thread sewn along the sides of the pockets. Slowly, she ran her fingers over the thin thread to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. To anyone else, the thread would be invisible, but Raven knew her backpack. The thread was a slightly lighter shade than the rest of the backpack.

“Did you do this?” she asked softly.

“What?”

She thrust the backpack forward. “This, Jack. Did you sew this back up?”

Jack folded his arms. “Raven, you know it was like that already.”

She scoffed. “No, no it wasn’t. Look, the thread is new. I never sewed this up nor did I rip it. Jack, you have to believe me.”

“Shhh. Shh. Come on now.” He pulled her into his arms and held her.

What was going on? If she had been a conspiracy theorist, she would think someone was trying to cover something up. But why would they do such a thing to her? She was nobody, a student, who happened to take a wrong turn off the wrong bus track.

Raven’s grip loosened until she felt the backpack fall from her hands and onto the floor with a soft thud. She wrapped her arms around Jack, indulging in the feel of his muscled back and thin frame as he held onto her tightly.

“What’s going on with me, Jack? I feel like my mind is trying to tell me something but my brain refuses to show me. And I can’t shake this feeling. I just know something is wrong.”

“Listen,” Jack reached down and cradled her face in his hands, “come, and eat breakfast. We’ll sit and relax for a while, and then you can tell me what happened. Tell me whatever you remembered. After that, maybe we can take the same route there and trace your steps to see if we can find anything. Sound good?”

Raven nodded. Good old Jack. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

“Why? Because I always cave to your demands when you bat those pretty eyes and give me that sexy pout?” He slipped his hands over her hips and gently nuzzled her neck.

Raven gave him another playful shove. “No, I’m serious. I could really use your support.”

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes sparkling again. He was as handsome as she had ever seen him. A thin face matched with wispy, short dark brown hair and a tan complexion made him look perfect in her eyes. Gently he reached up and caressed the side of her face. “You’ll always have my support, Babe. No matter what, we’re in this together.”

“Together.” She liked the sound of that. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him even tighter. Then a loud smack and the warm tingle on her rear nearly made her jump to the ceiling.
“Now, go eat your breakfast so we can get out of here. Granger’s class is in a few hours and I still need to finish this assignment.”

Raven started toward the kitchen with Jack behind her, grabbing for her again. She laughed and jumped, pretending to dodge his moves. It felt good to laugh and be silly again. After what she went through, it was a welcome distraction before the storm.

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STEAMROLLED by Pauline Baird Jones

STEAMROLLED by Pauline Baird Jones

With all of time at risk, it's a bad time to fall in love...unless it's the only time...

Robert Clementyne is going on a transmogrification machine hunt. He fears finding the machine will be as difficult as pronouncing the name. How can the steam-powered device perform as advertised, and how useful can any information be, coming from a steampunk themed bowling alley/museum?

It's pretty crazy, but he's been there, done that, and thinks he can handle it. And then he meets the proprietor/curator...Emily Babcock.

Emily grew up in crazy, still lives in it - hey, it's her freaking zip code. So no worries when Robert and his team walk into her bowling alley. The first visitors ever to her museum.

But neither of them is prepared for what happens when they open the door to the past...and the future. With a side trip through Roswell...and a face-to-face meeting with an evil genius/wannabe - who is on his way to becoming evil overlord-of-everything...

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Excerpt:

Time is persistent.

And often cranky.

Ashe had learned these immutable truths during her relatively short stint in the Time Service—okay so almost everything was relative in the Service—but inside the stream, with sparks striking off her protective gear, cranky felt like an understatement. Lurch kept her stomach in place through the turbulent spots—one of the benefits of hosting a nanite—but she was glad they were closing on the base. She slowed, preparing for reintegration into base time, then gave a kick that would land her just off square.

Didn’t like arriving where expected.

She sensed Lurch’s mental sigh over her sideslip. He preferred precision to surprise, though he wouldn’t admit it—or concede the wisdom in retaining a small measure of paranoia.

She softened her knees for the coming jolt against terra firma, but nothing prepared her for a landing on terra that wasn’t firma. She skidded a few feet, even managed to stay upright for several of those feet, before tumbling to a stop against a large tree.

While she deployed a random selection of the billion or so swear words she’d learned from Lurch, he sent repair nanites into areas of her body impacted by the messy landing. When she’d caught her breath, she crawled out from under the tree—not easy with multiple tremors wrenching the terra in several directions at once—and stared up at the multiple, explosive impacts slamming into the protective shields. That explained the tremors, but not the reason for the impacts.

The outpost is under attack.

Really? I hadn’t noticed. When he failed to respond to her completely justified sarcasm, she started to clear her mental throat for round two—outpost? The island on the Kikk Ocean hadn’t been called “outpost” in two, maybe three hundred years. Are you having a senior moment? He was passing his five hundredth Earth year. He didn’t like it when she started adding his age up in Garradian seasons, so she only added those up when he’d seriously annoyed her. And she felt like doing the math, which wasn’t that often, since he declined to assist in that particular process.

We aren’t on the base.

Guess he didn’t like the “senior moment” dig. Well, she didn’t like the implication she’d landed in the wrong time, though she had to concede it was the wrong place. This wasn’t the landing square, or even its close cousin. But, other than the under-attack part, this looked like the base and smelled like the base. I did not miss the mark by several hundred years.

I suspect the mark missed you.

Not helping. No matter what one called it, this island was a fixed point on the planet of Kikk. It’s not like the base had changed that much since its rediscovery—or the many seasons of Garradian time that had passed. It had been timeless before it became the Time Service base. It had even recovered from the battle damage incurred during the conflict with the Dusan five hundred Earth years ago.

Take a closer look.

Overhead, red and gold highlighted the area the shields protected—she frowned, as her brain processed the visual recording. Only the center section of the island appeared to be under attack, which should not be possible.

Ashe started—and quickly stalled—on what to ask. Lurch’s pause was both over long and unusual. In her experience he tended to provide answers before she could think the questions. It wasn’t easy sharing her brain with the venerable nanite and she had to assume it wasn’t easy being in her less-than-venerable head, though he’d never thought it where she could hear it. He’d acquired a lot of tact in the years since he’d achieved sentience. While she didn’t know exactly when it was, she did know it was a tiny fraction of the time behind her, and that she had a ways to go with tact development—and some other stuff.

He tapped into the base’s resources. She felt the connection through him and saw what he saw as he spiked into the tracking screens in the command center—in what had been the command center long before her time. It was a bit like watching a very old news vid, seeing the old style uniforms—the Earth uniforms. Neither the arrangement of ships, nor did their appearance, matched her data-memory of any battle from that time.

They are from Keltinar.

There weren’t any battles with Keltinar. Keltinar was an ally, well sort of, had been for the passing of many seasons. They’d threatened and postured a few times—a stereotypical patriarchal society back then—but in the end made peace. They’d come to this galaxy to solve a resource problem, she recalled, pulling the specifics out of her data memory bank, a female shortage issue because all the guys wanted boy babies. They’d almost taken too long to figure out they required girls to get guys. Time and a trading agreement with an Earth entity called mailorderbrides.com, created just to fill the need, had improved the ratio, then tipped it the other way. Now their world was heavily matriarchal.

They’d found out what the Garradians knew all too well: Earth girls weren’t that easy. She paused, surprised when Lurch failed to follow up on the opening.

The battle is bleeding through a tear in time.

Again, did not know what to ask. It should be impossible, shouldn’t it? Staring at it didn’t help it feel possible when it looked so wrong, but since she was staring at it, it must be possible. She felt Lurch wince. Kind of echoed that wince.

This battle took place a long time ago. In an alternate time line.

He tacked this last on with such obvious reluctance, it suggested he thought she needed to know about a battle that hadn’t happened, but wasn’t happy telling her about it. She could ask him what else he knew, but he already hadn’t told her, so he probably wouldn’t share any more.

You need to move ten meters up island to clear the breach.

No, did not plan to share more. Easy to say she should move, not that easy to do. She longed to jump back into the stream, but what if she got stuck in the alternate time line? Was that possible? No surprise time felt off, the stream out of synch once she got the shock and awe under control enough to notice.

I’m going to have to run for it.

First she’d have to get up off her knees, also easier thought than done. Lurch flowed drones into her muscles and boosted her adrenal function. He also heightened visual acuity, helping her map the best route. She managed upright, found her balance and darted forward.

Are you sure we can pass through the edge of the breach? It was something she should have asked before committing to the run. Lurch’s lack of answer was an answer of sorts. Great.
The edge of the breach shimmered a bit, as if lit by flares of the weapons from the bombardment. Lurch sent another surge through her muscles—trying to increase her physical capabilities as a warning blasted through her mind. She raced toward what could be a wall, while the display inside her head showed a section of the upper shields giving way—the part just above her.

It’s going to be close.

A whistle of something incoming lent wings to her final effort. They were both fully committed as she launched herself at the edge of the breach…and passed through it. Felt the explosion hit against it, but for whatever reason, the wall contained the blast, even though it failed to contain her.

Possibly because the battle belongs in that reality and we don’t.

Ashe rolled several times, bumping against a pair of legs.

Not that much better than a tree.

“Cadet.” The word sounded more sigh than anything.

Council Head Carig had resisted letting her into the service, despite indications women had been wardens at some point ¬either in the past or the future—another one of those relative effects one had to wrap one’s brain around in the Time Service. Not that she wanted to wrap her brain around him. He was a fossil in looks and attitude. And he had a serious hate for her family, even though he was supposed to have left it behind when he became a member of the governing Council.

Of course, she shouldn’t know his name—no one wanted those traversing time to know who they were or when they were—but Lurch never forgot a face or a name.

She scrambled up, grateful to Lurch for erasing the aches and pains yet again. Her protective headgear retracted automatically as she came to attention. A pity he couldn’t remove the signs of the various impacts from her outer person. Carig’s gaze found and paused to note each violation of the uniform code. It didn’t help to know her uniform was silver, shiny, fitted—like some perverse, centuries old Earth science fiction movie creature. It would have horrified the Council had any of them bothered to watch one of those old vids though possibly not enough to alter the uniform design. No surprise that change was slower than time in the Time Service.

“Do I want to know the reason for that rookie arrival?” He sneered down his nose at her, even though they were almost the same height. If he was looking at her chest, he had to be disappointed. Her uniform flattened her chest to just shy of concave.

She opened her mouth, a tart response about the breach making it to the tip of her tongue, before Lurch yanked it back. A good move, since tart could get her kicked out. She might not like the cut of her uniform, but she was proud to have earned the right to wear it. She tried to frame a less tart response about the tear. Lurch yanked that back, too.

He doesn’t know about the tear. He can’t see it.

Actually, she couldn’t see it anymore either. That left her nothing but a pseudo-respectful silence.

“You’re late.”

She wasn’t—and how could she be late when they were out of time’s flow—but one didn’t argue with the Head of the Time Council. Besides, they had worse problems than a tardy cadet. Now that she was back in base time tremors—not weapon’s fire—slammed into the time shields that hid them from the larger universe and protected them from changes. In theory, the shields also enabled them to ensure time’s continued integrity. Ashe hoped they held better than the shields in the time tear.

Do you know what’s happening?

Rather than answer the question, Lurch began to feed her data he could access now that they were free of the breach. She didn’t know everything Lurch could do—a successful hosting was only possible if both sides respected the other’s privacy—but she knew that if he wanted to know something, there was no one within the Council hierarchy who could stop him from finding it out. The data was interesting and disturbing, and it boiled down to one simple conclusion: time was seriously out of whack.

Just in case she hadn’t noticed.

Look at this. Lurch brought the tracker log to her attention.

That can’t be right. No way that many trackers would be overdue all at the same time.
It sounds less threatening than “missing.” Lurch sounded as if he were still searching through data streams. The missing are all top-tier trackers. Some mid-level, too. There are some not yet overdue but if they show, I’ll be surprised.

Lurch, as she well knew, was rarely surprised.

Ashe had only recently left rookie status, so no one knew how good she was at tracking—in large part thanks to Lurch—so it wasn’t a shock she hadn’t been targeted. It’s always better to be underestimated was another family axiom.

It’s not all me, he told her, a touch dryly. You’re a natural.

The rare compliment left her mentally speechless.

Could you try to focus?

Lurch felt about as not happy as Ashe had ever felt him feel before. It was a lot of unhappy. She felt another shock wave hit the perimeter, harder than the last one, but Carig seemed unaware of it. Unclear if he was oblivious or bluffing.

He can’t see or feel time. In all my existence, I’ve never been hosted by someone who processes time the way you do. Who sees time the way you do. Still the base sensors should be detecting something.

She didn’t ask the obvious question, because if he knew he’d tell her unless he didn’t want to tell her, which he wasn’t or couldn’t.

Sometimes you make my circuits hurt.

Sorry.

“Report to the Chamber immediately.” Carig barked the command. Since barking was his usual tone, it was hard to tell if he was worried.

She left Carig, with a half-hearted attempt to hide her relief, turning toward the main building. It was inside what had been the breach, but whatever had caused the problem seemed resolved. She crossed the boundary with no problems. The sky above stayed clear and calm. No more shooting-at-them-ships.

Any ideas? Theories? Wild guesses?

That Lurch hesitated yet again was troubling. Based on known theory, this level of turbulence can have two causes. Someone is messing with time.

The missing trackers appeared to support that thesis. And the other?

Time could be repairing itself. It is…persistent.

I had heard that. Only three million or so times since she entered the Service, but who was counting.

I have experienced time repairing itself. It was…challenging.

Challenging?

And nearly life extinguishing.

Which could also explain the missing trackers, she realized. Ashe knew a lot of ways to express worry verbally, thanks to Lurch, but only one Earth word seemed right for the moment.

Crap.

Indeed.

RUBY DARE by Tianna Xander and Viola Grace

RUBY DARE - Book One in the D.A.R.E Project Series by Tianna Xander and Viola Grace

Born of two dragons but raised in a lab, Ruby has lived a life of quiet regulation, waiting until the project proposed decades earlier can be started. When Dimensional Arrest, Retrieval and Extraction gets underway, her innate ability to jump dimensions puts her on the front lines with her sisters, retrieving people from earth whose presence is tearing their home world apart. Each assignment takes Ruby to another world to retrieve scholars, criminals, researchers, and escapees. The freedom she feels on the new worlds is cruelly taken away when she has to return to earth over and over again.

Meeting one of her own kind is a shock, but his determination to help her gain her freedom is even more of a stunning revelation. He offers her a life without walls, in the sun, and wind in her hair. What dragon could resist?

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Excerpt:

Eiwyn threw the covers back. The rustle of the sheets seemed loud in the quiet of the room. Slowly, she placed her feet on the cold wooden floor and slid out of bed. Draven rolled over, his hand resting on her pillow. Heart pounding, she tiptoed her way to the door. Grabbing the knob, she thanked everything holy that she hadn't latched it when she came to bed.

Draven let out a long snore. His hand moved over her empty pillow as though searching for her. Please don't let him wake up. Eiwyn opened the door a little more than a crack and slipped through. If she woke her husband, he would see to it that she went nowhere. She couldn't let him stop her. She knew he would try. He had put his foot down and she was sneaking under it.

Barefoot, she padded her way down to the room they reserved for opening their portals. Two months ago, she'd had a vision, one she couldn't ignore. If what she had seen was true, the future of the entire universe was at stake. Now was the time to act.

Someone, somewhere, played with forces they didn't understand. One couldn't jump from dimension to dimension willy-nilly without consequences. Her people could, but they were the only exception. They didn't need the help of machines, energy or chemicals to open a dimensional rift. They merely needed the power stored within their bodies since birth. Yet, someone had started to do just that and it was ripping holes in the very fabric of the universe. She had to do something and with her sight, she may be the only person who could.

Entering the room, she closed and locked the door. The thick wood wouldn't keep Draven out, but it would slow him down just enough. Waving her arms nervously, she hummed a soft tune and the air rippled in front of her. Soon, the other side of the room blurred as the transparent rift opened before her.

A loud roar had her looking toward the door with tears in her eyes. It would be years before she would see Draven again. Yet, Eiwyn knew what she must do. It was for the good of all. The entire universe depended on her ability to escape her home and jump to the correct world. Eiwyn blew a kiss toward the door. Tears filled her eyes as she heard the pounding of her husband's feet upon the wooden floor. "I'll be back, my love…eventually."

She stepped through the rift confident that the energy would take the path of least resistance directly to the world she needed to visit. One jump, one world, a few decades and with luck, all would soon be put right.

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TANGLED IN TIME by Pauline Baird Jones

TANGLED IN TIME by Pauline Baird Jones

Colonel Carey (from The Key and Girl Gone Nova) takes a test "flight" through the Garradian time-space portal, but an unexpected impact lands him somewhere and some when. As he attempts to get to Area 51, he crosses paths with Miss Olivia Carstairs, who could be Mary Poppins' twin sister. Or maybe her cousin. Olivia's got a transmogrification machine powered by steam and a mouth he'd like to kiss like it was his job. Can he convince her to join forces before she shoots him with her derringer?

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Excerpt:

Braedon Carey, Col. USAF, was used to waking up in strange places.

He wasn't used to waking up nose-to-beak with a buzzard.

He stared at the buzzard. The buzzard stared at him.

It dawned on him he had a buzzard on his chest.

He yelled. He may have waved his arms at it as he scrambled to his feet. With an air of offended dignity, it retreated to a chunk of rock. Carey retreated, too, and did an SA--situational awareness--assessment. It didn't take long.

He knew where he was supposed to be and this wasn't it.

He'd flown over, driven through, and trained in and around, Area 51. He knew it as well as he knew his Dauntless. This is what he got for playing test pilot without a ship. No surprise it had turned into a Charlie Foxtrot right off the launch pad--or in this case, right out of the Garradian portal. At least the pucker factor was low with that buzzard gone from his chest. He'd been fine when he left the Kikk Outpost, but now his ribs hurt, a sign he'd bent them on something inside the wormhole. Was that possible? He shifted gingerly. His ribs said it was. His brain was neutral on any subject that involved physics--not that he knew this was a physics problem. His skill set involved pointing, shooting and blowing things up. Until this moment, he'd also have said he was good at getting from point A to point B, but he hadn't been driving. The doc and her geek team had been on the stick for this trip.

He picked up his cap and slapped it against his leg before settling it on his head. He pulled out his GPS, but it couldn't get a signal. If the GPS wasn't working, then the SAT phone probably wouldn't either, but he tried it anyway. He gave it a shake and tried it again. Something was gooned up. Had he bent his tech the same time he bent his ribs? The tech didn't look bent. He shook both. Didn't sound bent. He tried them again, just to be sure. Still no joy.

He extracted his compass next. It found a pole, but it had found a pole on Kikk. Some tech had no loyalty to their home planet. He eased the bill of his cap up some and did a slow circle, taking care not to make eye contact with the buzzard. Could the doc have dropped him on the wrong planet? She'd seemed to know what she was doing, while admitting she might not, he recalled now. Kind of like those drug commercials. This will work great unless something goes wrong, which it might. Could the misfire goon up his retrieval? The doc had been confident while managing to not be confident about that part, too.

He caught the buzzard looking at him like he was a buffet opening soon. It took flight, rising in a series of slow circles that kept him at the center, so Carey wouldn't get to thinking he'd lost interest. With that red noggin and turkey-like build, it could be a turkey vulture. If he recognized the buzzard, maybe he'd recognize something else. There'd been a few years in there, until Carey got too cool to go tripping with his old man, where they'd visited every national and state park within driving distance. He'd seen a serious chunk of the USA on those road trips. Could this be one of those chunks? He gave the chunk his undivided attention.

Looked like he'd landed in a long valley, a cut between two offset peaks. The incline was brutal going up and down. Toward what could be the west, was a long desert plain, and rising from it, a set of peaks that looked familiar. Was it hopeful thinking? Two peaks. Two ears...mule ears? They looked kinda like mule ears. Mule Ears Peak. He'd seen them before, but where? He needed to get higher. Couldn't see crap in this valley. Up always improved SA. His ribs grumbled dissent.

He could make his ribs happy, sit tight until his extraction--if it came. Not the place he'd have picked, but he had water and energy bars for a few days. The buzzard's shadow passed over him. On the other hand, maybe he ought to keep moving. Ribs didn't feel broken--he'd know--so they could man up. Bad idea to give a buzzard false hope.

Sun rode low in the east. A bit of a chill in the air. Based on the ground cover, he'd guess it was early spring. He was supposed to have arrived in late fall and in another state--not that he was complaining, because who would he complain to? The buzzard that wanted to eat him?

He started up, using the scrub as handholds to keep from taking an involuntary down turn, while his ribs groused at him. He'd spent too much time in space, he decided. He shouldn't be puffing this hard. Couldn't even blame it on the altitude. This mountain wasn't any higher than Area 51. About one hundred yards shy of the peak, he topped a slight rise and the ground leveled out enough to let him catch his breath. He didn't sink to his knees. He had his pride--and that buzzard was still stalking him. With his eyes on the ridge line, he almost didn't notice the bogey.

When he did--he blinked--it couldn't be for real. He rubbed his eyes--it had to be a mirage--but it didn't go away. It didn't waver around the edges either. He looked both directions, half expecting a camera crew to pop out from behind a rock, but that was even crazier than the big ass bogey. He eased in for a closer look. Kind of oblong in shape and metallic in appearance, it sat close to the mountain wall on the only bit of semi-flat real estate around. It looked like a mutation of a car and an upside down train, with a little rocket thrown in just for fun. An inverted fan of dark metal covered the area where a view port or window shield should be. Or eyes. It kind of looked like it should have eyes.

The wheels on the mongrel machine were as whacked as the whole of it. Looked like old stage coach wheels, but metal and black. There was no road for it to drive up, even if the wheels touched the ground, which they didn't. Whoever built this bad boy had a great sense of humor or his elevator didn't go all the way to the top.

He approached with caution, half expecting it to dissolve when he touched it, but it didn't. It felt cooler to the touch than he'd expected, though he wasn't sure why he expected anything. Up close, the surface was black and appeared to be made from sheets of metal fastened together with rivets. In addition to the wheels it had a series of fins along the side and front. He touched one and it moved, like they retracted and extended. He tugged one until it stopped. They extended pretty far, but fifty of them couldn't put this hunk of junk in the air. Might improve the aerodynamics, but that was another physics problem. Still didn't do those. No sign of windows or openings down the left side, though he did find something that could be vents. On the right side of the bogey, an open hatch door had three fancy looking steps hanging off the edge.

It looked like--a cartoon version of a Jules Verne space ship or submarine, which seemed to support the mirage theory. Only it refused to fade like a good, big mirage.

It hadn't crashed here. There were no impact indicators. Could've been built there, he supposed, but how had it been built in a place with no roads or signs of human intrusion? And why? Besides, the metal wasn't corroded or aged and there was very little grit on the surface. It didn't look dug in, more like it had recently arrived. Only thing breaking ground around it was his footprints.

And someone else's

It shouldn't be a shock. He had noted the opening in the side. But it still gave him a jolt to see them. Instinct had him reaching for his side arm, but the sound of a gun cocking off to his right changed his mind. He raised both arms, taking it non-threatening slow, and turned toward the sound. His jaw dropped.

It was Mary Poppins' twin sister, holding an umbrella and a gun.

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THE MUSIC SEED by Scott Benjamin

THE MUSIC SEED by Scott Benjamin

A young, remarkably musically talented, 14 year old girl dying of cancer, her father, a special government agent, a strange visitor from another planet simply calling himself the Music Man and the four powerful beings who accompany him converge on Earth to thwart a pending attack in our future.

But can they do it in time?
Who can be trusted?
Will the young girl realize her destiny in time before she dies?
What will happen to Earth if she fails?
Why is all this related to only music?
What did a fifth airplane on 9/11 have to do with the young girl?
The Music Man has been sent here to Earth by four special beings. But why was he sent here and what does he know?
How can a 14-year-old girl save our planet?
What role does music play in this whole wild scenario?
What does the Music Man really know about planet Earth?

The Music Man and the powerful beings have deduced that planet Earth, on its current path of technology, has not even a faint chance of surviving the coming of the Mentones in the year 2683. The Mentones are an extremely advanced race of strange beings with an effective, yet sick way of harvesting planets to continue their species.

But the Music Man’s once simple mission becomes extremely complicated. The government blames the Music Man for misfortunes around the planet. The Mentones discover the Earth seed and set out to destroy it. Another powerful being, hidden eons ago, sides with the evil race of Mentones, as the Earth seed lies dying in a hospital. A genius inventor, a radical doctor and a NASA video surveillance specialist all become part of the now complex countdown.

So with the Music Man conducting a new evolution of music, a new technology using sound covering all aspects of the development and advancement of the human race, a chance to survive we may have. We just have to listen to the new music. We just have to listen to him. And we just have a little over 677 years to become prepared for the inevitable.

The only hitch is that in order to succeed, we must take the right path now.

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Excerpt:

Captain Blankenship lay unconscious as he was now passed out from loss of blood. The small red pool of blood broadened as the plane made its last turns. The hijackers said nothing. In fact, at this point no one said anything.

The F-18s were quickly narrowing the gap, racing closer to their target.

“Andrews Air Force Base, this is Nighthawk Flight 4, is suspect traffic approximately forty miles northwest of Dulles, southeast bound?”

Andrews Air Force Base answered, “Affirmative.”

“Nighthawk 4, descending to one thousand feet, heading 320 to intercept.”

The F-18’s screamed on with deafening roar.

“Andrews, this is Nighthawk 4—we have suspect traffic at ten o’clock and thirty-five miles. We are closing in quickly.”

“Roger, Nighthawk 4.”

***

Gail Damson and Bill Cramer helplessly looked at each other, and then they looked away. Bill was a mess at this point. He knew he was going to die.

My fear of flying, he sadly thought, and this is now my reward.

Gail tried to comfort him with words and a forced smile, but the hijackers threatened her once again. She closed up.

Several passengers began sobbing quietly, and the plane was flying way too low. The aircraft made its final banking right turn and was now well below seven hundred fifty feet, heading directly towards its planned target, Bethesda Naval Hospital. The plane, now bouncing about heavily, was flying barely above the shorter buildings and taller trees as it raced across the hopeless setting. It would hit the mark in less than sixty seconds. There was nothing anyone could do now but pray. Bill Cramer was praying, too. Even if they were going to crash, he wished that it would end soon. The strenuous emotions were much too overwhelming for him. He prayed for his family.

The hijackers insanely held tight the controls of the doomed plane, forcing it towards the hospital. Their eyes were fixated outward, yet looking at nothing. They prayed over and over, thanking their God for the events now in their sight. The weapon’s speed was nearly five hundred fifty miles per hour. The hospital was only two miles away at present, in clear view. There was now only twelve seconds until impact. But no one knew that, except for the hijackers, though co-pilot Stewart Farmer knew something. He could feel the plane descending for quite a while now. The altimeter alarms were going off. He also thought the end was near, as he could hear the hijackers repeat what appeared to be a prayer in their native language over and over. Passenger Bill Cramer had closed his eyes, and his mind had frozen long ago. He was far beyond being afraid. His brain was now basically shut down. He was ungraciously left with only a stuck picture of his family etched into his wasted, tormented mind. Flight attendant Gail Damson had also given up. She looked like a discarded, lifeless doll left on a barren floor. But no one expected what was to happen next. And it would happen very quickly.

The seconds ticked away.

The seed will be protected.

The huge black creature, stepping inside the streaking aircraft from its own created dimension, materialized out of nowhere toward the front of the plane by the cockpit. Its large head, perched on its massive frame, brushed against and partially through the short cabin ceiling of the condemned aircraft as it stood ready to confront its target. The bizarre black creature knew exactly what it had to do and had little time to do it. It had to find the cause of this particular problem instantly and handle that, something it knew very well how to do; circumstances the creature had absolutely no tolerance for. The timeless Being, armed with innumerable capabilities created eons ago, assessed the current situation. Particle-beam technology, dark-matter infusion, propagation of antimatter into targets, and advanced electromagnetic pulse weapons were even long ago ancient history for this particular Being.

But today that would be all it really required.

The large dark Being, sensing a strange aberration of unacceptable vibrations coming from only four humans, turned its large head quickly to one side and then the other and experienced the source: the two hijackers in the rear cabin of the plane and the two in the cockpit. An immediate decision was made to remedy the problem. Though no one would see it, the enormous creature instantly created and expelled from its essence a highly concentrated, pulsating low frequency beam. Delivered via a carrier wave a hundred times lower than the human ear can hear, it left the strange creature at the speed of sound. The quivering shock wave fiercely locked onto the two hijackers in the back of the plane like a lion’s jaw and incapacitated them. Instantly near death, they instinctively tried to move one last time but couldn’t. The concentrated beam continued to hold them, frozen in complete agony, making them drop their cheap weapons. The beam created by the creature produces the same effect on a human body as if thousands of volts produced by an electric chair had just grabbed the victim, arching their body upright and forward in excruciating pain, thus leaving the target wasted.

Two seconds had now passed.

The Being then turned toward the cockpit and hit the two other targeted hijackers flying the plane with another beam of concentrated frequency waves, also rendering them useless. The nearly demised hijackers now found themselves slumped frozen over the controls of the large aircraft with the terrible beam holding them fast—like a stun gun, but a hundred times worse. Their unmoving eyes gathered their last visions before they left.

The targets have now been incapacitated, the strange creature thought. Yet they have no apparent use anywhere, it fatefully decided for them.

Then, pausing for a brief moment, seeming to make another rational decision, the Being raised its large right hand, which ejected a blinding flash of controlled violet light hitting only the four hijackers simultaneously. These new beams of light, carrying trillions of years of extremely advanced antimatter particle-beam technology, dislodged and dissipated all spinning atomic and subatomic particles in the hijackers’ bodies. The four hijackers never saw what hit them. Suddenly and instantly vaporized, they no longer existed. No one would ever see them again.

Five seconds had now passed.

The plane was now flying at only a hundred feet and would hit its target in fewer than six seconds. The creature then moved back away from the cockpit. It paused and looked around the interior of the plane and its occupants for a second, as if sizing it up. Then it calmly lifted its large hand once again, creating a brilliant flash of green and blue light that now engulfed the entire plane. These final rays of light held a technological secret the best Earth scientists would spend many thousands of years trying to duplicate. The bright flash of light caused the doomed airplane to vanish for a split second. Caught, then released from the temporary quarters of the Being’s own dimension, the Boeing 757 jet, with all of its passengers intact, reappeared eighty-five miles away from where it was a second ago and was now sitting safely on a military runway.

“This is Nighthawk 4, lost radar on possible traffic. It must be down! But Andrews, we don’t see any signs of an aircraft going down!”

“Roger, Nighthawk 4,” Andrews replied. “We have lost radar on suspect traffic. We confirm it must have gone down! Wait! We have a hit on Trans 394! What the hell! We have a hit at Quantico! That’s impossible! What the hell is going on here? It couldn’t have…”

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