I can see more clearly than ever that God truly does work all things for good for those who truly seek him (or maybe in my case, those who can’t avoid him). It is not a happy thought, truly, but a staying one. It is a reality that will guide me through the ups and downs and all arounds this life has to offer. In accordance with this, I fail to see the irrelevance of fatherly love to redemption, especially since I live in a world where such humanly love seems to have failed us.
Someone once told me that God revealed himself as the father, rather than the mother, to show there was nothing natural about his love. It is all supernatural, superseding this world and the limits of this life. In fact, I do believe that this force, this love, is the very thing that will carry you to your final home.
In the believer’s journey, home is our final destination. We need to keep the focus on that more than we might think. The Bible’s story is all about that: God does what it takes to get his family home. My stories, on the other hand, are more on the other side of the relationship DNA; we are called to head out for home, seeking out truth and reaching out in love, despite pain, despite joy, despite all things.
I hope that you have enjoyed this series. I have not always enjoyed writing it, but it is a part of my life I could never, would never, separate from my soul or my self.
My thanks continually goes it to Jennifer, for her patience in editing my work, and for being nice about correcting me, even when I insist on getting it wrong. I am also indebted to Amy, for her friendship first and her work second. Such beauty can only come from a beautiful soul like yours.
Other names will top my list. My mother, Ryan, and my family; but most of all, I need to thank Sam. Ever since high school, I have smuggled you into my imaginary audience, and I have never let you leave. I am a fallen, imperfect, sputtering soul, always second-guessing myself (or trying not to), and this book has taught me that all over again. It is my second greatest wish to meet you again one day (I suspect you know the first).
Lastly, I need to thank you, beloved reader. While I do not have another book in this series planned, I do hope to see you again in my other work (read on for a sample from The Heights of Perdition, the first book in a new series I’m working on).
I write with God, but I write for myself, and now for you. As ever, I will continue to trust him to do what he thinks is good.
Until We Meet Again in Paradise,
C. S. Johnson
AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
EDITOR
Jennifer C. Sell
Jennifer Clark Sell is a professional book editor and proofreader. She works from her home in Southern California. With her years of professional and personal experience, she offers several quality packages for authors. Find her at https://www.facebook.com/JenniferSellEditingService.
Photo Credit: Savannah Sell
AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
COVER ILLUSTRATOR
Amalia Chitulescu
Amalia Iuliana Chitulescu is a digital artist from Campina, Romania. Raised in a small town, this self-taught artist has a technique which is delineated by the contrast between obscurity and enlightenment, using dark elements in a dreamy world. Her areas of expertise include the use of theatrical concepts to create a macabre and surrealistic world that still maintains a highly recognizable attachment to reality. Bridging a diaphanous environment with light elements, an eerie view, she creates a dream world of dark beauty, done with a blend of photography and digital painting. Find her at https://www.facebook.com/Amalia.Chitulescu.Digital.Art
Photo Credit: Amalia Chitulescu
SAMPLE READING
Chapter 1from
THE HEIGHTS
OF
PERDITION
BOOK ONE OF THE DIVINE SPACE PIRATES
♦♦♦♦
C. S. Johnson
THE STARLIGHT CHRONICLES
♦1♦
At just the right angle, the dark blue and white orb, suspended in a sea of invisible shadows, held in place by a faith as impossible to believe in as it was to see, fit nicely between his fingers. Outside his window, Earth looked small and fragile, seemingly innocent, and mostly harmless. A hollowness slipped between his thumb and forefinger as he squashed them together, crushing the blueberry-sized circle.
Amused by the irony of the forced perspective before him, a rare, genuine smile formed on Exton Shepherd’s face.
It was, he decided, almost a shame no one else was around to witness such an unusual event. He smooshed his fingers together, imagining the world completely decimated into dust.
But then, he recalled, he’d given plenty of smiles earlier, as all the hubbub went on about the ship. Surely the crew, his hodgepodge of adopted family and coworkers, would have been satisfied with those, even though they were inauthentic at best and mocking at worst.
Duty sometimes demanded playing happy. Exton knew that, and he followed it, even in instances he loathed.
Like today.
Between the thirteenth and fifteenth sunrises of his day, he’d watched the only other person he truly cared for in all the world—no, he mentally corrected himself, in all the universe—pledge her love, heart, and life to another man.
It was heartbreaking on some levels, but strangely freeing, too.
The wedding had been quaint, warm, and sweet. Its simplicity suggested nothing of its socially taxing nature.
Exton had no regrets about ducking out as soon as the bride and groom finished their vows and the Ecclesia had pronounced them husband and wife.
Once he had successfully slipped out of sight, Exton proceeded to the Captain’s Lounge, the small room he’d claimed as his the day after launching the Perdition into space. There was little to be said of the room’s comfort; it was more like a tall elevator shaft than a room, empty of everything but the coldness of space and a small window hidden up near the far end. More than once, Exton wondered if he’d found a kind of kinship with it; hollow and bleak, with a tiny view looking out toward the fleeing horizon.
It was there, on a window seat built into the windowpane, where Exton tucked his legs under his chin and entered into his own world of privacy, where he was free to be who he wanted, even if it was for only a moment.
As captain of the ship, he didn’t want his crew to see him in one of his more melancholy moods.
His frown returned when he opened his fingers again, only to see Earth was still hanging in space before him, its silence mocking and spiteful. Rearranging his hand, he made it seem like he was carrying the earth in the palm. Fleetingly, he toyed with the idea of pretending to toss the small pearl away into the dark recesses of space, into an imaginary hell.
But he knew that would not work.
Exton knew two things with startling clarity and unshakable certainty: The first was that hell was real, and the second was that it was his home.
“Having fun?” a voice asked from below him.
“Huh?” Exton jerked around in surprise, nearly falling off the window ledge. “Come on, Emery, don’t do that,” he groaned, while the young woman dressed all in white only laughed. His balance, already compromised by the pull of the starship’s gravity, faltered again as Exton tried to adjust himself. “You know I don’t like it when people interrupt me, especially when I’m here.”
“But it’s my wedding day,” Emery insisted. “And I’d like to have a dance with the ship’s captain before the night shift starts. Come on, we’re up first.”
Exton gave up on staying by the window and jumped down as gracefully as he could. “All the shifts up here are technically the night shift,” he grumbled.
“Some would say we live in perpetual day up here on the Perdition,” Emery offered, her voice gentle even as she maintained her stance. “Sunrise and sunset are only ninety-two minutes apart for us now, when we’re this close to Earth.”
“Sunrises and sunsets do not make day and night up here,” Exton told her, touching his forehead.
Emery reached out and took his hand, be
fore she placed it over his heart. “I think your problem is too much night in here, not out there.” She turned her attention back to the window, where six inches of steel-grade glass separated them from the vacuum of space.
Exton followed her gaze, wondering if she was looking for any sign of familiarity from their old home. He watched as the end of the ocean braced itself against the shore of the Old Republic; he felt his memory pull him in, and he could see it clearly inside his mind.
The chill of the old mountains where he would go work and play with his father, the spray of the salt water on his transport module, the warmth of his mother’s arms as she welcomed him home from school—all of it embraced him, surrounding him and penetrating into the deep recesses of his heart.
And then there was pain, and then it was gone.
Exton shook his head. “I know it seems like a long time has passed, but it’s time to cause the URS some trouble. It’s almost the anniversary, you know.”
“I know,” she replied. A sudden sadness appeared in her gaze, and Exton wondered if she had been reminiscing as well.
Pushing aside his grief, he straightened his shoulders. “I have a plan that will really make them sorry this year, Em.”
“I know you’re a man of your word,” Emery replied, “but I’m not sure it will be enough to convince them to give us what we want.”
“They already cannot give us what we want.” Exton shrugged. “Our game was never for power. It was for meaning.”
“It’s not a game, Exton.”
“I know it’s not!” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emery flinch. “I know it’s not,” he repeated carefully, reverting to his usual, detached tone. “It’s not our fault that it became a quest for survival, Emery. I know that even more than you do.”
“If it’s survival you want,” Emery scoffed, “there’s no point in selling your soul in the process.”
Before Exton could assure Emery he had no soul left that was worth saving, let alone selling, he stopped. Happy times, he reminded himself.
Emery’s wedding was a special occasion, one that had excited her for the past several months, offering a glimmer of hope on a horizon of gloom and turmoil. Exton was determined not to let the past rob him—or her—of anything else, so long as it was in his power. “You’re right,” he acquiesced, momentarily giving in.
Emery smiled brightly, and Exton suddenly had a hard time believing she was only two years younger than he was. At twenty-two, she seemed much more innocent than the figure that gazed back at him when he looked in the mirror.
He slipped his hand out from under hers, before taking and squeezing it. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to have the first dance with your new husband?”
“Tyler is my heart’s desire,” Emery told him firmly, “but you will always be my hero.”
Exton grimaced. He knew he was no hero. “It would be a shame to waste your time with me.”
“Time with you is not a waste.”
“Did Tyler approve of changing up the dancing order? The man might be in love, but there’s no need to make him prove to be the fool.”
“Hey, Tyler’s your commander, and your best friend,” Emery objected. “You know he’s not a fool.”
“Not where it concerns you. He would be smart to correct that, and I have been telling him since he received approval from the Ecclesia to start courting you,” Exton told her. He gave her a devious look. “Should I make him walk the plank?”
Emery frowned and searched the darkened shadows of his face. “That’s not funny, Exton.”
“I know.”
They walked in silence for a few moments before Exton spoke once more. “I don’t want to dance. No offense, Em.”
“Traditionally, it was the daughter’s duty to dance with her father, first.” Emery smiled. “But that’s more of a cultural thing I’ve read about from the Old Republic.”
“Yes, I remember that,” Exton agreed. “Ironic, how the Revolutionary States would be appalled by it now.”
Of course, he recalled, even the idea of using the term “father” might have some of the more militant protestors up in arms, as the beloved Daddy Dictator of the URS, Grant Osgood, did not encourage familial relationships, unless such feelings were directed toward government.
“If the URS is against it, you should be more inclined to appease me, then,” Emery contended.
There was a breath of silence and stillness before Exton responded. “I’m not our father,” he scoffed.
“You’re more like him than you might wish.”
As Exton scowled at her, Emery pointed her finger at him accusingly. “See? You even have the same exasperated look he used to get when he was frustrated.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Exton shrugged, scratching his head. He frowned as he realized it had been some time since he’d gotten a haircut. His father used to do the same thing, especially when he was planning his next engineering endeavor. Exton suddenly wondered if it was his own scruffy locks that had been making him shrink back from mirrors of late.
He missed his father too much to want to see him staring out of the mirror from the other side of the grave.
Emery chuckled again, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Well, I know at least one trait you share with him. He had a hard time telling me no to anything I wanted, if memory serves.”
“You look too much like Mom for me to say no,” Exton admitted. “I’m sure he had the same problem, but that’s one I’m more willing to share with him.”
With her dark brown hair, blue-green eyes, and petite form, Emery was the living memory of their mother. She even had the same dimple hovering above the left corner of her lips, a trait Exton knew was the extent of their common features. Their father’s blue eyes, as clear and sharp as ice, had passed to him, along with his height, broad shoulders, and black hair.
“He always did want me to follow in his footsteps,” Exton muttered as they headed out of the Captain’s Lounge. “But I’m not sure he would have enjoyed the ghost of Captain Chainsword, the infamous space lumberjack pirate.”
“I don’t think he would have liked it, given how much he derided you for enjoying those fantasy adventures you used to read.”
“It seemed fitting at the time, to create a new role for him to play, along with the rest of us.”
“I suppose.” Emery shrugged. “But Papa was a brilliant engineer, same as you, and a good man. I’m not sure he would have liked your emphasis on piracy and power.”
“For the most part, I think you are right,” Exton agreed. “But he was too idealistic by far. That was what got him killed.” He looked out a nearby window, where, even as he could no longer see Earth, he still felt the pull of its shadow.
“In hindsight, you would prove to be correct on that point.”
“That is why I will not make the same mistake as he did. While Paradise is out of reach, Perdition will do what it can to ensure a better life for us.”
“And others, too,” Emery added proudly.
“Maybe.” Exton shrugged. “I only have a duty to you, and you’re technically Tyler’s problem now. Anyone else is just extra.”
“Your duty to me hasn’t ended.”
Exton rolled his eyes. “I’m going to dance with you, aren’t I? What else is there?”
“Your duty to me might include a dance tonight, but I wish for you to find someone you would love as I love Tyler.” She smiled. “Someone you can spend your life trying to make happy.”
“Even as life makes me miserable?”
Emery frowned and sighed. “I don’t know why you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it impossible for yourself to be happy.”
“Happiness is fleeting, remember?” Exton rolled his eyes. “Even the leaders of the Ecclesia would agree with me there.”
“They don’t often agree with you, especially when it comes to your mandates,” Emery concurred. “The only reason they would on this acco
unt is because the phrasing is vague enough to seem to agree on the meaning.” She narrowed her gaze. “And the practice.”
Exton wrinkled his nose. “We’ve been up here for too long if you know me so well.”
“I still prefer this to when we were off at different universities, working on our studies,” Emery admitted with a thoughtful smile. “But as for the argument, you don’t seem to agree with the Ecclesia a whole lot, either. You don’t share most of their beliefs. I find it hard to believe that you would try to garner support from among their teachings.”
“Their teachings on wisdom and life, and how it should be, I respect. But it’s different when you’re trying to manage a pirate starship and ruin an empire.”
“Not to mention when you insist so stubbornly on remaining miserable.”
“I am going back to your wedding celebration, aren’t I?” Exton groaned. “Please don’t push it, Em. You know how I feel. If God would grant your wish for me, if he wanted so much for me to be ‘happy,’ he could have let me ‘fall in love’ with someone on the Perdition, like you and Tyler. But even when we send our smaller ships down to Earth for supplies, see Aunt Patty, or attack the URS, there’s no one there for me. There are only people there who want the protection Perdition can offer to political dissents or refugees such as themselves.”
After a moment of thought, he added, “Besides, my job is to protect and lead aboard the spaceship. The last thing I need is to be led around by the whims of a woman.”
“There’s no need to make it sound so deplorable,” Emery scoffed, arching an eyebrow at him. “Do you honestly think dealing with the moods of a man are any easier?”
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