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Author Notes
After spending the last 13 days of January 2018 writing like a man possessed, I wrapped up a rough, rough, rough 60,000 word draft of Invasion of the Frorees, Book 1 in my new Sci-Fi series. I then promptly moved onto Book 2, Escape of the Glitter Princess, completing both rough drafts in about five weeks.
I then moved on to the book you’re now holding in your hands, the short-story prequel, or origin story, for one Dom Wagner.
My wife says that I’m writing for myself when I write Dom. I disagree. Dom is much cooler, much more suave, and much quicker thinking on his feet than I’ll ever be.
It was fun going back in time with him, figuring out how he became what he is in the later books in the series.
For more on what happens to future Dom, turn the page…
Sneak Peak - Invasion of the Frorees
Mission 1 of the SPOOK & GOON Space Adventure Series
Prologue
Earth, New York, April 30, 1975
WXXX Radio DJ Big D couldn’t believe what he was reading. Sprawled back in a large leather chair while the city jammed out to The Ballroom Blitz, he held a Newsweek article about climate change. When he read that scientists were predicting a new Ice Age, he almost knocked over his Fanta. He thought it to be bogus, but couldn’t tear his eyes away. He thought about how much he hated slogging through the ice and snow during the New York winters, much less being in an Ice Age. But then again, he’d be dead anyway, so what did it matter?
The track ended and he went back on the air.
“Did you hear? Scientists predict that the Earth will enter a new Ice Age. That’s right, like the evil Ice Age of 10,000 years ago. As in ice covering the entire planet. As in we will freeze our butts off. As in unless you’re a polar bear, we will become extinct. Can you believe it? Better get out your snow shovels and parkas, ladies and gentlemen. It’s gonna be a cold ride.”
He ended his diatribe with a sniff and dropped That’s The Way of The World by Earth, Wind, and Fire.
As DJ Big D’s radio transmission traveled out of the radio station, into the atmosphere, past the Earth and deep into space. The Aliens, the first true original race, the makers of humans and all others, listened. They always watched and listened.
In the vast void of space, they weren’t the only ones.
* * *
Chapter 1
Sol System, May 20, 2035
A massive Cambridge-class cruiser pulled out of a warp jump near the edge of the Sol system, just past the Kepler belt. As its Commander and crew assessed the damage from the jump, the ship remained stationary. A few spots in the hull didn’t make it through, having morphed and melded under the crushing pressure and speed of the jump. It was in desperate need of repair.
An aging ship that had seen better days, the cruiser fired up its engines and blasted out of the Kepler belt. A mysterious sprawling and blinding white trail of light followed behind it. The cruiser and its white trail disappeared into the void and headed toward a tiny distant sun.
* * *
Plutonian Outpost #9
Lieutenant Rick Adamson settled into his chair with a steaming bowl of chili, amped for another shift of mindless space watching. He’d volunteered for this mission six months ago as a way to clear his head and figure out what the heck he was doing with his life. He thought a solo mission would be the perfect antidote for the mess he’d gotten himself into with some exceptionally ruthless and unpleasant card sharks on Mars. He never realized how much time he’d have to himself to ponder his mistakes, all alone on a tin can at the edge of the solar system.
* * *
Earth, Grace Bay, Turks and Caicos Islands
The Hobie Wave sped along the water, hull flying, crossing Grace Bay at a furious pace. Leaning back barely above the waterline, SPOOK Agent Dom Wagner was trying everything he had to get as much speed as he could to impress the blonde hottie on the beach. He ignored the fact that the Hobie was never designed to be a racing Cat. He trimmed the sail ever so slightly and tried to find that edge, that one limit just this side of recklessly tipping the Cat over.
The hot late afternoon sun beat down on his face. It felt good. He’d arrived at the resort an hour earlier for a well-earned month of sun, surf, sand, and shenanigans. As soon as he hit his club room, he’d turned off his comm stat and changed into his Dragon Speedo shorts, rushing to get out on the water before the sports crew closed up for the day.
He’d been waiting for this moment for six months. It had been a long and wild ride on the job, and he was rapidly losing his tan. Being stuck in outer space, he had no way to keep the freshly sunned look as none of the ships had tanning beds. He would need to speak to someone about that. But for now, he soaked it in. He needed the real thing on the real planet Earth, anyway.
* * *
Plutonian Outpost #9
The warning lights on Lt. Adamson’s comm panel flashed rapidly in succession. Something in the outer sector tripped them, but he was too busy downing his bowl of chili to notice or care.
“Stupid asteroids,” he muttered to himself as he switched on the comm viewer for a closer look. “Holy shit!” he said to himself. “That’s no asteroid; that’s a ship!” He dropped the bowl in his lap, hot chili oozing down his legs and making a mess of his flight suit.
He switched to Cam 2, Cam 3, and Cam 4. All showed various views of the approaching ship. It looked vaguely familiar, like an older model he’d seen in the history books. He never expected to see anything like it for real, especially not way out here on the edge of the solar system. It was like a ghost ship from beyond the stars.
He checked his comm stat module, scrolling to find any details of the ship. He had to figure out what it was and why it was here. There was a protocol for this type of incident written in his training manual, but he never bothered to pay any attention to it once he got shipped way out there. Nothing ever happened out there, save a few stray asteroids.
He consulted the manual, staring at the panic button and debating on whether to make the call to his superiors. Protocol stated that Lt. Adamson was required to report into the Martian Outpost within two minutes of this type of incident. “Shit, it had been five,” he thought to himself. They’d need to know ASAP, iceberg right ahead. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night.
* * *
Earth, Grace Bay, Turks and Caicos Islands
Dom crested the wave for a perfect landing onshore. He hopped off and released the main sheet, waiting for the blonde hottie from the watersports’ team to help him pull the boat ashore. His was the last boat out for the day, so Dom dragged it mostly all the way up by himself before she could get there. She helped pull the Hobie to its resting ground the last few feet while Dom took a closer look at who he’d be flirting with for the next month.
* * *
Martian Outpost #4
Captain Steven Troy of Martian Outpost #4 roused from a nap at his desk. He’d dreamt that a ship was pulling into the solar system, shooting up the place from beyond. After hearing Lt. Adamson’s distress call, maybe it wasn’t just a dream.
* * *
Earth, Grace Bay, Turks and Caicos Islands
Dom hurried to clean himself up for White Night, the best party of the week at the resort. It was Friday night, and he was up for some fun. Looking in the mirror after six months in space, he didn’t seem too worse for the wear. At 36, he stood 6’1” with dark brown spiky hair, a chiseled face with deep blue eyes and a muscular build, meticulously shown off in a white linen suit with pocket square. The pocket square was key. The ladies went nuts for it. But that’s not all they went nuts for. Dom fl
ashed a dazzling smile at himself, one he knew would always get him what he wants.
As he walked over from Building A to the lobby, the smell from the bar wafted through the warm, humid night air. After 50 years and countless recent Cat 6s, they’d never been able to wash away that smell. Like Bourbon Street the morning after Mardi Gras, the island heat rotted the alcohol into a comforting funk. He knew he was home.
He thought back to his first trip years ago. After dozens of missions traveling the outer solar system, the heat of Earth’s mid-July sun seared his skin. He had never seen sand so white, sky so blue, water so clear. The beach was much wider then, before the effects of rising oceans changed it to a welcoming sliver of sand. But the water was still the same, a vivid turquoise, inviting and relaxing.
He planned on spending a month, maybe more, settling into the barracks on the beach with a clear view of the ocean from his balcony. The room was spartan, but he rarely spent much time there except for his late night festivities. He’d wake up at 0730, rouse whatever girl he’d met the night before, secure the ultimate cabana and get on with his beach time. After countless hours spent in the deep black of space, his body craved the sun, salt, and sand.
* * *
So, what do you think so far? If you dig it, join my Sci-Fi Fiction Insider’s Group. You’ll receive advance notice of when Invasion of the Frorees is launched.
Also by Chad V. Holtkamp
The SPOOK & GOON Space Adventure Series
Domination of the SPOOKS
Invasion of the Frorees
Escape of the Glitter Princess
Attack of the Mutant Miners
Visit chadvholtkamp.com to stay in the know.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to RE Vance and Michael Lacey at Self-Publishing School’s Fundamentals of Fiction group. Without them, I’d still be kicking this crazy idea around in my head. Thanks for giving me that boost to get all of them written.
To Chris Fox, whose YouTube videos clued me in on knuckling down and doing daily writing sprints. I still have monthly reminders set on my iPhone calendar.
And to Michael Anderle, Barry J. Hutchison, Wayne Stinnett, and Hugh Howey for the fun adventures your books have taken me on over the last six months.
And to my wife, Carrie, my biggest cheerleader and partner in sun, surf, and sand. Thanks for putting up with me disappearing into the attic multiple times a day for my 30-minute writing sprints.
About the Author
Alex P. Keaton was my idol growing up. I’ve always had that dual nature of being interested in business (numbers, wearing a suit, working in an office) while also being a creative at heart (singing/playing guitar in alt/punk bands, writing, and acting).
My academic advisor in college told me to learn a trade after I said I wanted to be a writer. Being 20 and infatuated with Goethe and the Romantic movement, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted to be an ARTIST, not work in an office.
Fast-forward 25 years and the office worker has won out the majority of the time while I’ve still dabbled as an artist. Having worked for a number of years in corporate recruiting, I’ve always had side gigs, be it playing in a band, DJing, photography, writing freelance entertainment articles, acting, or voiceovers.
In July 2015, I embarked on my self-publishing journey with the Home Gym Strong series of non-fiction fitness memoirs. Two follow-ups came in late 2016 and the series finale dropped in late 2017. The SPOOK & GOON Space Adventures followed in 2018.
Born and raised on the banks of the Mighty Mississippi in Davenport, Iowa, I now live in Chicago with my beautiful wife, Carrie, and a varied collection of Macs and BBQ grills, always dreaming of our next Caribbean adventures.
For more information:
www.chadvholtkamp.com
[email protected]
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Copyright © 2018 by Chad V. Holtkamp
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Published by Briefcase Media Group, Chicago, Illinois
First edition published July 2018
VERSION 070818
Kindle ISBN 10 - 1-945982-04-7
Kindle ISBN 13 - 978-1-945982-04-0
Visit chadvholtkamp.com
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