My insides twist with anxiety. The Lacerator at RCM1? That’s seriously not-good, and for three key reasons. First, those poor employees. Working here is bad enough without getting minced to death. Second, RCM1 isn’t too far away from the abandoned factory where Mom and I live. Yikes. And third, the Lacerator hitting RCM1 means the Authority could get interested in my favorite spot for hard-to-get parts.
Which leads to my next question. “How does the Authority plan to deal with this, if at all?”
Let’s be honest. This is western Massachusetts. Everyone who lives or works out here is considered undesirable. We don’t get plumbing or electricity, let alone police to fight off killer monsters.
“The Authority wishes to study the Lacerator’s habits,” explains the auto-guard. “A scientific expedition has been dispatched to RCM1 to investigate.”
I bob my head and think this through. One expedition. That’s not too terrible.
“When are they due?” I ask.
“Since most attacks happen after midnight, the expedition arrives within the next two hours.”
I take it back. That’s totally horrible.
Tension knots up my limbs, but I force myself to stay calm. Two hours is more than enough time. Plus, what do I care about some scientific expedition? It’s not like they can cause me trouble. What will they do? Beaker me to death?
“Who’s in this expedition?”
“One scientist,” replies the auto-guard.
My shoulders slump with relief. “That’s great.”
“And to protect the scientist, Mercenaries of Righteous Enforcement will also be present. You may know these warriors as the Merciless. Displaying supplemental video.”
I stifle a groan. Everyone knows the Merciless.
Fresh video appears on the screen. Merciless warriors march down Newbury Street, their gash guns gleaming in the false sun of the Boston dome. Skull-like helmets top their black body armor, all of it fashioned to resemble charred bones. A sick taste fills my mouth. The Merciless are screened to be tall, handsome, and card-carrying sociopaths.
Merciless Captains also have an extra pal along: an attack beast trotting at their side. Most of these monsters are pony-sized mixtures of wolf, crocodile, and bat. The Horde.
At this point, things aren’t looking good here. Even so, there still may be a chance to salvage this. I need more information.
“Where will the expedition go?” After all, RCM1 is huge. Chances are, the Merciless will end up miles away from warehouse 942.
“The expedition plans to inspect warehouses 127, 559, and 935.”
My breath catches. I’ve hit every one of those warehouses for parts ... and all within the last three months. Even worse, warehouse 935 is not too far from 942, my destination for this trip. And the Lacerator shows up after midnight, which is my favorite time to stop by.
The temperature around me seems to spike about twenty degrees. It’s an effort to keep focused.
Stay calm, Meimi. Keep asking questions.
“What can you tell me about those warehouses? Are there any similarities tracked in the system?”
As a scientist, I’m not a superstitious person. Even so, I cross my fingers.
Please, don’t let the similarity be me.
The auto-guard stares into empty space for what feels like a millennium. “Similarity detected,” she states at last.
And then, nothing.
A long pause follows while the automaton blinks and that’s it. I make a mental note to tweak the code in this subroutine. Asking so many questions is giving me a headache.
“And?” I prompt. “What’s the similarity?”
“Recently, these warehouses were all visited by the same person, Regina Roberts.”
Shock reverberates through my system. “Regina Roberts? Did you say Regina Roberts?”
“That is correct. Is there a malfunction in my voice output?”
“No, it’s just that Luci Archer—I mean, Regina Roberts—is my sister. She worked here with me at RCM1, remember?” I don’t add in the part about her dying. For some reason, saying it out loud makes the loss too real.
“Providing supplemental surveillance per subroutine. Here you go, honey.”
Fresh video flashes onto the monitor before me, showing an aerial view from a Tetra drone. Although the scene takes place at night, I make out someone tall and slim with long white-blonde hair. Her orange cloak flaps behind her as she steps into a warehouse. The woman’s face isn’t visible, though.
Could that really be Luci?
For a long moment, I can only stare at the auto-guard. Luci is alive? No way that’s correct. At the same time, part of me wants my sister back so badly, I could scream.
“Update coming in.” The automaton’s head ticks more quickly than ever before. “Merciless warriors will arrive at RCM1 in twenty minutes.”
A knot of panic tightens my throat. Twenty minutes?
Okay, I’m enough of a scientist to accept facts here. This caper is toast. I should run for it. NOW. Problem is, my customer’s a maniac, as in a seriously psychotic killer who murders anyone that misses a shipment. Even worse, my deadline for this magnetic enhancer is just hours away.
Sweet mother of science.
Mom isn’t super-mobile. That said, maybe I could boost a transport for us to escape. But to where? My customer is none other than the Scythe, the most powerful crime lord around. He’ll find us no matter what.
Yet he might not discover us right away …
Taking a half-step backward, I get ready to bolt. Then I stop. What am I doing? Screw the Scythe. No way am I pulling up roots; I still have twenty minutes left. Grabbing stuff from RCM1 warehouses is my specialty.
I lift my chin and steel my nerves. This is totally do-able. Refocusing on the auto-guard, I give another command. “Make sure my stuff is ready for immediate pick up.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Shut off the super-cool girl hacker subroutine.” The auto-guard slumps forward as my passphrase erases all traces of this conversation. I glance at my watch. Midnight on the nose.
No time to lose.
Hoisting my backpack higher, I run toward warehouse 942.
Between the Lacerator, Merciless, and my killer customer, I have plenty to obsess about. Even so, I can only seem to focus on one thought.
My sister Luci may be alive.
And somehow, she and I are mixed up with the Lacerator.
Sweet mother of science indeed.
* * *
—End of sample—
Sample Chapter – UMBRA
Dimension Drift Prequel #2 - Chapter One
“Wish to travel the omniverse? First try leaping off a hovercraft without a power chute. Should you live, then you might survive in alternate realities as well.” – Beauregard the Great, Instructions for Visiting Parallel Worlds
Nine minutes.
That’s how long before this planet implodes.
I’m talking about a version of Earth that supports thousands of cities. Millions of buildings. Billions of people. Not to mention what’s almost beyond counting. Like photographs. Sunflowers. Bowling trophies. Baby carriages. As of this moment, I’m the only barrier between all that and instant annihilation.
Welcome to my Tuesday.
I’m Thorne Oxblood, and I fight inter-dimensional disasters.
For my current mission, I’m at placelet 92.248.908, planet X3894-B, strand BT704.35, and branch point 1T.783-50E. The locals have a simpler name for this location, though. Clyde’s Gym. Over the last hour, I’ve memorized every inch of this space, searching for the schism—meaning the inter-dimensional breaking point—that could tear this world apart. Nothing has shown itself yet. Nervous energy corkscrews up my shoulders and neck. What am I missing? For the umpteenth time, I inspect the gym.
Large, square space with concrete walls? Check.
Rickety slats in a worn-out floor? Check.
Faded girly calendars everywhere? Odd decoration, but it’s not my
gym. And check.
Points of access? Three. Main entrance up-front, an office side door, and a small emergency exit along the back wall. Since I arrived, no one’s entered or left.
Huge letter K glowing on the ceiling? Check. This is something only I can see, and it means my family’s arch-enemy, the Komandir, stopped by this gym at some point. Not as helpful a fact as one might think. It still doesn’t show me where the schism is hiding.
Humans? Nine. Two boxers pound away in the sparring ring. Another six guys slam into punching bags, lift weights or jump rope. One teenage girl scribbles on papers behind the door marked office. Then, there’s me. To the humans, I’m just an eighteen-year-old in gray sweats. Nothing about my muscular build, short hair, and brown eyes screams, this guy’s an alien.
But I am from another world. Umbra.
And as an Umbran, my body stores tiny cybernetic organisms called sentient. These minute creatures enable me to guard the omniverse, which is the universe of universes. Tonight’s mission marks my seventy-first rescue. For the record, my sentient are extra jacked up at this point. They keep sending me mental images of this planet exploding in a silent shower of blinding light.
Not for the first time, I try to calm them. I got it, I whisper in my mind. There’s trouble at Clyde’s Gym.
Another explosion image follows. Not helping.
I rub my temples and try to focus. Think through the problem, Thorne. Since I saw the glowing K, I’ve assumed the Komandir are behind the trouble here. But maybe the symbol is a distraction. Perhaps something else is at work. After all, these humans could be about to develop drift science, which is the ability to open alternate realities. Once you can visit other worlds, it’s easier to implode your own. Drift science would also explain why my sentient keep sending images of exploding planets instead of pics showing Doc Zykin, the Komandir assassin.
Closing my eyes, I reach out to my sentient. Is drift science the real problem here?
In reply, my sentient show me beauty queens jumping up and down after winning a pageant. It’s their way of saying, yes already. Amazing how, even though they can’t speak, my sentient still manage to be sarcastic.
Fresh scenes flood my mind. This time, my sentient review my last mission.
* * *
I stand in a huge white space. A sign for New Cosmos University hangs above me; equipment covers the floor all around. There are tall monoliths with computer arrays, a patchwork of workstations, and round databots that zoom through the air. I stand at the drift science station, dressed in a white lab coat. It took me two weeks to infiltrate this place as a research student. After that, I spent days hacking into university systems so anyone with Umbran DNA would be immune to security. Yet the real time-suck on this mission has been my target, Helen Robbins. She’s whip-smart with long black hair, cocoa skin, and a gaze that could melt titanium.
She thinks I’m up to something.
She’s right.
Trouble is, my secret agenda is to stop this version of Earth from imploding. For that to happen, Helen must ace her latest set of drift science calculations. How do I know her calcs are key? My sentient keep making her data pad glow red. For weeks, I’ve tried to help her, but she keeps blocking any attempts at conversation. My only chance is that the school board wants fresh numbers today.
“How’s it going?” I ask. “I know you’re on a deadline.”
Helen presses her tablet against her chest. “What’s it to you?”
“I want to help. That’s it. Honestly.”
Helen pauses. Little by little, she starts handing me her datapad.
At last.
I could cheer.
Behind me, the lab door thuds open. My brother Justice bursts into the room. He’s a bulky figure dressed in cowboy boots, a black T-shirt, jeans and a Stetson. In some kind of nod to science, he holds a pocket protector in his left hand. He stomps over to my side.
“How’s it going, little bro?” Justice closes his eyes. I know what he’s doing—accessing his sentient. “Guess you met the smartest filly in this here lab.” Justice increases intensity as he says ‘smartest filly.’ I get it. Justice means that his sentient pinpointed Helen as the target for this mission. Sadly, my brother already has a loud and gravelly voice. Upping the volume only makes the words ‘smartest filly’ boom through the chamber. Everyone stops working to stare.
My jaw muscles lock in frustration. Justice came here to check on me, clear and simple. Did it take me a few days to determine Helen was my target? Sure. I don’t have Justice’s power over sentient, so I figured it out on my own. Now, I’m finally finishing my work here, and my brother shows up to ‘help.’
He could ruin everything.
I look to Helen. She’s clasped the datapad so tightly against her torso, the girl’s knuckles flare white. “That’s your brother?” she asks, her face scrunched in disbelief.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yup. Can you ignore him?”
“I don’t know.” Helen takes a half-step backward. “He’s really really really big.”
Justice tips the brim of his Stetson. “Thank you, sugar.”
“Wasn’t a complement,” deadpans Helen. Justice keeps right on smiling. He’s convinced every woman loves him. Mostly because he’s the most eligible bachelor on Umbra.
I step closer to Helen. “Please. You only deal with him once. I’ve got him for the rest of my life.”
Helen pauses, then cracks a smile. “I’ve an older sister, too. Name’s Polly.” She hands over the datapad. “Poll’s a lot like your brother.”
“Is that right, now?” Justice flashes Helen a thousand-watt smile. “Is this Polly of yours all charm and sunshine, just like me?”
Helen chuckles. “Nope, she’s more of a busybody. Thinks I can’t do anything without her.”
“So.” Justice puffs out his lower lip. “Not like me.”
While Helen and Justice chat, I scan the datapad, make a few notes, and hand it back. “Your results from the dark matter tests are off,” I explain. The data comes another team, and I’m not surprised their work sucks. That group’s more interested in clubbing than science. “Rerun the tests yourself and your calcs will be fine.”
Helen scans the screen. “Thanks. If these numbers were off, it could have caused an explosion.”
“Through space and time,” adds Justice.
“Thanks,” I tell my brother. “But I’m handling this.” Which in family-speak translates to: shut the hell up.
Helen gives me the side eye. “How could you know those tests looked wrong? This is all new. No one’s seen proper results yet.”
Justice taps his temple. “My little brother here’s a thinker. He’s got to be, considering how he’s low on sentient and all.” Justice closes his eyes for a moment. “Good news. Now those numbers are put to rights, this here universe is safe again. Nice how things work out, huh?”
Helen frowns. “Did you say sentient?”
“Yes indeedy,” replies Justice. My brother then turns to me. “Speaking of sentient, did you catch how mine said our work here is done? We aced this mission together, little bro.”
“I caught that part, yes.” I’d add that Justice did no actual work to ace said mission, but that will only lead to more humiliating speeches about my weakness with sentient.
Justice slaps his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get back to Umbra.”
Helen’s brows lift. “Umbra?”
I shake my head. “Oh, it’s definitely time to leave.”
* * *
The memory replay ends. It’s obvious why my sentient showed me that scene. In Helen’s world, fixing drift science was the key to saving her planet. The same could be true here as well. Even so, Helen’s mission lasted for weeks and took place in a laboratory. This time, I’ve only got eight more minutes and a gymnasium.
Not gonna lie.
I’m at a loss here.
The main door swings open; five teenage guys step inside. All of them spor
t pomade-slick hair, white T-shirts, and cuffed jeans. Classic greasers. Which makes sense. After all, this parallel Earth broke off from the prime reality sometime in the 1950’s. Branch worlds often get stuck on their exit point.
The tallest in the group pauses just inside the door. He’s got a square face, a flat nose, and a great swoosh of blond hair. His stocky body seems ready to burst from his leather bomber jacket. A smaller teen pulls at the tall guy’s elbow.
“Axel,” he begins.
“Quiet, Runt.”
“The name’s Ralph,” squeaks the little guy.
“You’re whatever I call you.” Axel elbows the smaller kid in gut. Ralph gasps in pain, but he doesn’t fight back. Interesting. So whatever this group is, Axel is both their leader and a total dick. Not good. Axel’s beady eyes narrow as he inspects the room.
He’s looking for someone.
Beep… beep…
My earpiece lets out a soft tone that only I can hear. Based on the rhythm, I already know who’s calling. Justice.
“Accept inbound comm,” I say.
My brother’s gravelly voice echoes across the line. “You’ve got less than seven minutes left, little brother. Vamoose.”
“Not an option,” I declare. “My mission isn’t over.”
“Then I’m coming after you. Now.”
Right. Justice would be here already if I hadn’t hidden my placelet data. After the disaster with Helen, I figured out that trick.
“Any news for me?” I ask.
“The S-Man got us some info.”
By S-Man, Justice means Slate, our youngest brother. Together, the three of us make up the royal family for Umbra. As Emperor of the Omniverse, our father Cole wields the all-powerful Crown Sentient, while Slate’s abilities focus on visions and knowledge.
“This Earth is developing drift science tech,” continues Justice.
“My sentient already showed me that.” In my head, images of cheering crowds appear from my sentient. They rarely beat out Slate in getting me news.
“Come on, now.” Justice sighs. “You know what that means—most worlds destroy themselves once they reach this stage. Why save this planet?”
Alien Minds: Dimension Drift, Book 1 Page 24
