by Mark Wandrey
In the morning she made a breakfast from the well-stocked pantry and checked her email. Aaron was carefully screening what got through, of that she had little doubt. The weather in Peninsula was still stormy, so she’d get her two days off. She did feel a little guilty, but as the day went on, and the skies cleared, some much needed relaxation replaced her guilt.
Every time she came to the little cabin, she did more work. She repaired wear and tear here and upgraded a system there. The cabin was beginning to come together.
That morning she decided to do some work in the bedroom. She’d brought in new area rugs when she’d first started staying at the cabin, but when she’d put the rugs down, she’d inadvertently damaged one of the old pieces of furniture. It was a gorgeous four drawer dresser supposedly made by her storied ancestor’s husband, the pig farmer and amateur carpenter. Tool kit in hand, she examined the piece. Considering Billy’s tools and the fact that the local hardwoods were far from that hard, he’d done a fabulous job, at least as far as her novice eye could tell.
During the carpet installation, she’d pulled too hard on the five-hundred-year-old dresser and nearly pulled a leg off. She surmised a little wood glue and a screw or two would fix the problem. She set to work, and a half hour later finished the job. Only, the bottom drawer wouldn’t close properly now. “Oh great,” she grumbled and tried repeatedly to ‘gently’ force the drawer closed. On her final attempt, it gave off an ominous ‘CRACK.’ “Now you’ve done it!” She pulled the drawer entirely out.
There was no obvious damage to the rail and no obvious indication of why it wouldn’t close. She leaned over, carefully eyeing the track cut in the wood, and she spotted it. A paperclip jammed the track. Using a pair of pliers, she extracted the clip and started to reinsert the drawer when she thought, Where did that clip come from?
The drawer contained only her clothes, and not much at that. When she’d moved in, there’d been almost nothing left from the previous occupants—a few pairs of shorts, a couple of musty towels, and a box holding some linens that might well have come from Earth. They were rank, and she’d long since sealed them in bags and shipped them off to the Plateau Historical Society. Minu removed her clothes from the drawer and examined it in detail. Nothing unusual. She flipped it upside down. The bottom was loose.
She pulled gently on the loose piece just to see how much repair it would take, and the entire drawer fell apart. “You have got to be kidding me,” she cried in dismay as the wood tumbled from her grasp and rained down on the floor. With a sigh she got on her hands and knees to collect the puzzle pieces. She’d nearly finished when she realized she had an extra bottom piece. She also noticed a fair amount of paper debris, four extra paperclips, and finally, a computer chip.
“A secret stash,” she realized as she moved some of the paper bits around the floor. During a week-long stint in the Chosen records department, she’d seen some old paper storage. This sort of leftovers was common from paper files, and she knew right away that the hidden place had once held more than a couple of pages. Now, only the debris and paperclips spoke of what had once been there. There was some dust, too. No one had accessed this hidey hole for a long, long time. She held the computer chip in one hand, turning it over and over for almost a minute, before a cold feeling crept up her spine. If no one had been here for so long, where did the computer chip come from? It was a modern moliplas chip of Concordian design. They were first seen on Bellatrix a little over a hundred years ago when the Tog returned and introduced humanity to the galaxy.
She left the partially-reassembled drawer where it lay and retrieved one of the half dozen tablets from her desk on the other side of the bedroom. She inserted the chip in the tablet, and it glowed slightly, acknowledging access. A file menu appeared in English. There was only one entry, titled “Astronomical Observations.” She opened the file and found hundreds of dated entries, each followed by complex symbols and computations, all of which meant exactly squat to her. Astronomy was something she didn’t have in common with her ancestor. Was this the long-lost astronomy diary of Mindy Harper? If so, who had taken the time to have them scanned into a modern computer chip? It had to be her dad, but it seemed like it had been many years since someone last opened the drawer. Minu remembered her father had never used the dresser on their trips to this island when she was a young child. Instead, he kept his clothes in a bag. She checked the file logs on the chip, but unlike human operating systems that automatically recorded date and time details, Concordian-made systems only did that if you requested it. Whoever had made this chip had not done so.
Minu copied the files almost without thought, then slipped the chip into her little dualloy secure chip safe, the same one she’d used to keep the files Pip had pilfered from the Tog database. She made a mental note to research the chip further and perhaps send a copy to the Plateau Historical Society
She repaired the drawer and put it back in place. She even fixed the secret compartment. Who knows? It could prove useful someday. As the brisk winter evening came upon her, she took a cup of tea out onto the little porch and sat in an ancient chair, also made by her ancestor, and watched the stars come out. A couple of howlers barked at each other across the water, a rare thing that time of year. There on the family ancestral island, her worries about the Concordia and the Chosen seemed so far away. It was probably the best place on the world humanity now called home. Like Mindy had once done on the same porch, she looked up into the sky facing the direction where a star would be visible that night. The star, 248 light years away, had once given birth to her species. That was where Mindy Harper was born. She looked over at a short line of graves with simple markers a few dozen meters away. Mindy, Billy, and all but one of their children rested there. Maybe she’d join them one day. It seemed appropriate that the last of the line to live and die on Bellatrix should join the first.
On the horizon, green Romulus was just beginning to rise. Remus would only appear late that evening, after its little brother had already made two sweeps across the great sky. A billion stars twinkled, and still her gaze was drawn to one. “What comes next?” she asked the stars. Only the howlers answered her.
# # # # #
About the Author
Located in rural Tennessee, Mark Wandrey has been creating new worlds since he was old enough to write. After penning countless short stories, he realized novels were his real calling and hasn’t looked back since. A lifetime of diverse jobs, extensive travels, and living in most areas of the country have uniquely equipped him with experiences to color his stories in ways many find engaging and thought provoking. Now a bestselling author, he has no intention of slowing down anytime soon.
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Caution – Worlds Under Construction
Titles by Mark Wandrey
Cartwright’s Cavaliers
Winged Hussars
A Fistful of Credits
For a Few Credits More
The Good, the Bad, and the Merc
Alpha Contracts
Earth Song: Overture
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The following is an
Excerpt from Book Three of the Earth Song Cycle:
The Lost Aria
___________________
Mark Wandrey
Coming Soon from Theogony Books
eBook, Paperback, and Audio
Excerpt from “The Lost Aria:”
Tak’la reached the end of the hall and entered the meeting room, immediately assuming the posture of respect, knees on the floor, immobile lips centimeters from the floor as well. “We of the Rasa thank you for coming,” he hissed through his translator.
“We will hear your plea,” the reply came quickly. The voice could not have been more different than his own, so full of volume and resonance. Tak’la rose to his feet and faced the Tanam where it stood with another of its kind. The felinoids were a full two meters tall eve
n in their somewhat slouched postures, standing bipedal on two limbs while two arms hung at their sides. Everything about the beings spoke of barely-contained power. Ten centimeter retractable claws tipped all four limbs, and canine fangs long enough to protrude below the jaw proclaimed this being as a climax predator of frightening ability. The Rasa evolved as predators on a primarily reptilian world, and they were ambush hunters and opportunists. The Tanam caused a deep feeling of fear to run along his spine. He knew they hunted by running down, battling, and tearing their foes limb from limb. Tak’la felt a moment of panic and considered running for his life. “Speak!” the Tanam ordered, and he did.
“We have asked you here to offer an alliance between our species.”
The Tanam snorted, a deep, almost subsonic sound, and regarded him even closer than before. The other one, though of similar build, remained aloof and without comment. Their ears were large and mobile, able to detect sound from any direction, and were pierced by a variety of bejeweled ornaments. The one who remained silent had more ornate decorations. A superior? The first one spoke again. “We know of an offer, as does every other high order species in the Concordia.” It took a step closer and Tak’la fought to stand his ground. “It speaks of fear and desperation after your defeat.” The other one issued a low rumbling growl.
Tak’la shivered, his resolve barely holding. “What we offer is not without merit.”
“Then speak of this offer.”
“First, may I state what we wish from this alliance?”
“If you desire.”
“Very well…We want the human creatures destroyed and utterly annihilated.”
The Tanam chuffed and shook its head, a gesture Tak’la could not guess the meaning of. “We have met these humans and tasted their flesh. While hominids are rare, these are no different than any other chattering primates we’ve encountered in the past. Timid, feckless children of a species with a dubious claim to the mantle of higher order. Deal with them yourselves.”
“We cannot. Our claim of Vendetta expired, and the council chose not to give us a chance at redemption.”
“Again, this is none of our concern.”
The other spoke for the first time, its voice even lower, making it even more difficult to control his fear. “We have always thought it wise to allow the lesser species to settle their own squabbles. We find it less desirable to meddle in your prattling than the Mok-Tok, and we don’t have such a taste for carnage as the T’Chillen. Still, I’m sure the council could be encouraged to hear your pleas, with the proper amounts and types of incentives.”
“We have exhausted our supplies of capital in such matters. The first Vendetta left us severely depleted in war materials, and our prestige badly damaged.”
The first one snorted. “No doubt…It was a disgraceful showing.”
“These humans are more than they appear,” Tak’la said, pressing on quickly. “They show remarkable tenacity in combat, and an almost cruel inventiveness in developing weapons never seen before in the Concordia.”
“Ludicrous,” said the first. The second just snorted again. “If you are as impoverished as you claim, then what could you possibly offer us as enticement? To get at the humans, we would first need to orphan them.”
“Are the Tog any great challenge to the mighty Tanam?”
“Do not patronize us,” the second one said in a deep dangerous growl.
“I would never dream of that, noble one. But would not the fall of the Tog be reward in itself to compensate you for the cleansing of the humans?”
“Perhaps, were you to offer us that destruction? Instead you would have us do the task ourselves, work for our own reward as it were. The Tog have adequate defenses, more than enough resources to call mercenaries to their aid should a protracted war be underway, and many allies on the Concordia Council. Even these humans would be of some modest help in defending their interests.”
“And what if we were able to hand you an easy victory?”
“You cannot handle the infant humans! What makes you think you can defeat their patrons, a higher order species eons more mature than you? We’ve wished them out of the way as far back as our history goes, and they persevere. Obnoxious grass eaters they might be, but they are tough grass eaters.”
“It is true that we are younger and less powerful than either you or the Tog, but what we lack in might, we more than make up for in shrewdness and creativity.” The Tanam stared at him. “If we are able to hand the Tog to you and make success all but guaranteed, would you agree to the second part of our deal?”
The first Tanam looked at the second for assurance, confirming Tak’la’s guess that the second was of higher rank. The barest of nods and the first turned back to him. “Yes. I see little chance such a thing can be done, so no risk is being assumed on our part.”
“Very well,” Tak’la said and reached into a pouch hanging from his waist. Those deadly eyes watched his every move, almost hoping he would produce a weapon. Tak’la placed a single crystalline rod and held it out to the Tanam. The rod was less than half a meter long, and it glowed slightly from an inner light. Concordia script slowly crawled around its width and length in ever changing patterns.
“That cannot be,” the second one said, pushing past the lower-ranking Tanam and carefully examining the device. “One has not been seen in many lifetimes.”
“As I said, we are resourceful. Two more are included in the offer.”
“Three?” The first Tanam exclaimed and looked at the second.
Tak’la didn’t have to be a Tanam to see the look of greed that flowed between the two like an electrical charge. It tore him in half to offer almost all of the devices they’d found, an incredibly rare and valuable thing to a higher-order species, a treasure beyond measure to the Rasa. Many months of negotiations and deals within the Concordia’s innumerable houses and clans gave him confidence that the fall of the Tog was worth anything he could pay.
“Do we have a deal then?” The two Tanam tore their eyes away from the glowing rod to look at him. One glance at their expressions and he knew the answer. “One now, the other two when it is done.”
* * * * *
Find out more about Mark Wandrey at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/imprints-authors/mark-wandrey/.
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of the Revelations Cycle:
Cartwright’s Cavaliers
___________________
Mark Wandrey
Now Available from Seventh Seal Press
eBook, Paperback, and Audio
Excerpt from “Cartwright’s Cavaliers:”
The last two operational tanks were trapped on their chosen path. Faced with destroyed vehicles front and back, they cut sideways to the edge of the dry river bed they’d been moving along and found several large boulders to maneuver around that allowed them to present a hull-down defensive position. Their troopers rallied on that position. It was starting to look like they’d dig in when Phoenix 1 screamed over and strafed them with dual streams of railgun rounds. A split second later, Phoenix 2 followed on a parallel path. Jim was just cheering the air attack when he saw it. The sixth damned tank, and it was a heavy.
“I got that last tank,” Jim said over the command net.
“Observe and stand by,” Murdock said.
“We’ll have these in hand shortly,” Buddha agreed, his transmission interspersed with the thudding of his CASPer firing its magnet accelerator. “We can be there in a few minutes.”
Jim examined his battlespace. The tank was massive. It had to be one of the fusion-powered beasts he’d read about. Which meant shields and energy weapons. It was heading down the same gap the APC had taken, so it was heading right towards that APC and Second Squad, and fast.
“Shit,” he said.
“Jim,” Hargrave said, “we’re in position. What are you doing?”
“Leading,” Jim said as he jumped out from the rock wall.
* * * * *
Get “Cartwright’s Cavaliers” now at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MRZKM95/.
Find out more about Mark Wandrey and “Cartwright’s Cavaliers” at: http://chriskennedypublishing.com/imprints-authors/mark-wandrey/.
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of The Psyche of War:
Minds of Men
___________________
Kacey Ezell
Now Available from Theogony Books
eBook, Paperback, and (Soon) Audio
Excerpt from “Minds of Men:”
“Look sharp, everyone,” Carl said after a while. Evelyn couldn’t have said whether they’d been droning for minutes or hours in the cold, dense white of the cloud cover. “We should be overhead the French coast in about thirty seconds.”
The men all reacted to this announcement with varying degrees of excitement and terror. Sean got up from his seat and came back to her, holding an awkward looking arrangement of fabric and straps.
Put this on, he thought to her. It’s your flak jacket. And your parachute is just there, he said, pointing. If the captain gives the order to bail out, you go, clip this piece into your ‘chute, and jump out the biggest hole you can find. Do you understand? You do, don’t you. This psychic thing certainly makes explaining things easier, he finished with a grin.
