Diane Rapp's Blog: She's a Mystery and Science Fiction Writer!, page 7
July 20, 2016
Currents of Sin by Arleen Alleman
Currents of Sin by Arleen AllemanMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Searching for a runaway teenager in Sin City
This author masterfully tackles the difficult subject of human trafficking in her newest novel. She portrays the desperate plight of teenage runaways with a tone of compassion but also shines a ray of hope into the bleak situation. (In the narrative she describes social outreach programs for the victims that might make a difference.) It is obvious that she researched the subject matter extensively.
The action begins when Darcy rushes to Las Vegas to help friends from Seattle, Don and Charlie, find their adopted daughter’s sibling, Pamela, who was recently lured back to Las Vegas by an associate. Several people admit seeing the teenager but claim she abruptly disappeared. No one knows where she has gone.
Throughout novels in this mystery series, the “currents” of Darcy’s life constantly return to dark elements associated with Las Vegas. In this story those currents flow into a whirlpool of evil that trades on the suffering of powerless human beings, and Darcy feels compelled to intervene. She meets two pitiful girls, who sell their bodies on the street but yearn for a better life. She needs to help them!
Darcy risks her own life to track down the missing teenager and rescue girls from a dreadful life. Her determination unearths two gangs of human traffickers in “Sin City”—an Asian group kidnaps girls and ships them to overseas buyers, and s second gang operates an illegal brothel on the strip.
These dangerous thugs were originally hired by a man who harbors deadly malice towards Darcy and her friends, but he’s stuck in a super-max prison and no longer runs the day-to-day business. The current ringleader sends his gang out to kidnap beautiful runaways and puts them to work as sex slaves in the hotel that he manages.
As Darcy exposes activities of both gangs, she becomes a prime target for murder. Taking down despicable criminals means putting her life on the line and increases stress on her shaky marriage with Mick. Can Darcy and her family survive another perilous situation?
Those who previously read books in this series will certainly relish the conclusion of this novel. It wraps up unresolved currents in Darcy’s life. Those who haven’t read the other books can certainly appreciate this one as a standalone novel. Enough information is provided about Darcy and her friends to understand their story. Ms. Alleman’s insight into the human psyche helps add drama to an already compelling narrative. I recommend this novel to anyone who enjoys a psychological mystery.
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The Burnt Fox by Neil Grimmett
The Burnt Fox by Neil GrimmettMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
The grass is not always greener
Lamenting a life in a public housing neighborhood, Eliot decided his deteriorating relationship with wife, Donna, and his inability to concentrate on his writing was caused by rowdy neighbors. He knew life would be better if his family could “live on a secluded country estate where everything should be safe and simple.”
Millions of us watched “Downton Abbey” and day-dreamed of living like the gentry, but this novel explores a seamier side of life on a country estate. It reveals arduous work, dirty secrets, and abundant temptations. After securing a new position, Eliot discovers that the life of the gentry is not always what it appears, and realizes that honor, fidelity and truth must be carefully guarded or lost forever. Life is not always greener on the other side of the fence!
Neil Grimmett was a masterful writer who passed away last year. During an illustrious career, he won literary awards and published a riveting suspense novel (that I enjoyed) before his untimely death. Neil immersed his readers in the gritty lives of his characters, helping readers see, feel, and almost taste life through the adept mastery of his craft. I recommend this literary novel to readers who appreciate exploring the complexity of humanity from his unique perspective.
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June 5, 2016
Raven Lake (a Pat Tierney Mystery #3) By Rosemary McCracken
NEW RELEASE!READ DIANE'S 5* REVIEW:
Fans of the Pat Tierney Mystery series will enjoy this new novel as we reconnect with Pat. New family turmoil arises. Life as a single mother raising three children can’t be easy, but now Pat gets embroiled in another murder case. An elderly woman’s body is discovered in a storage locker, wrapped in a rug. Pat’s newspaper editor friend, Bruce, immediately becomes suspect number one since the woman was his mother.
Pat can’t let Bruce take the fall for the murder. He’s just getting his life back on track after the death of his father, and she knows the police won’t track down the killer. Pat volunteers to help solve the crime. The old woman suffered from dementia, so Pat must unravel a tangled web of past relationships while searching for suspects.
Pat hoped to spend her summer vacation enjoying a lakeside cabin. She only needed to wrap up loose ends in the investment firm and get the new branch manager, Nate, up to speed. Suddenly she must mediate between Nate and Soupy, the disgruntled salesman who thought he should get the top job. More problems arise. A fake cabin-rental scheme sends hapless renters to a clients’ cabin and later to her own place. It’s unnerving to see photos of her possessions spread across the internet site. Who broke in to take those shots?
Braeloch, the quiet lakeside refuge, looks more like a dangerous place with a murderer striking victims and angry renters showing up on the doorstep. Turmoil among her own family, distress at work, and problems investigating a murder makes Pat long for city life once more. Can she track down the killer before Bruce gets arrested? Can she resolve the predicament in her family? This exciting novel is sure to keep readers glued to the page until the very end of the book. buy Raven Lake
Murder, jealousy, fraud, deceit – welcome to sunny cottage country!
The author describes the book:
Diane, it’s great to be with you on Day Six of my Raven Lake blog tour. You did a super interview with one of my characters in Black Water, my second Pat Tierney mystery, when that book launched a few years ago. Now Pat is back for more adventures in Raven Lake.
When the novel opens at the end of June, she is more than ready for a summer vacation. She is about to leave her job at the investment firm where she’s worked for nearly two decades. She plans to spend the summer chilling out at a lakefront cottage she’s rented in Canadian cottage country, then return to Toronto in September to open her own financial advisory practice.
But Pat’s well-earned holiday gets off to a very bad start when her teenage daughter announces that she is pregnant. Then a friend of Pat’s is pegged by police as their prime suspect in a murder. And when victims of a cottage-rental scam start turning up at her door, Pat knows that her dream vacation has turned into a nightmare.
My challenge in creating Pat’s third mystery was what to do with her backstory from the first two novels.
Creating a protagonist’s backstory—his or her “life story” before the book opens—is essential for a writer in developing a novel. But determining how much of it to reveal to readers and how far along in the story to do so, is equally as important. As the word implies, backstory should be kept in the background.
Pat Tierney’s backstory goes way back—to before readers met her in Safe Harbor, the first novel in the series. She grew up in Montreal as Patty Kelleher, and her older brother, Jon, a freestyle skier, was her idol. Her world was shattered when Jon was killed in a car crash in his final year of high school.
The Kelleher home was not a happy one after his death. Patty’s parents couldn’t recover from their loss or help Patty cope with her grief. When she left home to attend college in another city, she was determined to make a new start. She called herself Pat and found new circle of friends. One of them was Michael Tierney—confident, laid-back, easy on the eyes. Pat and Michael married the year after Pat finished college.
But readers need to know very little of this, and I included very little of it in Safe Harbor. Backstory takes a story backward. Whether it’s revealed through flashbacks, a character’s memories or exposition, backstory stops the story’s forward movement. It’s important to the writer because it deepens her understanding of her protagonist, and creates a fuller, more engaging character. But it’s far less important to readers.
As New York literary agent Donald Maass notes in The Breakout Novelist, the prime reason why novel manuscripts are rejected is failure to put the main conflict in place quickly enough, “usually due to setting up the story with backstory.”
Raven Lake opens a few months after the end of Black Water, where Pat was based in cottage country north of Toronto, supervising the opening of a branch of her investment firm. She’s still in cottage country in the third novel, but I kept the backstory from the previous books to an absolute minimum. I put her to work by handing her a plateful of problems, and wove in the backstory as it was needed. We learn about her family when Laura drops the bomb about her pregnancy. We catch up with Bruce Stohl, a troubled man we first met in Black Water, when his elderly mother is killed and he becomes the main suspect. And then there’s the problem of the would-be vacationers who discover they’ve lost their holiday money to a rental fraudster and have nowhere to spend their vacations.
Very little backstory, but huge obstacles that keep Pat constantly on the go.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:Rosemary McCracken is now a Canadian fiction writer and a freelance journalist, and she teaches novel writing at Toronto’s George Brown College. Her first Pat Tierney mystery, Safe Harbor, was shortlisted for Britain’s Crime Writers’ Association’s Debut Dagger in 2010 and published by Imajin Books in 2012. It was followed by Black Water in 2013. “The Sweetheart Scamster,” a Pat Tierney mystery in the anthology Thirteen, was a finalist for a Derringer Award in 2014. Rosemary’s third Pat Tierney mystery, Raven Lake, has just been released! Jack Batten, the Toronto Star’s crime fiction reviewer, calls Pat “a hugely attractive sleuth figure.”
Follow Rosemary
on her blog, Moving Target at: http://rosemarymccracken.wordpress.com;
on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/RosemaryMcCracken.Author/;
and on Twitter @RCMcCracken .
Visit Rosemary’s website at http://www.rosemarymccracken.com/. BUY THE BOOKS AT THESE LINKS:
Safe Harbor: myBook.to/SafeHarborTierney
Black Water: myBook.to/BlackWaterTierney
Raven Lake: myBook.to/RavenLakeTierney
Thirteen: http://amzn.to/18oY8mF
May 30, 2016
Space Station Kubrick
Captain Ishtarek on the space station: 
His green scales covered by the gold uniform of a spaceship captain, the eight-foot tall lizard stepped out of the airlock and sniffed the ozone-rich space station atmosphere. He preferred more humidity but the blend of nitrogen and oxygen was adequate. It smelled superior to the recycled concoction that circulated through the freighter.
Ishtarek’s claws curled over the smooth handle of a silver canister that resembled a miniature coffin. His light-green facial scales appeared dull, his tongue tasted like copper, and his thin body felt ravenous. However, he rejected standard fare offered in the crew mess; he preferred to complete his task before he indulged a large appetite.
He wondered why he should feel fatigued after sleeping for months during the voyage. His dry eyeballs itched and his brain felt groggy, byproducts of the deep-sleep meds no doubt. Deep sleep was required for a passenger who traveled through space on a slow cargo freighter. The hyper-jumps that enabled faster-than-light travel were too expensive for shippers that carried ordinary goods, but no one expected a ship’s captain to travel in a unwieldy old vessel. Or would they?
Ishtarek scowled as he inspected the busy dock. Short spikes down the ridge of his back prickled, but he perceived no apparent danger. Would Institute enemies track him to Space Station Kubrick? It was an unlikely destination for a Gronklein warrior. The official ship’s records would not list him on the manifest, just a shipment of non-specific cargo to be offloaded at this destination.
The scant list of human friends who still supported Ishtarek risked their military careers to plant false trails across the galaxy. Ishtarek still felt uneasy about the success of the subterfuge and planned to disappear after the package was delivered. He knew that a particular Gronklein cruiser waited for his coded signal, hidden in the shadow of a neighboring planet. A stop at the Kubrick was foolhardy, but he made a promise, and a Gronk always kept his word regardless of danger to his own hide.
He slid the tip of his claw across complex utility belt controls to activate the magnetic boots needed to move across the metal decking. Once engaged he released the safety strap that kept him from floating in the zero-gravity of the cargo bay. It took little effort to propel the silver canister forward. He smoothly established a steady walking pace as his boots engaged magnetic pulses that matched his long stride.
Tendons stretched down the back of his legs, a pleasant sensation after idle months in deep sleep. Artificial muscle stimulation programs seldom maintained perfect condition in a reptilian body, and now the exercise helped his foggy mind clear as ichor circulated through his veins. His crest bristled at a metallic clatter and his claws twitched. The sound appeared to be normal, but he maintained vigilance while moving through unfamiliar territory. His free claws hovered over the handle of his weapon until he halted before a communicator station.
He gazed at a screen designed to accept human-sized handprints and snarled with frustration. Jabbing the call button with a claw, he waited. “How may we help you?” a female voice purred over the microphone.
“Captain Ishtarek requests immediate transportation to control central,” he hissed. “I bring a valuable gift for Dr. Hartman directly from Dr. Alexander.” He released the comm button and listened to static.
The sultry voice replied, “We could send a robotic collector for the package if you prefer to board a connecting ship.”
How did she know about his ship?
“No!” His voice boomed and his scales darkened to a deeper green as anger coursed through his system. Nearby workers paused to stare at the angry Gronk, and Ishtarek forced himself to assume a calm state before explaining, “My instructions were to deliver the package directly into Dr. Hartman’s hands. I also carry a private message from Dr. Alexander.”
Moments passed as she checked with Hartman. Ishtarek tried to remain patient until the voice announced, “A tram is dispatched to your location. Please to stand behind blue line for proper boarding of vehicle.” Although he could not see the speaker, the purr of her voice gave the impression that she was a member of a feline species.
Stepping behind the blue line, he watched a yellow tram bullet down the dock on rails embedded in the plascrete flooring. His gills quivered at the screech of the brakes, but Ishtarek flattened his crest to avoid confrontation with the creature who occupied the driver’s seat.
Doors slid open and a simian dressed in green coveralls peered at him. Recognizing the gold uniform of a captain, the ape quickly unclicked a seat restraint and swung toward the door across overhead rings. He stretched out a long, hairy arm and chattered.
Cocking his head, Ishtarek stared at the ape. The creature touched a pin at his throat and said, “Sorry, Captain! I listen to data-stream from home planet and forget to activate universal translator. Let me stow your cargo. You fasten body into seat, please.” He pointed a hairy finger at the cushioned bank of platifoam seats along the far side of the vehicle and pushed the coffin into nearby webbing.
The doors whooshed shut and the simian swung into the driver’s seat. “We not get many Gronks on this station.” He craned his neck to eye the gold uniform once again. “Not many captains of your species travel without guards to watch you back.”
Crest spikes flared in a corona over Ishtarek’s head, making the ape quickly avert his gaze. The vehicle sped down the circular cargo deck, banked around the far curve, and soon spiraled toward the center of the station. Ishtarek remained silent. Soon the ape clicked a sensor on the console and simian chattering vibrated through the vehicle during the trip.
Ishtarek allowed himself to relax, settling into the contours of the plastifoam seat as the rumble of the vehicle lulled him. Nictitating membranes flicked over his eyeballs, spreading welcome moisture over the orbs as he dosed.
The abrupt screech of brakes jolted Ishtarek awake as the tram halted. The simian unhooked the coffin from its webbing and said, “We be at control central. There be gravity here so no need for magnet-boots, sir.” He swung the coffin into Ishtarek’s claws as the reptile left the vehicle. “You wish wheels for cargo?” the ape asked.
“No. I’ll manage on my own.” It felt good to flex the muscles in his arms although the weight of the silver container was relatively light. He deactivated his boots and marched toward pressurized doors.
Cool air caressed his scales as the doors slid apart. He noticed a more suitable blend of humidity in the air and inhaled deeply as he entered reception. A lovely chameleon sat at the desk. Her presence surprised him, and Ishtarek exhaled a loud hiss that startled the delicate creature. Shades of magenta spread rapidly up her willowy neck, and soon her face mimicked the color of the wall behind her desk.
“So sorry, miss,” he said, executing a courtly bow. “The voice on the comm sounded feline, therefore, your lovely aspect took me by surprise. Please accept my profound apologies for frightening you.”
With a tentative smile, she regained a lovely shade of lime that complimented her golden eyes. “You spoke to Felicity on the comm, and she is indeed a feline creature. No need to apologize. I’ll advise the Director that you arrived with a delivery.” She eyed the silver coffin as her slender claws stroked the desk surface. She read the reply and gestured toward another set of doors. “You will find Felicity those doors, and she’ll guide you to the Director’s office.”
As the set of pressurized doors disappeared into the wall, a lanky feline stood waiting for Ishtarek. Dressed in billowing black pants and matching vest, the color accented her golden fur and jet-black stripes. Her perky ears rotated forward, and her amber-colored eyes narrowed at the sight of the massive reptile.
“Follow me this way, sir.” Felicity’s silken voice matched the purring tone he’d heard over the comm, but her piercing gaze didn’t look friendly. Ishtarek followed the lithe feline down the corridor. Although he wasn’t attracted to a cat, the rhythmic swish of a supple tale made him anxious to reconnect with his wives.
Doors opened automatically as they moved into the core of the space station. Finally an opening revealed a slender man sporting shoulder-length black hair watching a vid-screen filled with scenes of Ishtarek’s recent trial.
He grinned, displaying brilliant white teeth, as he turned off the screen. “You put on quite a show for the entire galaxy, Captain. Preston Hartman at your service.” He offered a large, calloused hand and stepped forward to greet his guest. He wore a white silk shirt and tight-fitting black pants tucked into knee-high boots, looking like a pirate from old adventure vids.
Ishtarek smirked, realizing that the man was indeed a pirate, the modern version, who traded legal commodities and illegal. The Kubrick was located beyond the borders of civilized space, just inside the Dark Zone, and frequented by renegade vessels that docked for repairs and to trade in contraband.
As Ishtarek gently wrapped his claws around the human’s appendage, he felt the man’s strong muscles that belied a soft life. Preston Harman was not afraid of hard labor, getting his hands dirty alongside ordinary workmen. Ishtarek immediately liked the human.
“So, Alex sent me a gift?” Hartman eyed the silver coffin with open curiosity.
“Yes. Dr. Alexander was quite anxious that I deliver this cargo directly into your hands. He claims it filled a long-standing order.” Ishtarek set the coffin atop the desk, and his claws clicked a long set of numbers into the combination lock. Silently the lid opened and curious eyes peered inside the cavity. Felicity gazed in wonder at the sparkling crystals inside the container, but Hartman clapped his hands with delight.
Hartman declared, “Treated mendilium crystals! There’s enough here to keep our Transfer chamber in business for several spans. I never thought we’d see the like again.” He shut the lid, having already memorized the combination, and turned to Ishtarek. “We heard that you nearly blasted Drako to kingdom-come! We wondered who the Institute wanted so much that they’d threaten an entire planet. Now I know were the Zebulon landed.”
Ishtarek’s crest bristled but he nodded. “After the crisis was averted, Dr. Alexander signed a treaty agreeing to trade treated mendilium crystals for certain machinery. He was very anxious to make contact with you after the Institute discovered his location. He doesn’t believe the Institute will honor the treaty. I’m authorized to provide you with a means to establish secure communication.” He cast a serious glance toward Felicity. “I must deliver the information to you in private, Dr. Hartman.”
Laughing, the pirate spun on his heels and escorted his feline assistant to the door with a jaunty step. In a reassuring tone he said, “I’ll be safe with him. Gronks are honorable creatures.” She frowned and her eyes narrowed to suspicious slits as Hartman slid the doors shut. Hartman added, “I trust her with my life, but I understand about security measures. Please call me Preston.”
Ishtarek’s gills quivered with surprise. “Humans don’t usually use two names. Please explain.”
Preston grinned. “When I arrived on this station, running from Institute assassins, I felt it prudent to drop the title ‘doctor’ from my name. The act was mostly self-preservation, since I’d be dealing with many outlaws, but I also rebelled against Institute regulations by reclaiming my full name.
“Three of the inventors of Transfer were medical doctors—Jerome Kent, Stewart Duncan, and Alexander Rogers. I was the sole academic in the group, sporting a mere Ph.D. My doctorate in space engineering was a worthless title in Dark Space and easy to lose. I still work my craft without the fancy title but I wanted my birth name restored.”
Ishtarek shook his head. “We never heard that the four inventors of Transfer were threatened by the Institute. How did that transpire?”
Preston frowned and leaned against his desk. “We were four smart men that were incredibly stupid! To administrate demand for the Transfer process, we established the Institute as a business venture to run the operation. Eventually those savvy administrators stripped the inventors of true power, blocked us out of the business.
“Next they streamlined record-keeping by robbing individuals of their full legal names. The next time we used Transfer, we each registered one name and the Institute stuck on a number that branded us in their records. The other three doctors chose to use their first names for the archives, but I decided to retain my family surname. Later, it rankled that I lost my given name during the process.”
Ishtarek rubbed his chin scales with a long claw. “Gronklein heritage includes long names associated with each clan. I remember the anger I felt when the Institute shortened my name in their military records. Honor compelled me to obey the rules, but I plan to reclaim my full identity when I reach home.”
Preston gestured at the window that displayed a view of the myriad of levels on the space station. “I carved out a lucrative niche on this station, built a thriving business that equally services ships from all over the galaxy—the Institute be damned. Care to take a seat?”
Ishtarek examined the plastifoam seating in the office. The comfortable-looking chairs were fabricated with a single arm attached from a molded seat to the adjustable backrest. The design allowed creatures sporting tails to sit in comfort without bending the appendage out of shape. Ishtarek lowered his body into a chair, sliding his short tail through the ample opening.
Preston sat behind his desk and waited for the reptile to provide the secret information.
Ishtarek recited a communication address from memory, watching Preston’s face as the human memorized the data. The pirate stoked his desktop with long fingers and soon the surface glowed with stored messages.
He leaned back and grinned. “The portal is already live. I tagged the connection to my genetic markers and established a secure password. I’ll safely exchange private information with Alex from any portal.” His dark eyes sparkled as he blanked the screen with an elegant swipe. “I say this demands a drink to celebrate. Would you care for a glass of squelch to slake your thirst, Captain Ishtarek?”
“Squelch? Humans don’t normally trade in our Gronklein delicacy! It takes a savvy pirate to obtain a supply.” Ishtarek laughed at Preston’s sly grin and upraised eyebrow. “Securing squelch proves that you really are a pirate. I’d be honored to imbibe Squelch but doubt you’d survive the ingredients.”
“Too right. I’ll take a glass of Martian wine if you don’t mind.” Preston activated his comm to place an order for refreshments. “While we wait, please tell me more about that blasted trial. Televised reports were slanted to favor the Institute, no doubt.”
Ishtarek nodded, his scales turning emerald at the distasteful memory. “On Drako my crew of humans nearly mutinied. You see, Fremont ordered me to fire upon the planet, since secret orders from the Institute freed him to commit murder. As captain of the ship, I was obliged to obey direct orders. Luckily, Drako’s planetary defense team managed to shoot down our missiles in flight—although one missile exploded above a nuclear reactor. An ancient defense shield narrowly averted disaster.”
Preston chuckled. “Fremont was a real snake, and I’m glad to hear he met an untimely end for his treachery.”
The lizard’s lips curled into an eerie grin that exposed sharp fangs. “He made the fatal error of giving me written instructions to detonate explosives planted in cargo delivered to the planet. Although Fremont tried to countermand the orders verbally, a written order cannot be overruled. The scheme did not work out well for Fremont and his passenger, Jarrack.”
Preston’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “You got the assassin, Jarrack, in the same explosion? That’s capital news. Still and all, your crew filed charges when they returned to home base. I’d bet that rankled a captain of your stature.”
Ishtarek sighed and nodded. “I can’t blame the crew. Humans fail to understand the Gronklein code of honor. Should I disobey orders from a superior, I could never return in honor to my home world. My choice was simple, but I felt relieved that the planet survived our attack.”
“How did you manage to prevail during the trial?”
“I retained copies of every order Fremont issued. Those files caused the Institute prosecutor to turn a delicious shade of red when he heard the evidence in court. In addition, Dr. Alexander and King Donovan provided written accounts that helped me avoid a judgement of execution. In the end I agreed to surrender command of the Renaissance and fled with my hide intact. I don’t trust the Institute, therefore, I took evasive precautions during my travels and arrived here six cycles later.”
“You are welcome to stay on the Kubrick as long as you wish,” Preston announced.
Ishtarek’s gills quivered in a mild display of emotion. He said, “That won’t be necessary. I arranged for a Gronklein ship to dock upon my signal and transport me home.”
The doors to the office whooshed open. A large black leopard entered, carrying a silver tray filled with matching cups. The feline’s large paws, imposing size, and broad facial features marked him as a male of his species. He wore billowing silk pants and matching vest in a rich red color that contrasted against jet-black fur sprinkled with dark leopard splotches. His vivid green eyes scrutinized Ishtarek like good soldier evaluating the enemy.
Ishtarek noticed jagged scars on the giant cat’s nose and a half-bitten ear that drooped to one side of the rounded head. Although cosmetic surgeons could erase such marks, the warrior wore his scars with pride. Their eyes met and mutual understanding passed between the two soldiers.
Preston broke the silence. “Thanks for delivering our refreshments, Sinbad. It gives me the opportunity of introducing you to Captain Ishtarek, the recent commander of the battle drone Renaissance. ”
“I heard about the Captain’s unjust trial and remember how often the good captain received medals of valor during the war.” Sinbad executed a respectful half-bow to the reptile and offered him the silver tray. “I would be honored to serve on your crew if ever you need me, Captain Ishtarek.”
“My crew would be well-served by your presence. As you heard from vid-news, I recently retired from duty and plan to peacefully spend my days sipping squelch surrounded by my six wives.” He took a silver cup from the tray and dipped his forked tongue into the steaming liquid. He sighed with pleasure, savoring the familiar taste.
Preston grinned as he accepted his own cup, filled with his favorite brand of wine. “I can’t imagine peace with a bevy of wives hanging about. What do you say, Sinbad? Would you retire to the jungle surrounded by six panther females?”
“I’d rather be roasted alive, sir. Our females prefer solitary lives without male interference unless they request a breeding rendezvous.” His eyes narrowed as he considered another idea. “I’ve heard that Gronklein females often serve as crew on battle drones. Perhaps your bevy of wives will lead a war party against Institute planets one day.”
“We never divulge our leaders’ future plans. If the Institute oversteps its authority, you can be sure Gronklein warriors will protect our planetary interests. Would you be opposed to a change of regime at headquarters?”
Preston and Sinbad exchanged meaningful glances but remained silent as they both sipped their respective drinks. Suddenly, the desk pulsed with a warning shade of red, and Preston swiped the surface as Felicity entered. She announced, “Sir, an Institute battle drone demands docking privileges and demands that we deliver Captain Ishtarek into their custody.”
Glancing first at Ishtarek and then at the mendilium crystals, Preston issued orders. “Sinbad, activate a team to handle slow-docking maneuvers. That should give us twenty minutes to spare. Felicity, help me empty this container and stow the valuable crystals into a tamper-proof safe.” He activated the comm and barked, “Send Cookie up here, pronto, with enough illicit delicacies to fill a container three-feet long by one-foot wide. Make sure the foodstuffs appeal to humans.”
His green scales covered by the gold uniform of a spaceship captain, the eight-foot tall lizard stepped out of the airlock and sniffed the ozone-rich space station atmosphere. He preferred more humidity but the blend of nitrogen and oxygen was adequate. It smelled superior to the recycled concoction that circulated through the freighter. Ishtarek’s claws curled over the smooth handle of a silver canister that resembled a miniature coffin. His light-green facial scales appeared dull, his tongue tasted like copper, and his thin body felt ravenous. However, he rejected standard fare offered in the crew mess; he preferred to complete his task before he indulged a large appetite.
He wondered why he should feel fatigued after sleeping for months during the voyage. His dry eyeballs itched and his brain felt groggy, byproducts of the deep-sleep meds no doubt. Deep sleep was required for a passenger who traveled through space on a slow cargo freighter. The hyper-jumps that enabled faster-than-light travel were too expensive for shippers that carried ordinary goods, but no one expected a ship’s captain to travel in a unwieldy old vessel. Or would they?
Ishtarek scowled as he inspected the busy dock. Short spikes down the ridge of his back prickled, but he perceived no apparent danger. Would Institute enemies track him to Space Station Kubrick? It was an unlikely destination for a Gronklein warrior. The official ship’s records would not list him on the manifest, just a shipment of non-specific cargo to be offloaded at this destination.
The scant list of human friends who still supported Ishtarek risked their military careers to plant false trails across the galaxy. Ishtarek still felt uneasy about the success of the subterfuge and planned to disappear after the package was delivered. He knew that a particular Gronklein cruiser waited for his coded signal, hidden in the shadow of a neighboring planet. A stop at the Kubrick was foolhardy, but he made a promise, and a Gronk always kept his word regardless of danger to his own hide.
He slid the tip of his claw across complex utility belt controls to activate the magnetic boots needed to move across the metal decking. Once engaged he released the safety strap that kept him from floating in the zero-gravity of the cargo bay. It took little effort to propel the silver canister forward. He smoothly established a steady walking pace as his boots engaged magnetic pulses that matched his long stride.
Tendons stretched down the back of his legs, a pleasant sensation after idle months in deep sleep. Artificial muscle stimulation programs seldom maintained perfect condition in a reptilian body, and now the exercise helped his foggy mind clear as ichor circulated through his veins. His crest bristled at a metallic clatter and his claws twitched. The sound appeared to be normal, but he maintained vigilance while moving through unfamiliar territory. His free claws hovered over the handle of his weapon until he halted before a communicator station.
He gazed at a screen designed to accept human-sized handprints and snarled with frustration. Jabbing the call button with a claw, he waited. “How may we help you?” a female voice purred over the microphone.
“Captain Ishtarek requests immediate transportation to control central,” he hissed. “I bring a valuable gift for Dr. Hartman directly from Dr. Alexander.” He released the comm button and listened to static.
The sultry voice replied, “We could send a robotic collector for the package if you prefer to board a connecting ship.”
How did she know about his ship?
“No!” His voice boomed and his scales darkened to a deeper green as anger coursed through his system. Nearby workers paused to stare at the angry Gronk, and Ishtarek forced himself to assume a calm state before explaining, “My instructions were to deliver the package directly into Dr. Hartman’s hands. I also carry a private message from Dr. Alexander.”
Moments passed as she checked with Hartman. Ishtarek tried to remain patient until the voice announced, “A tram is dispatched to your location. Please to stand behind blue line for proper boarding of vehicle.” Although he could not see the speaker, the purr of her voice gave the impression that she was a member of a feline species.
Stepping behind the blue line, he watched a yellow tram bullet down the dock on rails embedded in the plascrete flooring. His gills quivered at the screech of the brakes, but Ishtarek flattened his crest to avoid confrontation with the creature who occupied the driver’s seat.
Doors slid open and a simian dressed in green coveralls peered at him. Recognizing the gold uniform of a captain, the ape quickly unclicked a seat restraint and swung toward the door across overhead rings. He stretched out a long, hairy arm and chattered.
Cocking his head, Ishtarek stared at the ape. The creature touched a pin at his throat and said, “Sorry, Captain! I listen to data-stream from home planet and forget to activate universal translator. Let me stow your cargo. You fasten body into seat, please.” He pointed a hairy finger at the cushioned bank of platifoam seats along the far side of the vehicle and pushed the coffin into nearby webbing.
The doors whooshed shut and the simian swung into the driver’s seat. “We not get many Gronks on this station.” He craned his neck to eye the gold uniform once again. “Not many captains of your species travel without guards to watch you back.”
Crest spikes flared in a corona over Ishtarek’s head, making the ape quickly avert his gaze. The vehicle sped down the circular cargo deck, banked around the far curve, and soon spiraled toward the center of the station. Ishtarek remained silent. Soon the ape clicked a sensor on the console and simian chattering vibrated through the vehicle during the trip.
Ishtarek allowed himself to relax, settling into the contours of the plastifoam seat as the rumble of the vehicle lulled him. Nictitating membranes flicked over his eyeballs, spreading welcome moisture over the orbs as he dosed.
The abrupt screech of brakes jolted Ishtarek awake as the tram halted. The simian unhooked the coffin from its webbing and said, “We be at control central. There be gravity here so no need for magnet-boots, sir.” He swung the coffin into Ishtarek’s claws as the reptile left the vehicle. “You wish wheels for cargo?” the ape asked.
“No. I’ll manage on my own.” It felt good to flex the muscles in his arms although the weight of the silver container was relatively light. He deactivated his boots and marched toward pressurized doors.
Cool air caressed his scales as the doors slid apart. He noticed a more suitable blend of humidity in the air and inhaled deeply as he entered reception. A lovely chameleon sat at the desk. Her presence surprised him, and Ishtarek exhaled a loud hiss that startled the delicate creature. Shades of magenta spread rapidly up her willowy neck, and soon her face mimicked the color of the wall behind her desk.
“So sorry, miss,” he said, executing a courtly bow. “The voice on the comm sounded feline, therefore, your lovely aspect took me by surprise. Please accept my profound apologies for frightening you.”
With a tentative smile, she regained a lovely shade of lime that complimented her golden eyes. “You spoke to Felicity on the comm, and she is indeed a feline creature. No need to apologize. I’ll advise the Director that you arrived with a delivery.” She eyed the silver coffin as her slender claws stroked the desk surface. She read the reply and gestured toward another set of doors. “You will find Felicity those doors, and she’ll guide you to the Director’s office.”
As the set of pressurized doors disappeared into the wall, a lanky feline stood waiting for Ishtarek. Dressed in billowing black pants and matching vest, the color accented her golden fur and jet-black stripes. Her perky ears rotated forward, and her amber-colored eyes narrowed at the sight of the massive reptile.
“Follow me this way, sir.” Felicity’s silken voice matched the purring tone he’d heard over the comm, but her piercing gaze didn’t look friendly. Ishtarek followed the lithe feline down the corridor. Although he wasn’t attracted to a cat, the rhythmic swish of a supple tale made him anxious to reconnect with his wives.
Doors opened automatically as they moved into the core of the space station. Finally an opening revealed a slender man sporting shoulder-length black hair watching a vid-screen filled with scenes of Ishtarek’s recent trial.
He grinned, displaying brilliant white teeth, as he turned off the screen. “You put on quite a show for the entire galaxy, Captain. Preston Hartman at your service.” He offered a large, calloused hand and stepped forward to greet his guest. He wore a white silk shirt and tight-fitting black pants tucked into knee-high boots, looking like a pirate from old adventure vids.
Ishtarek smirked, realizing that the man was indeed a pirate, the modern version, who traded legal commodities and illegal. The Kubrick was located beyond the borders of civilized space, just inside the Dark Zone, and frequented by renegade vessels that docked for repairs and to trade in contraband.
As Ishtarek gently wrapped his claws around the human’s appendage, he felt the man’s strong muscles that belied a soft life. Preston Harman was not afraid of hard labor, getting his hands dirty alongside ordinary workmen. Ishtarek immediately liked the human.
“So, Alex sent me a gift?” Hartman eyed the silver coffin with open curiosity.
“Yes. Dr. Alexander was quite anxious that I deliver this cargo directly into your hands. He claims it filled a long-standing order.” Ishtarek set the coffin atop the desk, and his claws clicked a long set of numbers into the combination lock. Silently the lid opened and curious eyes peered inside the cavity. Felicity gazed in wonder at the sparkling crystals inside the container, but Hartman clapped his hands with delight.
Hartman declared, “Treated mendilium crystals! There’s enough here to keep our Transfer chamber in business for several spans. I never thought we’d see the like again.” He shut the lid, having already memorized the combination, and turned to Ishtarek. “We heard that you nearly blasted Drako to kingdom-come! We wondered who the Institute wanted so much that they’d threaten an entire planet. Now I know were the Zebulon landed.”
Ishtarek’s crest bristled but he nodded. “After the crisis was averted, Dr. Alexander signed a treaty agreeing to trade treated mendilium crystals for certain machinery. He was very anxious to make contact with you after the Institute discovered his location. He doesn’t believe the Institute will honor the treaty. I’m authorized to provide you with a means to establish secure communication.” He cast a serious glance toward Felicity. “I must deliver the information to you in private, Dr. Hartman.”
Laughing, the pirate spun on his heels and escorted his feline assistant to the door with a jaunty step. In a reassuring tone he said, “I’ll be safe with him. Gronks are honorable creatures.” She frowned and her eyes narrowed to suspicious slits as Hartman slid the doors shut. Hartman added, “I trust her with my life, but I understand about security measures. Please call me Preston.”
Ishtarek’s gills quivered with surprise. “Humans don’t usually use two names. Please explain.”
Preston grinned. “When I arrived on this station, running from Institute assassins, I felt it prudent to drop the title ‘doctor’ from my name. The act was mostly self-preservation, since I’d be dealing with many outlaws, but I also rebelled against Institute regulations by reclaiming my full name.
“Three of the inventors of Transfer were medical doctors—Jerome Kent, Stewart Duncan, and Alexander Rogers. I was the sole academic in the group, sporting a mere Ph.D. My doctorate in space engineering was a worthless title in Dark Space and easy to lose. I still work my craft without the fancy title but I wanted my birth name restored.”
Ishtarek shook his head. “We never heard that the four inventors of Transfer were threatened by the Institute. How did that transpire?”
Preston frowned and leaned against his desk. “We were four smart men that were incredibly stupid! To administrate demand for the Transfer process, we established the Institute as a business venture to run the operation. Eventually those savvy administrators stripped the inventors of true power, blocked us out of the business.
“Next they streamlined record-keeping by robbing individuals of their full legal names. The next time we used Transfer, we each registered one name and the Institute stuck on a number that branded us in their records. The other three doctors chose to use their first names for the archives, but I decided to retain my family surname. Later, it rankled that I lost my given name during the process.”
Ishtarek rubbed his chin scales with a long claw. “Gronklein heritage includes long names associated with each clan. I remember the anger I felt when the Institute shortened my name in their military records. Honor compelled me to obey the rules, but I plan to reclaim my full identity when I reach home.”
Preston gestured at the window that displayed a view of the myriad of levels on the space station. “I carved out a lucrative niche on this station, built a thriving business that equally services ships from all over the galaxy—the Institute be damned. Care to take a seat?”
Ishtarek examined the plastifoam seating in the office. The comfortable-looking chairs were fabricated with a single arm attached from a molded seat to the adjustable backrest. The design allowed creatures sporting tails to sit in comfort without bending the appendage out of shape. Ishtarek lowered his body into a chair, sliding his short tail through the ample opening.
Preston sat behind his desk and waited for the reptile to provide the secret information.
Ishtarek recited a communication address from memory, watching Preston’s face as the human memorized the data. The pirate stoked his desktop with long fingers and soon the surface glowed with stored messages.
He leaned back and grinned. “The portal is already live. I tagged the connection to my genetic markers and established a secure password. I’ll safely exchange private information with Alex from any portal.” His dark eyes sparkled as he blanked the screen with an elegant swipe. “I say this demands a drink to celebrate. Would you care for a glass of squelch to slake your thirst, Captain Ishtarek?”
“Squelch? Humans don’t normally trade in our Gronklein delicacy! It takes a savvy pirate to obtain a supply.” Ishtarek laughed at Preston’s sly grin and upraised eyebrow. “Securing squelch proves that you really are a pirate. I’d be honored to imbibe Squelch but doubt you’d survive the ingredients.”
“Too right. I’ll take a glass of Martian wine if you don’t mind.” Preston activated his comm to place an order for refreshments. “While we wait, please tell me more about that blasted trial. Televised reports were slanted to favor the Institute, no doubt.”
Ishtarek nodded, his scales turning emerald at the distasteful memory. “On Drako my crew of humans nearly mutinied. You see, Fremont ordered me to fire upon the planet, since secret orders from the Institute freed him to commit murder. As captain of the ship, I was obliged to obey direct orders. Luckily, Drako’s planetary defense team managed to shoot down our missiles in flight—although one missile exploded above a nuclear reactor. An ancient defense shield narrowly averted disaster.”
Preston chuckled. “Fremont was a real snake, and I’m glad to hear he met an untimely end for his treachery.”
The lizard’s lips curled into an eerie grin that exposed sharp fangs. “He made the fatal error of giving me written instructions to detonate explosives planted in cargo delivered to the planet. Although Fremont tried to countermand the orders verbally, a written order cannot be overruled. The scheme did not work out well for Fremont and his passenger, Jarrack.”
Preston’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “You got the assassin, Jarrack, in the same explosion? That’s capital news. Still and all, your crew filed charges when they returned to home base. I’d bet that rankled a captain of your stature.”
Ishtarek sighed and nodded. “I can’t blame the crew. Humans fail to understand the Gronklein code of honor. Should I disobey orders from a superior, I could never return in honor to my home world. My choice was simple, but I felt relieved that the planet survived our attack.”
“How did you manage to prevail during the trial?”
“I retained copies of every order Fremont issued. Those files caused the Institute prosecutor to turn a delicious shade of red when he heard the evidence in court. In addition, Dr. Alexander and King Donovan provided written accounts that helped me avoid a judgement of execution. In the end I agreed to surrender command of the Renaissance and fled with my hide intact. I don’t trust the Institute, therefore, I took evasive precautions during my travels and arrived here six cycles later.”
“You are welcome to stay on the Kubrick as long as you wish,” Preston announced.
Ishtarek’s gills quivered in a mild display of emotion. He said, “That won’t be necessary. I arranged for a Gronklein ship to dock upon my signal and transport me home.”
The doors to the office whooshed open. A large black leopard entered, carrying a silver tray filled with matching cups. The feline’s large paws, imposing size, and broad facial features marked him as a male of his species. He wore billowing silk pants and matching vest in a rich red color that contrasted against jet-black fur sprinkled with dark leopard splotches. His vivid green eyes scrutinized Ishtarek like good soldier evaluating the enemy.
Ishtarek noticed jagged scars on the giant cat’s nose and a half-bitten ear that drooped to one side of the rounded head. Although cosmetic surgeons could erase such marks, the warrior wore his scars with pride. Their eyes met and mutual understanding passed between the two soldiers.
Preston broke the silence. “Thanks for delivering our refreshments, Sinbad. It gives me the opportunity of introducing you to Captain Ishtarek, the recent commander of the battle drone Renaissance. ”
“I heard about the Captain’s unjust trial and remember how often the good captain received medals of valor during the war.” Sinbad executed a respectful half-bow to the reptile and offered him the silver tray. “I would be honored to serve on your crew if ever you need me, Captain Ishtarek.”
“My crew would be well-served by your presence. As you heard from vid-news, I recently retired from duty and plan to peacefully spend my days sipping squelch surrounded by my six wives.” He took a silver cup from the tray and dipped his forked tongue into the steaming liquid. He sighed with pleasure, savoring the familiar taste.
Preston grinned as he accepted his own cup, filled with his favorite brand of wine. “I can’t imagine peace with a bevy of wives hanging about. What do you say, Sinbad? Would you retire to the jungle surrounded by six panther females?”
“I’d rather be roasted alive, sir. Our females prefer solitary lives without male interference unless they request a breeding rendezvous.” His eyes narrowed as he considered another idea. “I’ve heard that Gronklein females often serve as crew on battle drones. Perhaps your bevy of wives will lead a war party against Institute planets one day.”
“We never divulge our leaders’ future plans. If the Institute oversteps its authority, you can be sure Gronklein warriors will protect our planetary interests. Would you be opposed to a change of regime at headquarters?”
Preston and Sinbad exchanged meaningful glances but remained silent as they both sipped their respective drinks. Suddenly, the desk pulsed with a warning shade of red, and Preston swiped the surface as Felicity entered. She announced, “Sir, an Institute battle drone demands docking privileges and demands that we deliver Captain Ishtarek into their custody.”
Glancing first at Ishtarek and then at the mendilium crystals, Preston issued orders. “Sinbad, activate a team to handle slow-docking maneuvers. That should give us twenty minutes to spare. Felicity, help me empty this container and stow the valuable crystals into a tamper-proof safe.” He activated the comm and barked, “Send Cookie up here, pronto, with enough illicit delicacies to fill a container three-feet long by one-foot wide. Make sure the foodstuffs appeal to humans.”
March 18, 2016
“What-Ifs” of Creating Science-Fiction
Authors who delve into futuristic worlds to write Science-Fiction might start the process by considering “what if” questions. They speculate about scientific ideas and then ask how people in the future might be affected by new events. Of course action and adventure permeate the genre by writers who spin “space cowboy” stories. I believe that there is more to speculative fiction than spaceships and scary aliens in gunfights. I call my own type of work "science-fantasy" because futuristic skills might resemble magic even though the evolved talents are based in science.Recently television and movie producers flock to the “X-Men” idea of genetic mutations that create people with fantastic abilities without explaining the science behind the particular changes. This is understandable, ideas that sell are exploited. Previously Trekkies explored the universe with Captain Kirk and his crew, meeting humanoids on exotic planets and facing alien threats. Regardless of the current trend, wild settings and situations spring from the creative minds of futuristic writers.
My own science-fantasy series began when I contemplated a series of “what-ifs” relating to the pursuit of immortality. What if an intelligent species could “host” the minds of elders to retain knowledge and wisdom? What if human scientists invented equipment to “transfer” a mind into its clone and achieve unending life? What kind of future would these conditions generate? What kind of unintended consequences might develop? How do people react to the problems? How do they fight for control over their own lives?
Situation #1. A canine species on Earth develops intelligence and a complex social network through communication by telepathy. Ancestors of modern wolves and dogs formed into packs that worked together using expressions, body postures, and vocal signals to hunt prey and warn the group of danger. Mental abilities eventually progressed to enhance this communication, and formed an intelligent community of telepaths. They hosted dying members of the pack to preserve knowledge. What if human scientists discovered this ability and decided to exploit the animals to achieve human immortality? Survival of the species made it necessary for the pack to establish a new colony on another planet with the help of sympathetic human friends. Their story is told in “The Alphas, Prequel to “Howl of the Wolf”.
- Situation #2. Scientists develop “Transfer” of minds into clones.Organ transplant surgery developed into an ordinary method of saving lives, including the idea of cloning a human to obtain needed vital organs without rejection. An accident during a typical surgery promulgated a new invention that eliminated surgery. What if the human mind could be electronically transferred into its own clone? Four scientists on Earth developed Transfer and changed the trajectory of society. Their invention led to virtual slavery. Individuals were forced to work off debt to the Institute that handled the mundane work associated with the scientists’ technology. When the men running the Institute deemed the inventors dangerous to their monopoly of Transfer, the scientists needed to save their own lives by escaping.
Dr. Alexander was a telepath with strong empathy for his patients. By helping to develop Transfer, he eradicated disease and saved patients who suffered painful deaths. After learning of an assassination plot against him, Alexander fled from the Institute on the medical spaceship Zebulon with a crew led by Captain Donovan. Dr. Alexander soon discovered that each successful Transfer enhanced the talents of his patients, evolving into fantastic abilities. Their story of survival on the feudalistic planet Drako, aided by a society of telepathic wolves is told in the “Heirs to the Throne” trilogy.
The next series is coming:
Three other scientists were involved in the invention of Transfer. Dr. Jerome, Dr. Stewart, and Dr. Hartman each fled in different directions, seeking interesting societies that offered sanctuary. What if these men learn about a new threat to the human race? It becomes necessary for the four brightest minds in civilized space to band together once again to protect life. They cannot involve the Institute, a corrupt organization that controls government, for their own safety.
Who are these men? Where did they hide during the past three decades?
An expert in genetics, Dr. Jerome helped correct fatal birth defects in the clones of Transfer patients. Upon escaping from the Institute he took refuge on Lydia, a water-world developed by oceanographers to study aquatic species. Ninety percent of the world is covered by oceans and floating cities support the human population. The genetic talents of Dr. Jerome are employed to develop an aquatic humanoid species to dwell in underwater cities. He learns about the cataclysm that made it necessary to flood Lydia and stave off the Swarm, alien creatures who almost killed the beautiful planet.
A psychiatrist specializing in astral projection, Dr. Stewart settled on the desert planet called Klaatu. Robotics became the prime industry on the planet, using materials mined nearby to produce plasteele. Humans on Klaatu survive under a plasteele dome living in ultra-modern skyscrapers. With astral projection techniques Dr. Stewart teaches people to project their minds into the brains of robots. He believes the result will be similar to Transfer and give humans more choice. His work combines psychiatry and technology in a fashion that suits his meticulous temperament. He discovers that robot-human hybrids might be critical in saving humanity from the devastation caused by the Swarm.
An expert in artificial life-support systems, Dr. Hartman fled into the Dark Zone where he built a successful business servicing spaceships and trading in contraband. He is one part pirate and three parts mechanic, able to brawl with rowdy customers and flaunts the technical skills needed to design ground-breaking equipment. He owns and operates Space Station Kubrick, protected by a team of feline warriors with ninja skills that surprise unwise attackers. His life-support systems might tip the balance as the scientists join together to fight the Swarm.
More developments will be published in this blog. Click Science-Fantasy to look at the previous books. Take a journey with us into the stars.
���What-Ifs��� of Creating Science-Fiction
Authors who delve into futuristic worlds to write Science-Fiction might start the process by considering “what if” questions. They speculate about scientific ideas and then ask how people in the future might be affected by new events. Of course action and adventure permeate the genre by writers who spin “space cowboy” stories. I believe that there is more to speculative fiction than spaceships and scary aliens in gunfights. I call my own type of work "science-fantasy" because futuristic skills might resemble magic even though the evolved talents are based in science.Recently television and movie producers flock to the “X-Men” idea of genetic mutations that create people with fantastic abilities without explaining the science behind the particular changes. This is understandable, ideas that sell are exploited. Previously Trekkies explored the universe with Captain Kirk and his crew, meeting humanoids on exotic planets and facing alien threats. Regardless of the current trend, wild settings and situations spring from the creative minds of futuristic writers.
My own science-fantasy series began when I contemplated a series of “what-ifs” relating to the pursuit of immortality. What if an intelligent species could “host” the minds of elders to retain knowledge and wisdom? What if human scientists invented equipment to “transfer” a mind into its clone and achieve unending life? What kind of future would these conditions generate? What kind of unintended consequences might develop? How do people react to the problems? How do they fight for control over their own lives?
Situation #1. A canine species on Earth develops intelligence and a complex social network through communication by telepathy. Ancestors of modern wolves and dogs formed into packs that worked together using expressions, body postures, and vocal signals to hunt prey and warn the group of danger. Mental abilities eventually progressed to enhance this communication, and formed an intelligent community of telepaths. They hosted dying members of the pack to preserve knowledge. What if human scientists discovered this ability and decided to exploit the animals to achieve human immortality? Survival of the species made it necessary for the pack to establish a new colony on another planet with the help of sympathetic human friends. Their story is told in “The Alphas, Prequel to “Howl of the Wolf”.
- Situation #2. Scientists develop “Transfer” of minds into clones.Organ transplant surgery developed into an ordinary method of saving lives, including the idea of cloning a human to obtain needed vital organs without rejection. An accident during a typical surgery promulgated a new invention that eliminated surgery. What if the human mind could be electronically transferred into its own clone? Four scientists on Earth developed Transfer and changed the trajectory of society. Their invention led to virtual slavery. Individuals were forced to work off debt to the Institute that handled the mundane work associated with the scientists’ technology. When the men running the Institute deemed the inventors dangerous to their monopoly of Transfer, the scientists needed to save their own lives by escaping.
Dr. Alexander was a telepath with strong empathy for his patients. By helping to develop Transfer, he eradicated disease and saved patients who suffered painful deaths. After learning of an assassination plot against him, Alexander fled from the Institute on the medical spaceship Zebulon with a crew led by Captain Donovan. Dr. Alexander soon discovered that each successful Transfer enhanced the talents of his patients, evolving into fantastic abilities. Their story of survival on the feudalistic planet Drako, aided by a society of telepathic wolves is told in the “Heirs to the Throne” trilogy.
The next series is coming:
Three other scientists were involved in the invention of Transfer. Dr. Jerome, Dr. Stewart, and Dr. Hartman each fled in different directions, seeking interesting societies that offered sanctuary. What if these men learn about a new threat to the human race? It becomes necessary for the four brightest minds in civilized space to band together once again to protect life. They cannot involve the Institute, a corrupt organization that controls government, for their own safety.
Who are these men? Where did they hide during the past three decades?
An expert in genetics, Dr. Jerome helped correct fatal birth defects in the clones of Transfer patients. Upon escaping from the Institute he took refuge on Lydia, a water-world developed by oceanographers to study aquatic species. Ninety percent of the world is covered by oceans and floating cities support the human population. The genetic talents of Dr. Jerome are employed to develop an aquatic humanoid species to dwell in underwater cities. He learns about the cataclysm that made it necessary to flood Lydia and stave off the Swarm, alien creatures who almost killed the beautiful planet.
A psychiatrist specializing in astral projection, Dr. Stewart settled on the desert planet called Klaatu. Robotics became the prime industry on the planet, using materials mined nearby to produce plasteele. Humans on Klaatu survive under a plasteele dome living in ultra-modern skyscrapers. With astral projection techniques Dr. Stewart teaches people to project their minds into the brains of robots. He believes the result will be similar to Transfer and give humans more choice. His work combines psychiatry and technology in a fashion that suits his meticulous temperament. He discovers that robot-human hybrids might be critical in saving humanity from the devastation caused by the Swarm.
An expert in artificial life-support systems, Dr. Hartman fled into the Dark Zone where he built a successful business servicing spaceships and trading in contraband. He is one part pirate and three parts mechanic, able to brawl with rowdy customers and flaunts the technical skills needed to design ground-breaking equipment. He owns and operates Space Station Kubrick, protected by a team of feline warriors with ninja skills that surprise unwise attackers. His life-support systems might tip the balance as the scientists join together to fight the Swarm.
More developments will be published in this blog. Click Science-Fantasy to look at the previous books. Take a journey with us into the stars.
The "What-Ifs" of Creating Science-Fiction
Authors who delve into futuristic worlds to write Science-Fiction might start the process by considering “what if” questions. They speculate about scientific ideas and then ask how people in the future might be affected by new events. Of course action and adventure permeate the genre by writers who spin “space cowboy” stories. I believe that there is more to speculative fiction than spaceships and scary aliens in gunfights. I call my own type of work "science-fantasy" because futuristic skills might resemble magic even though the evolved talents are based in science.
Recently television and movie producers flock to the “X-Men” idea of genetic mutations that create people with fantastic abilities without explaining the science behind the particular changes. This is understandable, ideas that sell are exploited. Previously Trekkies explored the universe with Captain Kirk and his crew, meeting humanoids on exotic planets and facing alien threats. Regardless of the current trend, wild settings and situations spring from the creative minds of futuristic writers.
My own science-fantasy series began when I contemplated a series of “what-ifs” relating to the pursuit of immortality. What if an intelligent species could “host” the minds of elders to retain knowledge and wisdom? What if human scientists invented equipment to “transfer” a mind into its clone and achieve unending life? What kind of future would these conditions generate? What kind of unintended consequences might develop? How do people react to the problems? How do they fight for control over their own lives?
Situation #1. A canine species on Earth develops intelligence and a complex social network through communication by telepathy.
Ancestors of modern wolves and dogs formed into packs that worked together using expressions, body postures, and vocal signals to hunt prey and warn the group of danger. Mental abilities eventually progressed to enhance this communication, and formed an intelligent community of telepaths. They hosted dying members of the pack to preserve knowledge. What if human scientists discovered this ability and decided to exploit the animals to achieve human immortality? Survival of the species made it necessary for the pack to establish a new colony on another planet with the help of sympathetic human friends. Their story is told in “The Alphas, Prequel to “Howl of the Wolf”.
Situation #2. Scientists develop “Transfer” of minds into clones.
Organ transplant surgery developed into an ordinary method of saving lives, including the idea of cloning a human to obtain needed vital organs without rejection. An accident during a typical surgery promulgated a new invention that eliminated surgery. What if the human mind could be electronically transferred into its own clone? Four scientists on Earth developed Transfer and changed the trajectory of society. Their invention led to virtual slavery. Individuals were forced to work off debt to the Institute that handled the mundane work associated with the scientists’ technology. When the men running the Institute deemed the inventors dangerous to their monopoly of Transfer, the scientists needed to save their own lives by escaping.
Dr. Alexander was a telepath with strong empathy for his patients. By helping to develop Transfer, he eradicated disease and saved patients who suffered painful deaths. After learning of an assassination plot against him, Alexander fled from the Institute on the medical spaceship Zebulon with a crew led by Captain Donovan. Dr. Alexander soon discovered that each successful Transfer enhanced the talents of his patients, evolving into fantastic abilities. Their story of survival on the feudalistic planet Drako, aided by a society of telepathic wolves is told in the “Heirs to the Throne” trilogy.
The next series is coming:
Three other scientists were involved in the invention of Transfer. Dr. Jerome, Dr. Stewart, and Dr. Hartman each fled in different directions, seeking interesting societies that offered sanctuary. What if these men learn about a new threat to the human race? It becomes necessary for the four brightest minds in civilized space to band together once again to protect life. They cannot involve the Institute, a corrupt organization that controls government, for their own safety.
Who are these men? Where did they hide for the past three decades?
An expert in genetics, Dr. Jerome helped correct fatal birth defects in the clones of Transfer patients. Upon escaping from the Institute he took refuge on Lydia, a water-world developed by oceanographers to study aquatic species. Ninety percent of the world is covered by oceans and floating cities support the human population. The genetic talents of Dr. Jerome are employed to develop an aquatic humanoid species to dwell in underwater cities. He learns about the cataclysm that made it necessary to flood Lydia and stave off the Swarm, alien creatures who almost killed the beautiful planet.
A psychiatrist specializing in astral projection, Dr. Stewart settled on the desert planet called Klaatu. Robotics became the prime industry on the planet, using materials mined nearby to produce plasteele. Humans on Klaatu survive under a plasteele dome living in ultra-modern skyscrapers. With astral projection techniques Dr. Stewart’s teaches people to project their minds into the brains of robots. The method used is similar to Transfer. His work combines psychiatry and technology in a fashion that suits his meticulous temperament. He discovers that robots might be critical in saving humanity from the devastation caused by the Swarm.
An expert in artificial life-support systems, Dr. Hartman fled into the Dark Zone where he built a successful business servicing spaceships and trades in contraband. He is one part pirate and three parts mechanic, able to brawl with rowdy customers and flaunt technical skills needed to design ground-breaking equipment in a heartbeat. He operates Space Station Kubrick protected by a team of feline warriors with ninja skills that surprise unwise attackers. His life-support systems might tip the balance as they fight the Swarm.
More developments will be published in this blog. Click Science-Fantasy to look at the previous books. Take a journey with us into the stars.
March 6, 2016
Get into the Mood of Writing
fter releasing a new book, it seems difficult to change gears and start working on a new story. I find focusing on a different genre frustrating. I realize that I could stick with the same genre, book after book, but that prospect seems boring and other characters start grumbling that I’m not paying attention to them. How does a fiction writer enter the world inhabited by characters in different genres? My process begins by reading favorite authors in the genre I plan to write, the people who inspired me to write that kind of narrative. While reading I focus on noticing tricks that the author uses to build the ambience or capture the sensations from the world they describe. How do successful authors create their magic?
My favorite science-fantasy author is Anne McCaffrey, who introduced dragons to readers worldwide and sparked a generation of new writers. I became too impatient to wait for a new episode to be published. My imagination took over, and I built a world of my own to occupy while waiting for Ms. McCaffrey to finish another fantastic book. I doesn’t matter how many times I read her “Dragon Riders of Pern” series, I’m still spellbound by the story.
While tapping my foot, waiting for new books, I discovered Marion Zimmer Bradley, another author who satisfied my longing to inhabit another world. Her “Darkover” series gave me hours of reading pleasure which generated more ideas of my own. Then C.J. Cherryh’s “Chanur” series took me into space with intelligent lionesses, scary insects, and a myriad of other humanoid creatures to battle.
Of course, I’m not devoted to writing science-fantasy. An idea for a mystery-adventure forms in my mind, so I switch gears and start reading mystery novels. My mystery habit began with Agatha Christie. I once joined a club that delivered her books monthly, but that left weeks in between shipments without a reading fix. Arthur Conan Doyle filled the gap. I felt astounded that his tales were not always focused on murder. My mystery habit did not stop with these authors; I soon found other incredible writers to appreciate. I prefer cozy mysteries, books that refrain from blush-worthy scenes or gory descriptions, so my own writing tends to stay in the cozy realm.
While working on my recent mystery-adventure GOLDEN LEGACY, I needed to know more about the language and atmosphere of 1888 to bring Ginny to life. I started reading historical mysteries and found that “Steam-Punk” novels particularly spurred my imagination. I relished the rich language and clever inventions described on the page.
I assume that other authors find ways to “get in the mood” of the worlds they create. So, what helps you build the world you write? Do you view photos, read books, watch interesting videos? I’d love to hear what inspires each of you. Please give us a glimpse into setting the mood for your writing.
January 31, 2016
What Makes Us American?
Certain events become etched in our memories. I remember sitting in a high school classroom in Utah when I learned that President Kennedy was shot and how the country mourned as a whole during that Thanksgiving holiday. I watched a small black and white television next to my new husband in an Italian cafe when Americans first stepped foot on the moon (we took a three-month camping honeymoon through Europe). I remember that we felt so proud of our country and a bit homesick. We sighed with relief when we arrived back on American soil and felt grateful that this is our country.Americans cheer different sports teams, argue heatedly about different political views, and speak with slightly different accents, but we are all proud Americans. This country regularly changes leadership peacefully without firing guns and spilling the blood of fellow citizens. Only once in our history have states fought on a battlefield against each other, and we learned a valuable lesson from that bloodshed.
So what makes us all American? I believe that faith in our Constitutional Democracy generates a common pride and sense of security in this great country. We cross state borders without passports, openly trade with each other without tariffs, and exercise our right to vote on an equal basis.
When Corey and I took early retirement, we bought an RV and set out to explore this country state-by-state. We were struck by how much we felt at home in every state where we camped, enjoyed exploring the beautiful places that make America special, and felt privileged to learn more about our common American history.
My daughter lives in Williamsburg, Virginia and hoped to join the Daughters of the American Revolution. She needed photographic proof about her ancestors and gave us a list of cemeteries to visit. We took photos of ancestor headstones for her application and learned about our families. We had no idea how many of our ancestors fought in the American Revolution and in the Civil War.
As we traveled the path our ancestors took more than two hundred years apart, we felt so close to them. It was humbling to see small American flags that marked the graves of our brave ancestors. My husband learned about the path his family took from the East Coast to the Midwest, and I felt surprised to discover my own family crossed paths with his along the way. Tears filled our eyes as we read the dates on headstones of ten family members who died during an epidemic.
I learned that two of my female ancestors were part of the Salem Witch trials, one an accused and one an accuser. What surprised me more was that grandchildren of both women forgot the pain and anguish of those terrible trials and got married. Enemies became a family in the same way the country healed after the Civil War.
It is important that every citizen protects our liberty by studying the candidates (both local and national) and exercising the right to vote. Our ancestors spilled their blood to give us this privilege, so we must protect it faithfully in their memory.
January 25, 2016
Author L.R.W. Lee's Newest Release!
Vision of the Griffin’s Heart, Andy Smithson, Book 5
Four years ago, Andy Smithson discovered he is the Chosen one to break a 500-yr-old curse plaguing the land of Oomaldee when he unexpectedly and mysteriously found himself there. To do so, he must collect ingredients for a magical potion. Thus far he has gathered the scale of a red dragon, venom from a giant serpent, a unicorn’s horn, and the tail feather of a phoenix. Now he must ask a griffin for one of its talons. There’s just one problem…humans have poached griffin treasure, causing these mythical creatures to attack on sight.
Complicating matters, the evil Abaddon, sovereign of Oomaldee’s northern neighbor, is turning more and more citizens into zolt in his ongoing campaign of terror as he sets in motion the final steps of his plan to conquer the land. Things really start to heat up in book five!
If you loved Harry Potter, you’ll love the Andy Smithson series chalk full of mythical creatures, newly invented animals like zolt, herewolves, and therewolves, a complex plot with evolving characters, and positive themes including responsibility, diligence, dignity, friendship and more.
Purchase Kindle and Paperback
THE BUZZ
5 Stars! - “A marvelous book in a great series!” – Erik Weibel (Age 14) This Kid Reviews Books Blog
“Readers of this series have come to anticipate a host of challenges, intense battles, and on an epic scale. In Vision of the Griffin’s Heart, you won’t be disappointed. For lovers of fantasy, I consider it a must read.” – Richard Weatherly, Author
“One of the admirable qualities I like about the entire series is seeing Andy’s growth from a self-absorbed kid to a more thoughtful teen as he learns how to deal with the various crises which face him, all the while knowing that the future may hold unpleasant consequences. The watchword for Vision of the Griffin's Heart is “courage.” – Wayne Walker, Home School Book Review
About the Author:L. R. W. Lee credits her love of fantasy with her introduction to C. S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. Later on, she enjoyed the complex world of Middle Earth brought to life by J. R. R. Tolkien in Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. The multiple dimensions of the worlds mixed with a layer of meaning, captivated her and made her desire to invent Young Adult Fantasy and Epic Fantasy worlds others could get lost in, but also take meaning away from. More recently, L. R. W. Lee has found inspiration from J. K. Rowling and her Harry Potter series as well as Brandon Mull and his best selling Fablehaven, Beyonders and Five Kingdoms series.
L. R. W. Lee writes to teach her readers principles that can transform their lives – overcoming frustration, impatience, fear and more. She also shows why responsibility, diligence and dignity are the keys to true success in life. She lives in scenic Austin, TX with her husband. Their daughter is a Computer Engineer for Microsoft and their son serves in the Air Force.
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OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES:
Blast of the Dragon’s Fury (Andy Smithson, Book One) ebook is FREE. Download a copy at Amazon, Smashwords, Kobo, Google, B&N.
Listen to the FREE podcast of Book 1 by L. R. W. Lee on Podiobooks.
Book one is also available in paperback.
Venom of the Serpent’s Cunning (Andy Smithson, Book Two) is available in Kindle and Paperback. Download the professionally recorded audiobook at Amazon
It’s only $1.99 if you download the eBook first…Savings of $16!
Disgrace of the Unicorn’s Honor (Andy Smithson, Book Three) is available in Kindle and Paperback.
Resurrection of the Phoenix’s Grace (Andy Smithson, Book Four) is available in Kindle and Paperback.
She's a Mystery and Science Fiction Writer!
You've heard of split personalities, well, Diane Rapp spends part of her time sailing the high seas to solve mysteries. When she feels seasick, she travels to the planet Drako to check in with her fri
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