Toby Neighbors's Blog: Tales Of A Storyteller
September 16, 2022
Space Fever Sample
Here's a sample from my new book Space Fever. You can preorder now on Amazon for only 99¢
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BF4DHVK7
Chapter 1
“Here’s the receipt for your one-time payment, Chief,” the General said, handing Easy his certificate of service. The senior officer seemed bored as he wrapped up the retirement ceremony. “Thank you for your service. You are officially dismissed.”
Master Chief Edgar Zacchaeus “Easy” McCoy took the flimsy paper in his calloused hand. He was more used to holding weapons than receipts, and he didn’t bother looking at it. He saluted the general out of respect for the Galactic Navy, not for the officer in front of him. The bored general might not think much of Easy ending a thirty-year career, but it was important, and Easy wanted to do it right. The general waved a hand in the air. It was the kind of lazy, undisciplined salute that a drill sergeant would have thrown a fit about. And much like the rest of the ceremony, if it could be called that, it was done with halfhearted disinterest. Easy turned on his heel and left the office. He was in full dress uniform with a chest full of medals earned in combat. He was used to being knee-deep in mud and blood, but he doubted the General had ever been in real danger or suffered more than a paper cut in his career.
Easy walked down a short hall, through a waiting room, then out into the concourse of the Galactic Navy shipyard. His rucksack was packed full of his belongings, and a heavy crate on tiny wheels contained the only possessions that Easy had acquired in the three decades since graduating high school and joining the Navy. He stuck the receipt in his pocket without looking at it, picked up the rucksack and slung it over one shoulder, then took the handle of his hardcase and started walking.
There was a line at the central dispatch station. Easy waited his turn, and when he finally reached the stressed-out petty officer processing the Navy personnel passing through the shipyard, he handed his official ID to the overweight man.
“Master Chief McCoy,” the officer said, finally looking up from his console directly at Easy. “Retired! Congratulations, Chief. You’ve got full privileges. We’ll find you a spot on any transport as long as it isn’t on a combat tour. Where do you want to go?”
“Home,” Easy said simply. “Esbe Four.”
“The Skara Brea system,” the officer commented, focusing back on his terminal. “If you’re ready to leave now, there’s a cargo ship leaving for that system in one hour, down on Bravo deck, gate 39.”
“That works,” Easy said. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, no problem. Enjoy your retirement, Master Chief. Don’t spend that pension payment all in one place.”
“Copy that,” Easy said, taking his ID back and heading for the lift that would take him down to Bravo deck.
The shipyard was essentially a giant space station. Part dock, part administration facility, it serviced the massive interstellar warships of the Galactic Navy, as well as the thousands of cargo ships that helped supply humanity’s military effort across hundreds of systems. Easy rode the open-air gravity lift down Bravo deck. It was essentially a tube with its own gravity generators. Easy stepped off into open space, holding his rucksack with one hand, and his rolling hardcase with the other. He gently floated down past Delta and Charlie decks until he reached Bravo, where he managed to step past the invisible barrier back into normal gravity without losing his balance.
Long docking arms formed the gate, and Easy also had a long walk to reach the ship he would be riding on. But after thirty years in the military, Easy was accustomed to tight schedules and showing up on time. He moved down the open concourse with purpose and reached his gate in plenty of time to make his flight. He slipped his ID card into an automated reader. It chimed, opening the door to the docking arm. A long, narrow hallway led to an airlock that opened onto the crew section of a Class D cargo ship.
“You McCoy?” a crewman in dirty coveralls asked.
Easy nodded.
“There’s a lounge down that way. You can rest there while we finish loading and make our maneuvers.”
“Thanks,” Easy said. “What’s the ETA for Esbe Four?”
“We’re taking a load of alloy girders for the space station in the Skara Brea system. You’ll have to catch a shuttle to wherever you’re going from there. We’re four and a half hours from the jump point. That’s all I know for sure.”
“Thanks,” Easy said, adjusting his rucksack that was slung over his shoulder. He started for the lounge.
The ship was exactly what he expected: small, cramped, dingy, and on the verge of being worn-out. Cargo ships were working platforms where crew lived for months at a time while they ferried goods across the galaxy. Easy was a former RAKE or Reconnaissance, Acquisition, and Kinetic Engagement specialist, a Special Forces Operator who was used to spending months hidden on backwater planets when on mission. He could find a way to survive in almost any environment. Many naval vessels were a mix of pristine and practical. And he had spent most of his military career on the lower decks where function was king, and form was whatever happened to be the most practical in a given space.
The lounge was a mix of dining room and passenger type spaces. Easy took a seat on a padded chair that was bolted against the deck and the wall. It wasn’t going anywhere. Right next to the chair was a rack built into the wall itself. His hardcase slid into a slot under the rack, and his rucksack went on top. There were simple bungee cords with S hooks to batten his luggage down.
Once his gear was carefully stowed, Easy pulled out a Cherry iLink Z from the inside pocket of his dress uniform jacket. The device was new, purchased to replace his military grade Personal Computer Link, or PCL as they were called in the Navy. He powered the iLink on and let it sync with the ship’s network. From there he could download private messages and access the ship’s destination log that showed how long he would be in transit.
“Forty-four hours,” he whistled quietly to himself, thinking he should get comfortable for the long trip to the Skara Brea system.
He pulled his one set of civilian clothes out from the top of his rucksack and stepped into the little bathroom across from the lounge. By the time he finished changing there was another passenger on board, a tall and lean man with a black pointed beard. The passenger didn’t look up as Easy walked past and packed his neatly folded dress uniform into his rucksack. The man seemed obsessed with his PCL. But it was only natural to glance up when someone came into a room. To a former soldier used to assessing every situation for danger, the failure of the man with the pointed beard to look up was a red flag. But all Easy could do was wait to see how the situation played out.
Chapter 2
“Kitt McCoy, you old man. What the hell happened to you?”
“Did your parents have any children who lived?” Kitt asked.
“Not a one,” Hutch McCoy said as Kitt stood up from the table.
They hugged. Not the brief, back-slap type hug most men made, but a genuine embrace. The two siblings hadn’t seen each other in a very long time. The bar was one of several at the lavish resort, and wasn’t crowded yet. It was mid-afternoon after all, and the Royal Telmus on Esbe Four was a high-end casino and resort on one of the planet’s many islands. The bars and restaurants would get noisier once the sun went down and people came in from playing out in the sand and surf. Fortunately, there were only a few patrons in the establishment at two o’clock in the afternoon.
“You been waiting long?” Hutch asked.
“Not even long enough to finish my beer,” Kitt said. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to be seen. When does Zacchaeus get here?”
“I don’t know, he hasn’t made contact yet. Probably a couple of days.”
The two men sat down. A serving droid brought Hutch a beer. It was cold and frothy, if not very flavorful. Hutch took a drink, then wiped the foam from his mustache with the back of his hand.
“You seen Big Candy yet?” Hutch asked.
“He left me a message. Said he was working, if you believe that, and he’ll meet us for dinner.”
“Big never worked a day in his life,” Hutch said.
“The kid always had the golden touch,” Kitt agreed.
“He’s not a kid anymore, none of us are. It’s been twenty years since dad passed, can you believe it?
Kitt shook his head and tried not to let a gloomy sense of depression settle over him. He hated thinking about his age and the fact that perhaps his best days were behind him. But the older he got, the more difficult it became to face the reality of his life. Depression had become a regular battle he had to fight, but he didn’t want his brothers to know.
“I’ve got some news,” Hutch said.
He was grinning, his thick mustache hiding his upper lip, but his smile was wide and bright. Kitt noticed the deep lines in his brother’s forehead and around his eyes, yet he still had the features and mannerisms Kitt remembered from when they were kids. They were all approaching an age when people would begin to give them senior citizen discounts. If they were wealthy men they would have already paid for age reduction therapy. Kitt was fifty-four years old by galactic standards. When he looked in the mirror he sometimes didn’t recognize the older man looking back at him. He was exactly nine months and thirteen days from crossing what pilots called the MRA, mandatory retirement age. He wouldn’t lose his license, but no company would hire him to pilot their ships any longer. He would have to give up flying, and he wasn’t sure what he would do.
“What’s your news?” Kitt asked after another sip of his beer.
“I found something,” he replied, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the tabletop. “I can’t verify it, but it looks legit.”
“What?” Kitt asked.
“Do you remember Dad’s obsession?”
“The quartzite mines? Sure.”
“What if I told you I found a way through the Fanning Belt?”
Kitt leaned back in his chair, not sure if his brother was pranking him or being honest. The Fanning Belt was a massive asteroid field in the Harpazo system that orbited a young star. It was located on the edge of the galactic arm, right on the tip of the long spiral, and was completely unstable. The matter in the Fanning Belt was in the process of forming a planet. It just needed a few million more years of heat and pressure, but it was at an ideal stage for mining quartzite. The only problem was getting through the Fanning Belt. Rumor had it that someone had successfully plotted a course through the huge asteroids, but mining quartzite crystals was highly regulated by the Galactic Union’s Natural Resources Bureau. Getting permits took years and millions of credits. Small independent mining operations had been squeezed out and forced to sell their ores illegally on the black market.
Eustace Melchizedek McCoy had had four sons, and he told them stories when they were children of finding a passage through the Fanning Belt and mining quartzite crystals. They were crucial to building dark matter coupling isolators, better known as perpetual motion engines that could power a starship by pulling in free isotopes from space and converting them to usable energy. The technology was in use on large government spacecraft, but quartzite was incredibly expensive. Most ships relied on fusion generators that required large amounts of hydrogen. Creating a tiny sun to power a starship was effective, but required a lot of maintenance to keep the reactor from burning up the ship, or compromising the hull, which was just as deadly. A person who could mine quartzite could make a fortune on the black market, as long as they didn’t get caught.
“It’s just an urban legend,” Kitt said. “Dad knew that. Stop pulling my leg.”
Hutch shook his head. “I found it.”
“What are you saying?” Kitt asked. “You found quartzite crystals?”
“No, of course not,” Hutch said. “This is even better.”
“You found a way through the Fanning Belt?”
“Keep your voice down,” Hutch cautioned. “You never know who’s listening.”
Kitt leaned forward and looked his brother in the eye. “You’re not lying, are you?”
“Like I said, I can’t prove it. Not yet, but…”
He let the thought hang between them. Kitt didn’t need to be prompted. They both hadn’t forgotten their father’s stories. The old man had dreamed of finding a way through the asteroid field. He talked about getting a ship and crew together to mine for quartzite, but as Kitt got older he realized it wouldn’t be so simple.
“The Fanning Belt is in the Contested Zone,” Kitt said. “Even if you had a reliable course through the asteroids, how would you get past the blockade?”
“We would need a really good pilot,” Hutch said, flashing his big grin. “Do you know anyone?”
“Shut up, you old fool.”
“Hey, it might be possible. If we had a ship, we might make it through. Just one run would be enough to make us all rich men.”
“Or dead men,” Kitt argued. “And we don’t have a ship. You can’t be serious about this?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Hutch said. “It was a long trip from the Mardux system.”
“Tell me what you found,” Kitt relented, tapping an icon on the table between them to order more drinks. “And don’t leave anything out.”
I hope you're ready to catch Space Fever! Coming September 27, 2022.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BF4DHVK7
Chapter 1
“Here’s the receipt for your one-time payment, Chief,” the General said, handing Easy his certificate of service. The senior officer seemed bored as he wrapped up the retirement ceremony. “Thank you for your service. You are officially dismissed.”
Master Chief Edgar Zacchaeus “Easy” McCoy took the flimsy paper in his calloused hand. He was more used to holding weapons than receipts, and he didn’t bother looking at it. He saluted the general out of respect for the Galactic Navy, not for the officer in front of him. The bored general might not think much of Easy ending a thirty-year career, but it was important, and Easy wanted to do it right. The general waved a hand in the air. It was the kind of lazy, undisciplined salute that a drill sergeant would have thrown a fit about. And much like the rest of the ceremony, if it could be called that, it was done with halfhearted disinterest. Easy turned on his heel and left the office. He was in full dress uniform with a chest full of medals earned in combat. He was used to being knee-deep in mud and blood, but he doubted the General had ever been in real danger or suffered more than a paper cut in his career.
Easy walked down a short hall, through a waiting room, then out into the concourse of the Galactic Navy shipyard. His rucksack was packed full of his belongings, and a heavy crate on tiny wheels contained the only possessions that Easy had acquired in the three decades since graduating high school and joining the Navy. He stuck the receipt in his pocket without looking at it, picked up the rucksack and slung it over one shoulder, then took the handle of his hardcase and started walking.
There was a line at the central dispatch station. Easy waited his turn, and when he finally reached the stressed-out petty officer processing the Navy personnel passing through the shipyard, he handed his official ID to the overweight man.
“Master Chief McCoy,” the officer said, finally looking up from his console directly at Easy. “Retired! Congratulations, Chief. You’ve got full privileges. We’ll find you a spot on any transport as long as it isn’t on a combat tour. Where do you want to go?”
“Home,” Easy said simply. “Esbe Four.”
“The Skara Brea system,” the officer commented, focusing back on his terminal. “If you’re ready to leave now, there’s a cargo ship leaving for that system in one hour, down on Bravo deck, gate 39.”
“That works,” Easy said. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, no problem. Enjoy your retirement, Master Chief. Don’t spend that pension payment all in one place.”
“Copy that,” Easy said, taking his ID back and heading for the lift that would take him down to Bravo deck.
The shipyard was essentially a giant space station. Part dock, part administration facility, it serviced the massive interstellar warships of the Galactic Navy, as well as the thousands of cargo ships that helped supply humanity’s military effort across hundreds of systems. Easy rode the open-air gravity lift down Bravo deck. It was essentially a tube with its own gravity generators. Easy stepped off into open space, holding his rucksack with one hand, and his rolling hardcase with the other. He gently floated down past Delta and Charlie decks until he reached Bravo, where he managed to step past the invisible barrier back into normal gravity without losing his balance.
Long docking arms formed the gate, and Easy also had a long walk to reach the ship he would be riding on. But after thirty years in the military, Easy was accustomed to tight schedules and showing up on time. He moved down the open concourse with purpose and reached his gate in plenty of time to make his flight. He slipped his ID card into an automated reader. It chimed, opening the door to the docking arm. A long, narrow hallway led to an airlock that opened onto the crew section of a Class D cargo ship.
“You McCoy?” a crewman in dirty coveralls asked.
Easy nodded.
“There’s a lounge down that way. You can rest there while we finish loading and make our maneuvers.”
“Thanks,” Easy said. “What’s the ETA for Esbe Four?”
“We’re taking a load of alloy girders for the space station in the Skara Brea system. You’ll have to catch a shuttle to wherever you’re going from there. We’re four and a half hours from the jump point. That’s all I know for sure.”
“Thanks,” Easy said, adjusting his rucksack that was slung over his shoulder. He started for the lounge.
The ship was exactly what he expected: small, cramped, dingy, and on the verge of being worn-out. Cargo ships were working platforms where crew lived for months at a time while they ferried goods across the galaxy. Easy was a former RAKE or Reconnaissance, Acquisition, and Kinetic Engagement specialist, a Special Forces Operator who was used to spending months hidden on backwater planets when on mission. He could find a way to survive in almost any environment. Many naval vessels were a mix of pristine and practical. And he had spent most of his military career on the lower decks where function was king, and form was whatever happened to be the most practical in a given space.
The lounge was a mix of dining room and passenger type spaces. Easy took a seat on a padded chair that was bolted against the deck and the wall. It wasn’t going anywhere. Right next to the chair was a rack built into the wall itself. His hardcase slid into a slot under the rack, and his rucksack went on top. There were simple bungee cords with S hooks to batten his luggage down.
Once his gear was carefully stowed, Easy pulled out a Cherry iLink Z from the inside pocket of his dress uniform jacket. The device was new, purchased to replace his military grade Personal Computer Link, or PCL as they were called in the Navy. He powered the iLink on and let it sync with the ship’s network. From there he could download private messages and access the ship’s destination log that showed how long he would be in transit.
“Forty-four hours,” he whistled quietly to himself, thinking he should get comfortable for the long trip to the Skara Brea system.
He pulled his one set of civilian clothes out from the top of his rucksack and stepped into the little bathroom across from the lounge. By the time he finished changing there was another passenger on board, a tall and lean man with a black pointed beard. The passenger didn’t look up as Easy walked past and packed his neatly folded dress uniform into his rucksack. The man seemed obsessed with his PCL. But it was only natural to glance up when someone came into a room. To a former soldier used to assessing every situation for danger, the failure of the man with the pointed beard to look up was a red flag. But all Easy could do was wait to see how the situation played out.
Chapter 2
“Kitt McCoy, you old man. What the hell happened to you?”
“Did your parents have any children who lived?” Kitt asked.
“Not a one,” Hutch McCoy said as Kitt stood up from the table.
They hugged. Not the brief, back-slap type hug most men made, but a genuine embrace. The two siblings hadn’t seen each other in a very long time. The bar was one of several at the lavish resort, and wasn’t crowded yet. It was mid-afternoon after all, and the Royal Telmus on Esbe Four was a high-end casino and resort on one of the planet’s many islands. The bars and restaurants would get noisier once the sun went down and people came in from playing out in the sand and surf. Fortunately, there were only a few patrons in the establishment at two o’clock in the afternoon.
“You been waiting long?” Hutch asked.
“Not even long enough to finish my beer,” Kitt said. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to be seen. When does Zacchaeus get here?”
“I don’t know, he hasn’t made contact yet. Probably a couple of days.”
The two men sat down. A serving droid brought Hutch a beer. It was cold and frothy, if not very flavorful. Hutch took a drink, then wiped the foam from his mustache with the back of his hand.
“You seen Big Candy yet?” Hutch asked.
“He left me a message. Said he was working, if you believe that, and he’ll meet us for dinner.”
“Big never worked a day in his life,” Hutch said.
“The kid always had the golden touch,” Kitt agreed.
“He’s not a kid anymore, none of us are. It’s been twenty years since dad passed, can you believe it?
Kitt shook his head and tried not to let a gloomy sense of depression settle over him. He hated thinking about his age and the fact that perhaps his best days were behind him. But the older he got, the more difficult it became to face the reality of his life. Depression had become a regular battle he had to fight, but he didn’t want his brothers to know.
“I’ve got some news,” Hutch said.
He was grinning, his thick mustache hiding his upper lip, but his smile was wide and bright. Kitt noticed the deep lines in his brother’s forehead and around his eyes, yet he still had the features and mannerisms Kitt remembered from when they were kids. They were all approaching an age when people would begin to give them senior citizen discounts. If they were wealthy men they would have already paid for age reduction therapy. Kitt was fifty-four years old by galactic standards. When he looked in the mirror he sometimes didn’t recognize the older man looking back at him. He was exactly nine months and thirteen days from crossing what pilots called the MRA, mandatory retirement age. He wouldn’t lose his license, but no company would hire him to pilot their ships any longer. He would have to give up flying, and he wasn’t sure what he would do.
“What’s your news?” Kitt asked after another sip of his beer.
“I found something,” he replied, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the tabletop. “I can’t verify it, but it looks legit.”
“What?” Kitt asked.
“Do you remember Dad’s obsession?”
“The quartzite mines? Sure.”
“What if I told you I found a way through the Fanning Belt?”
Kitt leaned back in his chair, not sure if his brother was pranking him or being honest. The Fanning Belt was a massive asteroid field in the Harpazo system that orbited a young star. It was located on the edge of the galactic arm, right on the tip of the long spiral, and was completely unstable. The matter in the Fanning Belt was in the process of forming a planet. It just needed a few million more years of heat and pressure, but it was at an ideal stage for mining quartzite. The only problem was getting through the Fanning Belt. Rumor had it that someone had successfully plotted a course through the huge asteroids, but mining quartzite crystals was highly regulated by the Galactic Union’s Natural Resources Bureau. Getting permits took years and millions of credits. Small independent mining operations had been squeezed out and forced to sell their ores illegally on the black market.
Eustace Melchizedek McCoy had had four sons, and he told them stories when they were children of finding a passage through the Fanning Belt and mining quartzite crystals. They were crucial to building dark matter coupling isolators, better known as perpetual motion engines that could power a starship by pulling in free isotopes from space and converting them to usable energy. The technology was in use on large government spacecraft, but quartzite was incredibly expensive. Most ships relied on fusion generators that required large amounts of hydrogen. Creating a tiny sun to power a starship was effective, but required a lot of maintenance to keep the reactor from burning up the ship, or compromising the hull, which was just as deadly. A person who could mine quartzite could make a fortune on the black market, as long as they didn’t get caught.
“It’s just an urban legend,” Kitt said. “Dad knew that. Stop pulling my leg.”
Hutch shook his head. “I found it.”
“What are you saying?” Kitt asked. “You found quartzite crystals?”
“No, of course not,” Hutch said. “This is even better.”
“You found a way through the Fanning Belt?”
“Keep your voice down,” Hutch cautioned. “You never know who’s listening.”
Kitt leaned forward and looked his brother in the eye. “You’re not lying, are you?”
“Like I said, I can’t prove it. Not yet, but…”
He let the thought hang between them. Kitt didn’t need to be prompted. They both hadn’t forgotten their father’s stories. The old man had dreamed of finding a way through the asteroid field. He talked about getting a ship and crew together to mine for quartzite, but as Kitt got older he realized it wouldn’t be so simple.
“The Fanning Belt is in the Contested Zone,” Kitt said. “Even if you had a reliable course through the asteroids, how would you get past the blockade?”
“We would need a really good pilot,” Hutch said, flashing his big grin. “Do you know anyone?”
“Shut up, you old fool.”
“Hey, it might be possible. If we had a ship, we might make it through. Just one run would be enough to make us all rich men.”
“Or dead men,” Kitt argued. “And we don’t have a ship. You can’t be serious about this?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Hutch said. “It was a long trip from the Mardux system.”
“Tell me what you found,” Kitt relented, tapping an icon on the table between them to order more drinks. “And don’t leave anything out.”
I hope you're ready to catch Space Fever! Coming September 27, 2022.
October 18, 2020
Merlin Appears
Merlin glided through the air, over the great salt marshes that spread across the border of the southern kingdom. In his falcon form, he could travel much faster than any horse and attract less notice too. The bird’s keen eyes saw everything below, from the wolves slogging through the marshes, to the poor wretches that tried to live in the blighted lands.
Eventually, even wizards grew weary. Merlin began to search for a dry place to spend the night, safe from the unsavory creatures that prowled the salt marshes once the sun went down. He selected a towering pine tree, and circled as he descended, searching for any sign of predators. After choosing a sturdy looking branch, he landed. As a falcon, his powerful talons could hold fast to the stout bough through the night. The sun was setting and Merlin was tired. He raised one darkly feathered wing, tucked his head beneath it, and was soon asleep.
The smoke woke him. The smell made his stomach rumble in an almost angry fashion. Food had not been a priority, and while he could hunt and kill as a falcon, he did not savor the taste of raw meat the way other birds did. The smell of smoked fish on the other hand, was something the wizard did crave. With a leap, he was in the air again, spreading powerful wings and circling the small hill where the tree stood. The ground there was less wet, but not completely dry either. A tiny fire had been kindled, and two hooded figures huddled near the golden light.
Merlin dropped toward the ground and reverted to his human form just as his feet met the earth. He stood straight, stretching the muscles in his back without making a sound. In the darkness beyond the tiny fire’s light, he was completely shrouded in darkness.
“Hello at the camp,” Merlin said calmly.
“Who’s there!” One of the hooded figures demanded. It was a man, skinny and covered in filthy rags, but holding a knife in one hand.
“A friend, I mean you no harm,” Merlin said. “I smelled the fish you’re smoking and hoped there might be enough for me.”
He stepped closer, his long robe hung to the top of his boots, and was cinched at the waist with a golden sash. His long hair was tied together at the back of his neck, and the soft whiskers that covered his jawline and chin were streaked with gray. From inside the sleeve of his robe, Merlin produced a silver coin. It was polished bright and reflected the firelight as he held it out.
“Umvar, take the coin,” the other traveler demanded.
Merlin held out the coin to the man, who took it and slipped it into his belt.
“We’ve only enough for two,” Umvar insisted.
“You can go hungry one night for a silver coin,” his companion insisted.
Merlin didn’t necessarily like taking the man’s meal, but he had done without on his long journey. A belly full of smoked fish would give him strength to return to his estates in Butan.
“May I?” Merlin asked, pointing to the tiny fire.
“Please, join us,” the second traveler said.
It was a woman leaning against the tree, her arms and legs pulled up around her distended belly. Merlin could feel the child she carried. It was almost to term and had not yet been named. Looking up, Merlin could see the moon was nearly full. The silvery light seemed swallowed up in the darkness of the salt marshes, which were black as pitch. She would have the baby soon, maybe in only a few days.
“My name is Cryslov,” she said, taking a spit from above the fire where the fish had been smoked. There were two fish on the stick, each with its head removed. The bodies were split down the middle leaving two sides hanging on either side of the stick. The skin was blackened, the flesh white. Merlin took the stick and began to pull the flaky, white meat from the bones of the fish. It was rich with the flavor of the smoke and salty too. The man, Umvar, handed Merlin a water skin.
“You’ll have to drink water, we have nothing better,” the man said.
Merlin took the skin, and held it in one hand. With the other, he waved an intricate pattern while whispering a spell. Cryslov looked up, her eyes bright. She wanted to speak, but she waited. It wasn’t wise to interrupt a wizard in the middle of a spell. When he was finished, Merlin lifted the water skin and took a long pull. The water had become a sharp, full bodied, wine.
“It is more than water now,” Merlin said handing the skin back to Umvar.
“You’re a wizard?” Cryslov said. “I didn’t know there were any of the gifted south of Atal.”
“There are a few,” Merlin said. “I’m Errol ap’Tunnar Foyl, but most people call me Merlin.”
“Like the bird,” Umvar said, as if it were an insult.
“The falcon, yes,” Merlin said. “The fish is excellent.”
“Thank you,” Cryslov said.
“Where are you headed?” Merlin asked.
“Wrydun’s Ferry,” Cryslov said. “Hopefully before the baby comes.”
“It will come with the full moon,” Merlin said.
“How can you know that?” Umvar asked.
He was standing and still had the knife in one hand. It was wise not to trust strangers, especially those who wandered along in the dark, but Merlin had paid for his meal and pledged not to harm them. The knife was more tool than weapon, and wouldn’t be much use against a wizard. Merlin was tempted to turn the blade into an eel, or maybe a snake, but it was plain to see that the couple had precious little in the world. Ruining the knife wouldn’t help them, and Merlin was intrigued by the child Cryslov was carrying.
“Your wife is near term,” Merlin said. “Many babies are born when the moon is full. It is simple observation.”
Cryslov rubbed her ample stomach, smiling. “Umvar is my brother. The baby isn’t his.”
“And that is why you haven’t named the child?” Merlin asked, referring to the powerful blessing a child received from its father and mother.
“I’m waiting on his father,” Cryslov said. “He will come.”
“Why isn’t he here now?” Merlin asked.
“There is rumor of war,” Umvar said. “The Farkia Outcasts are massing near the border. The dark magic is a threat to all living kind.”
He took a swig from the water skin, as if talking had suddenly dried his throat. He wiped his mouth and nodded to Merlin, before settling back down in front of the fire. In the distance wolves howled, and an howl screeched. Night in the salt marshes was not for the faint of heart.
“He is a Bright One, your mate?” Merlin asked, referring to the powerful Atals, who were more than human and the guardians of magic.
Cryslov nodded. “He is. When it is safe for us he will come and take us home.”
“She’s been living in Atland,” Umvar said. “She’s beginning to think she’s highborn.”
“We are all precious creations,” Merlin said.
“Easy for you to say,” Umvar continued. “Wizards and princes and all the Bright Ones who have no fear of death speak of equality. But they don’t know poverty, or hunger. They don’t know what it’s like to scratch and claw for your next meal, never knowing when some monster is going to come for you in the dark.”
Merlin knew more than most about magical creatures. His closest companion was a water spirit that lived in the black lake near Butan. And hadn’t he just paid good silver for a few smoked fish? Merlin had lived off field mice, weasels, and other small birds in his falcon form many times. He had sacrificed decades of his life to learn magic which the Bright Ones of Atal were loath to share. But most common folk didn’t want to hear of his hardships, not when he could do things with magic they could scarcely imagine.
Still, it was highly unusual for the Bright Ones to love a mortal being. All the magic in the world couldn’t make a human live forever, no matter what people like Umvar believed. Such a romance would eventually end in heartbreak. Their child would certainly be gifted, but unless the immortal genes were dominant it would be considered lowborn. The Atals wouldn’t accept him, nor would most humans. He would be an outsider everywhere he went. Yet Merlin could feel a sense of destiny from the baby, the way that gold felt heavy in the hand, or a well made sword seemed to lend strength when you held it. He made his decision quickly. Agonizing over a decision was not his way. He could be impulsive, but rarely gave his doubts any heed once his mind was made up.
Reaching out, he put his hand on Cryslov’s stomach. She tensed, but he looked into her eyes, his own glowing golden in the gloom of the night.
“Never fear,” he said, letting magic flow from his body. It was like breathing out, simple yet profound. The bonding spell was a matter of will, not magical strength. “All is well.”
Cryslov didn’t pull away, and Umvar was oblivious that anything was taking place other than a man feeling the baby. It was not an unusual thing for people to do, although more women than men seemed to care about feeling a child still in its mother’s womb. When Merlin finished a moment later he sat back and reached into his robe for the bag of coins he had hidden there.
He handed the pouch of gold and silver to Cryslov. “For the boy.”
“It’s a boy?” she asked, taking the coins.
“He is. And I will watch over him, as often as I can.”
Umvar grunted, but didn’t say anything. He had been drinking the magically crafted wine since Merlin handed it back to him, and was starting to move past tipsy to true drunkenness. Magical spirits were often more potent than natural beverages. Cryslov smiled, and put her hand on her belly. It was obvious that she loved her baby and was lost in her own thoughts of motherhood. Neither of them heard the serpent slither up the far side of the small hill. Merlin rose slowly to his feet just as the snake rose up behind the tree. It was a huge creature, big enough to swallow any of them whole, and probably two of them before its appetite was sated.
“Make no sudden movements,” Merlin said.
“Eh?” Umvar asked.
There was no time to explain. Merlin reached one hand toward the fire, and stretched the other toward the towering serpent that was preparing to strike. Flames from the tiny camp fire leaped toward the wizard, swirled around his body and then shot out toward the snake.
Eventually, even wizards grew weary. Merlin began to search for a dry place to spend the night, safe from the unsavory creatures that prowled the salt marshes once the sun went down. He selected a towering pine tree, and circled as he descended, searching for any sign of predators. After choosing a sturdy looking branch, he landed. As a falcon, his powerful talons could hold fast to the stout bough through the night. The sun was setting and Merlin was tired. He raised one darkly feathered wing, tucked his head beneath it, and was soon asleep.
The smoke woke him. The smell made his stomach rumble in an almost angry fashion. Food had not been a priority, and while he could hunt and kill as a falcon, he did not savor the taste of raw meat the way other birds did. The smell of smoked fish on the other hand, was something the wizard did crave. With a leap, he was in the air again, spreading powerful wings and circling the small hill where the tree stood. The ground there was less wet, but not completely dry either. A tiny fire had been kindled, and two hooded figures huddled near the golden light.
Merlin dropped toward the ground and reverted to his human form just as his feet met the earth. He stood straight, stretching the muscles in his back without making a sound. In the darkness beyond the tiny fire’s light, he was completely shrouded in darkness.
“Hello at the camp,” Merlin said calmly.
“Who’s there!” One of the hooded figures demanded. It was a man, skinny and covered in filthy rags, but holding a knife in one hand.
“A friend, I mean you no harm,” Merlin said. “I smelled the fish you’re smoking and hoped there might be enough for me.”
He stepped closer, his long robe hung to the top of his boots, and was cinched at the waist with a golden sash. His long hair was tied together at the back of his neck, and the soft whiskers that covered his jawline and chin were streaked with gray. From inside the sleeve of his robe, Merlin produced a silver coin. It was polished bright and reflected the firelight as he held it out.
“Umvar, take the coin,” the other traveler demanded.
Merlin held out the coin to the man, who took it and slipped it into his belt.
“We’ve only enough for two,” Umvar insisted.
“You can go hungry one night for a silver coin,” his companion insisted.
Merlin didn’t necessarily like taking the man’s meal, but he had done without on his long journey. A belly full of smoked fish would give him strength to return to his estates in Butan.
“May I?” Merlin asked, pointing to the tiny fire.
“Please, join us,” the second traveler said.
It was a woman leaning against the tree, her arms and legs pulled up around her distended belly. Merlin could feel the child she carried. It was almost to term and had not yet been named. Looking up, Merlin could see the moon was nearly full. The silvery light seemed swallowed up in the darkness of the salt marshes, which were black as pitch. She would have the baby soon, maybe in only a few days.
“My name is Cryslov,” she said, taking a spit from above the fire where the fish had been smoked. There were two fish on the stick, each with its head removed. The bodies were split down the middle leaving two sides hanging on either side of the stick. The skin was blackened, the flesh white. Merlin took the stick and began to pull the flaky, white meat from the bones of the fish. It was rich with the flavor of the smoke and salty too. The man, Umvar, handed Merlin a water skin.
“You’ll have to drink water, we have nothing better,” the man said.
Merlin took the skin, and held it in one hand. With the other, he waved an intricate pattern while whispering a spell. Cryslov looked up, her eyes bright. She wanted to speak, but she waited. It wasn’t wise to interrupt a wizard in the middle of a spell. When he was finished, Merlin lifted the water skin and took a long pull. The water had become a sharp, full bodied, wine.
“It is more than water now,” Merlin said handing the skin back to Umvar.
“You’re a wizard?” Cryslov said. “I didn’t know there were any of the gifted south of Atal.”
“There are a few,” Merlin said. “I’m Errol ap’Tunnar Foyl, but most people call me Merlin.”
“Like the bird,” Umvar said, as if it were an insult.
“The falcon, yes,” Merlin said. “The fish is excellent.”
“Thank you,” Cryslov said.
“Where are you headed?” Merlin asked.
“Wrydun’s Ferry,” Cryslov said. “Hopefully before the baby comes.”
“It will come with the full moon,” Merlin said.
“How can you know that?” Umvar asked.
He was standing and still had the knife in one hand. It was wise not to trust strangers, especially those who wandered along in the dark, but Merlin had paid for his meal and pledged not to harm them. The knife was more tool than weapon, and wouldn’t be much use against a wizard. Merlin was tempted to turn the blade into an eel, or maybe a snake, but it was plain to see that the couple had precious little in the world. Ruining the knife wouldn’t help them, and Merlin was intrigued by the child Cryslov was carrying.
“Your wife is near term,” Merlin said. “Many babies are born when the moon is full. It is simple observation.”
Cryslov rubbed her ample stomach, smiling. “Umvar is my brother. The baby isn’t his.”
“And that is why you haven’t named the child?” Merlin asked, referring to the powerful blessing a child received from its father and mother.
“I’m waiting on his father,” Cryslov said. “He will come.”
“Why isn’t he here now?” Merlin asked.
“There is rumor of war,” Umvar said. “The Farkia Outcasts are massing near the border. The dark magic is a threat to all living kind.”
He took a swig from the water skin, as if talking had suddenly dried his throat. He wiped his mouth and nodded to Merlin, before settling back down in front of the fire. In the distance wolves howled, and an howl screeched. Night in the salt marshes was not for the faint of heart.
“He is a Bright One, your mate?” Merlin asked, referring to the powerful Atals, who were more than human and the guardians of magic.
Cryslov nodded. “He is. When it is safe for us he will come and take us home.”
“She’s been living in Atland,” Umvar said. “She’s beginning to think she’s highborn.”
“We are all precious creations,” Merlin said.
“Easy for you to say,” Umvar continued. “Wizards and princes and all the Bright Ones who have no fear of death speak of equality. But they don’t know poverty, or hunger. They don’t know what it’s like to scratch and claw for your next meal, never knowing when some monster is going to come for you in the dark.”
Merlin knew more than most about magical creatures. His closest companion was a water spirit that lived in the black lake near Butan. And hadn’t he just paid good silver for a few smoked fish? Merlin had lived off field mice, weasels, and other small birds in his falcon form many times. He had sacrificed decades of his life to learn magic which the Bright Ones of Atal were loath to share. But most common folk didn’t want to hear of his hardships, not when he could do things with magic they could scarcely imagine.
Still, it was highly unusual for the Bright Ones to love a mortal being. All the magic in the world couldn’t make a human live forever, no matter what people like Umvar believed. Such a romance would eventually end in heartbreak. Their child would certainly be gifted, but unless the immortal genes were dominant it would be considered lowborn. The Atals wouldn’t accept him, nor would most humans. He would be an outsider everywhere he went. Yet Merlin could feel a sense of destiny from the baby, the way that gold felt heavy in the hand, or a well made sword seemed to lend strength when you held it. He made his decision quickly. Agonizing over a decision was not his way. He could be impulsive, but rarely gave his doubts any heed once his mind was made up.
Reaching out, he put his hand on Cryslov’s stomach. She tensed, but he looked into her eyes, his own glowing golden in the gloom of the night.
“Never fear,” he said, letting magic flow from his body. It was like breathing out, simple yet profound. The bonding spell was a matter of will, not magical strength. “All is well.”
Cryslov didn’t pull away, and Umvar was oblivious that anything was taking place other than a man feeling the baby. It was not an unusual thing for people to do, although more women than men seemed to care about feeling a child still in its mother’s womb. When Merlin finished a moment later he sat back and reached into his robe for the bag of coins he had hidden there.
He handed the pouch of gold and silver to Cryslov. “For the boy.”
“It’s a boy?” she asked, taking the coins.
“He is. And I will watch over him, as often as I can.”
Umvar grunted, but didn’t say anything. He had been drinking the magically crafted wine since Merlin handed it back to him, and was starting to move past tipsy to true drunkenness. Magical spirits were often more potent than natural beverages. Cryslov smiled, and put her hand on her belly. It was obvious that she loved her baby and was lost in her own thoughts of motherhood. Neither of them heard the serpent slither up the far side of the small hill. Merlin rose slowly to his feet just as the snake rose up behind the tree. It was a huge creature, big enough to swallow any of them whole, and probably two of them before its appetite was sated.
“Make no sudden movements,” Merlin said.
“Eh?” Umvar asked.
There was no time to explain. Merlin reached one hand toward the fire, and stretched the other toward the towering serpent that was preparing to strike. Flames from the tiny camp fire leaped toward the wizard, swirled around his body and then shot out toward the snake.
September 23, 2020
The Last Book In A Series
Gryphon Warriors
It’s hard to say goodbye to characters and a world that you created. When I write, there are so many surprising twists and turns that I never anticipated. For me, writing is like reading a great book. I get the same thrill.
The Marshyl Stories is one of my favorite series. I really love the combination of a wild west setting, mixed with magic. Some books just have the right chemistry and the Marshyl Stories has it. Ring mages and wand casters, magical battles, and young Marshyl Knights trying to find their place in a world that both reveres and fears them. Writing the final book was difficult because I wanted it to be good. I needed to tie together all the loose threads I had left from the other books. As a storyteller I want my books to satisfy the reader. That doesn’t always mean a happy ending, and hopefully not a predictable one either, but certainly one that leaves them feeling glad they came along for the ride.
I’ll miss Dex and his determination to always do the right thing, no matter the cost. I’ll miss his friendships with Kyp and Squirrel. Saying good-bye to Princess Lauralyn, Outrider Reegan, and the Lord Marshyl were all bittersweet but I think they are happy with the story. I hope my readers are too.
Gryphon Warriors goes live on Amazon September 29th, 2020.
It’s hard to say goodbye to characters and a world that you created. When I write, there are so many surprising twists and turns that I never anticipated. For me, writing is like reading a great book. I get the same thrill.
The Marshyl Stories is one of my favorite series. I really love the combination of a wild west setting, mixed with magic. Some books just have the right chemistry and the Marshyl Stories has it. Ring mages and wand casters, magical battles, and young Marshyl Knights trying to find their place in a world that both reveres and fears them. Writing the final book was difficult because I wanted it to be good. I needed to tie together all the loose threads I had left from the other books. As a storyteller I want my books to satisfy the reader. That doesn’t always mean a happy ending, and hopefully not a predictable one either, but certainly one that leaves them feeling glad they came along for the ride.
I’ll miss Dex and his determination to always do the right thing, no matter the cost. I’ll miss his friendships with Kyp and Squirrel. Saying good-bye to Princess Lauralyn, Outrider Reegan, and the Lord Marshyl were all bittersweet but I think they are happy with the story. I hope my readers are too.
Gryphon Warriors goes live on Amazon September 29th, 2020.
April 28, 2020
War INC preview
For me, nothing is more exciting than the launch of a new series. I'm really excited about my new book War INC I think it's one of my best so far and I want to share the first chapter with you.
War INC on Amazon
Chapter 1
Alex Chester Evans looked at the computer screen with a sense of dread. The message from the Gemini Technical Institute was a form letter—a rejection notice. His application had been denied, just as it had been by three other institutions in the space of a week. He wasn’t what they were looking for, and he was going to have to tell his parents.
Shutting down the message app, he slipped his PIL—Personal Information Link—into his back pocket and stepped into his last class of the day. It was Cosmic Geography, but Alex wasn’t in the right frame of mind to learn anything. As a kid he had dreamed, as most children do, of traveling through the tunnels from one star system to another and seeing wild, unexplored planets. But that dream had died. He was a mediocre student with no aptitude for trade skills. Like over half of humanity, his family was stuck on a backwater planet owned by one of the big five—an Epic Corp, as the news media called them. They were bigger than the governments, with more money and resources. They were the only entities with the means to open new space portals or explore and exploit new planets.
His father had taken a job with NanCo. The company had settled them on NP8261, a planet so pathetically boring that it didn’t even have a name. It barely had an atmosphere—just a thin layer of helium. The only value to the planet was in the ore mined by the large rock-busting machines. Alex’s father was a heavy mechanic, which had been a good job, but they were stuck on NP8261 and were virtually slaves to the company. NanCo owned everything: the city, their apartment, the entertainment complex, and even the grocery outlet. They were paid in company credits, which had no value off-world. They couldn’t even afford transportation to another planet if they wanted to leave.
Alex had been banking on acceptance to a tech school. Most had relocation programs, and once he graduated he would have job opportunities on a variety of worlds. He might even be able to get on a named planet, one with atmosphere and vast cities that span continents. But it was time to face the facts. He wasn’t even good enough to get into a trade program. He would have a short, difficult life, probably as a rock-buster deep in the mines. Maybe if they had lived on a real world, he could have found a career if he hustled hard enough, but the truth was that he was caught in the company net.
Anger began to build as he sat in class. Was he really supposed to care anymore? He had done the work his teachers assigned, but his teachers weren’t the cream of the crop. Only the teachers with no other prospects took an assignment on a company planet. He’d been told all his life that if he worked hard enough, he could accomplish anything—but it was all a lie.
When the bell rang and he was finally free, he strapped on his rebreather, left his data slate in the dock, and pulled on his heavy coat. Alex was tall and thin, as there was never enough to eat, and the coat—which was second- or maybe even thirdhand when he got it—was almost too small. As it was, his arms hung out of the sleeves. He buried his hands as deeply into the coat pockets as they would go, but there was still a gap between his sleeve cuffs and the pocket—just enough to let the cold, blustery wind on NP8261 slip up his arms as he walked.
The school building was near the security hangar, and Alex often walked by the warehouse-sized building to get a look at the MP Defenders housed there. They were big, bulky warfare units. Some people called them “mechs,” or battle suits. To Alex they were like walking tanks; they had thick armor, hydraulic piston legs, and no arms—just a variety of weapon mounts. He had tested for the defense force against his mother’s wishes. It was the one company job that had a future, if a person could actually survive long enough. But of course, he was rejected from that program as well. The big hangar doors were closed, and Alex felt like it was just another rejection. His future was as bleak as the planet he was stuck on.
He didn’t notice the disruptor drones dropping toward the town from orbit until the sound of their sleek, armored skin began to keen in the thin helium. At first Alex thought someone was whistling. He looked around, but there weren’t many people outdoors. Most of the locals never went outside; they preferred the dimly lit tunnels and underground links that didn’t require rebreathers or heavy coats. When Alex finally looked up, he saw six dark shapes hurtling down toward the grimy, industrial town.
The first thought that went through his mind was why anyone would even bother attacking NP8261. The ore mined was valuable enough, but only after it was sorted and shipped to the refineries. Yet there was no doubt about what was coming down. Alex had never seen more than one transport descending at a time, and they were bulky ships with roaring engines. The disruptor drones were sleek, like fat bullets shot from a cosmic cannon far away.
He dove into a gap between the atmo-converter and the thick steel beams at the end of the security hangar. Being outside during an attack was dangerous, but Alex had no intention of running away. The attack was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in weeks, and he wasn’t about to miss it. Besides, what did he have to lose?
The disruptors landed with booming thumps like muted thunder. Even before they shed their heat shells, the doors of the security hangar rumbled upward. Chains slid through hardened steel sprockets, and the thin metal doors shook as they slid up into the overhead rails. Alex couldn’t see what was happening, but he heard the whir of the MP Defenders powering up and starting to move, and then the big, mechanized fighting machines came lurching from their den. The ground seemed to tremble as their heavy, all-terrain feet stomped on the rocky ground.
From where he has hiding, Alex could see one of the disruptors if he leaned out a little and craned his neck. The Defenders were spreading out, moving quickly through the town and searching for the disruptors. One went lumbering straight past his hiding spot and was about to turn the corner toward a disruptor drone when a flash of super-focused laser light cut through the Defender’s rotating autocannon and slammed into him. Both of the huge fighting machines went down with a crash and slid across the rocky ground. The Defender was quicker and only a couple of meters from where Alex watched in wide-eyed fascination. The disruptor was a drone, manned from a ship in orbit. Without the natural balance and feel of an actual person inside, it struggled to right itself.
The Defender regained its feet and aimed its remaining weapon at the drone. Alex thought it looked like a fat warrior who had lost an arm. Sparks flew from the severed weapon on its right side, but the left was intact and fully operational—yet it didn’t fire. Perhaps the operator hesitated for a second before pulling the trigger, or maybe the weapon had to charge before firing—either way, that second nearly cost the operator his life. The drone, acting out of desperation, hit the Defender with some type of electrical charge. The blast scrambled the Defender’s systems and sent him toppling onto his side. The large battle suit opened automatically, and Alex saw the operator lying unconscious inside the unit.
The disruptor drone got back to its feet and moved on, looking for better targets. Alex didn’t hesitate like the man in the MP Defender. He could see that the system was rebooting, but the operator was out cold. Alex dashed to the man’s side, shouting for help—but there was no one to hear his cries. Looking around and realizing he was alone, Alex did the only thing he could think of: he ripped off his rebreather and tugged the operator out of the mechanized fighter. The man was breathing; Alex could see his breath fogging the clear face mask of the rebreather. Still holding his own breath, Alex stuffed the operator into the space he had been hiding in just seconds before, rushed back to the Defender, and crawled inside. There was a button lit in red. The label on it said Initialize. Alex pressed it, and the suit came to life around him.
War INC on Amazon
Chapter 1
Alex Chester Evans looked at the computer screen with a sense of dread. The message from the Gemini Technical Institute was a form letter—a rejection notice. His application had been denied, just as it had been by three other institutions in the space of a week. He wasn’t what they were looking for, and he was going to have to tell his parents.
Shutting down the message app, he slipped his PIL—Personal Information Link—into his back pocket and stepped into his last class of the day. It was Cosmic Geography, but Alex wasn’t in the right frame of mind to learn anything. As a kid he had dreamed, as most children do, of traveling through the tunnels from one star system to another and seeing wild, unexplored planets. But that dream had died. He was a mediocre student with no aptitude for trade skills. Like over half of humanity, his family was stuck on a backwater planet owned by one of the big five—an Epic Corp, as the news media called them. They were bigger than the governments, with more money and resources. They were the only entities with the means to open new space portals or explore and exploit new planets.
His father had taken a job with NanCo. The company had settled them on NP8261, a planet so pathetically boring that it didn’t even have a name. It barely had an atmosphere—just a thin layer of helium. The only value to the planet was in the ore mined by the large rock-busting machines. Alex’s father was a heavy mechanic, which had been a good job, but they were stuck on NP8261 and were virtually slaves to the company. NanCo owned everything: the city, their apartment, the entertainment complex, and even the grocery outlet. They were paid in company credits, which had no value off-world. They couldn’t even afford transportation to another planet if they wanted to leave.
Alex had been banking on acceptance to a tech school. Most had relocation programs, and once he graduated he would have job opportunities on a variety of worlds. He might even be able to get on a named planet, one with atmosphere and vast cities that span continents. But it was time to face the facts. He wasn’t even good enough to get into a trade program. He would have a short, difficult life, probably as a rock-buster deep in the mines. Maybe if they had lived on a real world, he could have found a career if he hustled hard enough, but the truth was that he was caught in the company net.
Anger began to build as he sat in class. Was he really supposed to care anymore? He had done the work his teachers assigned, but his teachers weren’t the cream of the crop. Only the teachers with no other prospects took an assignment on a company planet. He’d been told all his life that if he worked hard enough, he could accomplish anything—but it was all a lie.
When the bell rang and he was finally free, he strapped on his rebreather, left his data slate in the dock, and pulled on his heavy coat. Alex was tall and thin, as there was never enough to eat, and the coat—which was second- or maybe even thirdhand when he got it—was almost too small. As it was, his arms hung out of the sleeves. He buried his hands as deeply into the coat pockets as they would go, but there was still a gap between his sleeve cuffs and the pocket—just enough to let the cold, blustery wind on NP8261 slip up his arms as he walked.
The school building was near the security hangar, and Alex often walked by the warehouse-sized building to get a look at the MP Defenders housed there. They were big, bulky warfare units. Some people called them “mechs,” or battle suits. To Alex they were like walking tanks; they had thick armor, hydraulic piston legs, and no arms—just a variety of weapon mounts. He had tested for the defense force against his mother’s wishes. It was the one company job that had a future, if a person could actually survive long enough. But of course, he was rejected from that program as well. The big hangar doors were closed, and Alex felt like it was just another rejection. His future was as bleak as the planet he was stuck on.
He didn’t notice the disruptor drones dropping toward the town from orbit until the sound of their sleek, armored skin began to keen in the thin helium. At first Alex thought someone was whistling. He looked around, but there weren’t many people outdoors. Most of the locals never went outside; they preferred the dimly lit tunnels and underground links that didn’t require rebreathers or heavy coats. When Alex finally looked up, he saw six dark shapes hurtling down toward the grimy, industrial town.
The first thought that went through his mind was why anyone would even bother attacking NP8261. The ore mined was valuable enough, but only after it was sorted and shipped to the refineries. Yet there was no doubt about what was coming down. Alex had never seen more than one transport descending at a time, and they were bulky ships with roaring engines. The disruptor drones were sleek, like fat bullets shot from a cosmic cannon far away.
He dove into a gap between the atmo-converter and the thick steel beams at the end of the security hangar. Being outside during an attack was dangerous, but Alex had no intention of running away. The attack was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in weeks, and he wasn’t about to miss it. Besides, what did he have to lose?
The disruptors landed with booming thumps like muted thunder. Even before they shed their heat shells, the doors of the security hangar rumbled upward. Chains slid through hardened steel sprockets, and the thin metal doors shook as they slid up into the overhead rails. Alex couldn’t see what was happening, but he heard the whir of the MP Defenders powering up and starting to move, and then the big, mechanized fighting machines came lurching from their den. The ground seemed to tremble as their heavy, all-terrain feet stomped on the rocky ground.
From where he has hiding, Alex could see one of the disruptors if he leaned out a little and craned his neck. The Defenders were spreading out, moving quickly through the town and searching for the disruptors. One went lumbering straight past his hiding spot and was about to turn the corner toward a disruptor drone when a flash of super-focused laser light cut through the Defender’s rotating autocannon and slammed into him. Both of the huge fighting machines went down with a crash and slid across the rocky ground. The Defender was quicker and only a couple of meters from where Alex watched in wide-eyed fascination. The disruptor was a drone, manned from a ship in orbit. Without the natural balance and feel of an actual person inside, it struggled to right itself.
The Defender regained its feet and aimed its remaining weapon at the drone. Alex thought it looked like a fat warrior who had lost an arm. Sparks flew from the severed weapon on its right side, but the left was intact and fully operational—yet it didn’t fire. Perhaps the operator hesitated for a second before pulling the trigger, or maybe the weapon had to charge before firing—either way, that second nearly cost the operator his life. The drone, acting out of desperation, hit the Defender with some type of electrical charge. The blast scrambled the Defender’s systems and sent him toppling onto his side. The large battle suit opened automatically, and Alex saw the operator lying unconscious inside the unit.
The disruptor drone got back to its feet and moved on, looking for better targets. Alex didn’t hesitate like the man in the MP Defender. He could see that the system was rebooting, but the operator was out cold. Alex dashed to the man’s side, shouting for help—but there was no one to hear his cries. Looking around and realizing he was alone, Alex did the only thing he could think of: he ripped off his rebreather and tugged the operator out of the mechanized fighter. The man was breathing; Alex could see his breath fogging the clear face mask of the rebreather. Still holding his own breath, Alex stuffed the operator into the space he had been hiding in just seconds before, rushed back to the Defender, and crawled inside. There was a button lit in red. The label on it said Initialize. Alex pressed it, and the suit came to life around him.
July 15, 2019
50 by 50
50 by 50
I started writing in college, but I was thirty-one years old before I finished my first novel (Third Prince/Royal Destiny). It was five years and three books later before I actually saw any kind of profit from my writing. At that time, I had no idea what was really possible for me. I just wanted to write good books. I set what I thought was a really big, audacious goal of writing/publishing 50 books by the time I turned fifty years old.
Jump Point (Kestrel Class Sage book 2) will be published on Tuesday, July 16th. And it will be the completion of my goal! I am forty-four years old, and I’m publishing my 50th novel! It’s a big dream. I’ve been fortunate enough to catch a few dreams. I’m a full time novelist, I live in one of the most beautiful parts of the country, in a house we built — with my family who I love and respect so much. I’m living proof that you should dream big dreams and chase them with a never give up attitude. Trust me, if I can write fifty full-length novels after struggling in school (I was a horrible speller) and hating every writing assignment I ever had, anything is possible. I believe God puts big dreams in our hearts and minds because we were created to do big, big things. Those things call us out of our comfort zones and force us to dare greatly, but it’s only by taking chances that we’re able to do things that impact the world around us.
Now that I’ve reached my 50 by 50, I’m reaching for even bigger goals. I’m writing scripts and screenplays. I’m working with a Hollywood agent to break into television and movie writing. I’m also planning to write/publish another fifty novels before I turn 51 years old. Big dreams keep us motivated and moving in the right direction. I’m excited to be sharing my big dream with you and crafting great stories that will keep you entertained for years to come. Below are my fifty novels, all available Amazon. I hope you read every single one!
Wizard Rising
Magic Awakening
Hidden Fire
Crying Havoc
Fierce Loyalty
Evil Tide
Wizard Falling
Chaos Descending
Into Chaos
Chaos Reigning
Chaos Raging
Controlling Chaos
Killing Chaos
Elder Wizard
Lorik
Lorik the Protector
Lorik the Defender
We Are The Wolf
Welcome To The Wolfpack
Embracing Oblivion
Joined In Battle
The Abyss Of Savagery
The Vault Of Mysteries
Lords Of Ascension
The Elusive Executioner
Regulators Revealed
Avondale
Draggah
Balestone
Arcanius
Avondale V
Third Prince
Royal Destiny
The Other Side
The New World
Zompocalypse
Spartan Company
Spartan Valor
Spartan Guile
Dragon Team Seven
Uncommon Loyalty
Total Allegiance
Kestrel Class
Jump Point
Charter
Jack & Roxie
My Lady Sorceress
The Man With No Hands
ARC Angel
Battle ARC
I started writing in college, but I was thirty-one years old before I finished my first novel (Third Prince/Royal Destiny). It was five years and three books later before I actually saw any kind of profit from my writing. At that time, I had no idea what was really possible for me. I just wanted to write good books. I set what I thought was a really big, audacious goal of writing/publishing 50 books by the time I turned fifty years old.
Jump Point (Kestrel Class Sage book 2) will be published on Tuesday, July 16th. And it will be the completion of my goal! I am forty-four years old, and I’m publishing my 50th novel! It’s a big dream. I’ve been fortunate enough to catch a few dreams. I’m a full time novelist, I live in one of the most beautiful parts of the country, in a house we built — with my family who I love and respect so much. I’m living proof that you should dream big dreams and chase them with a never give up attitude. Trust me, if I can write fifty full-length novels after struggling in school (I was a horrible speller) and hating every writing assignment I ever had, anything is possible. I believe God puts big dreams in our hearts and minds because we were created to do big, big things. Those things call us out of our comfort zones and force us to dare greatly, but it’s only by taking chances that we’re able to do things that impact the world around us.
Now that I’ve reached my 50 by 50, I’m reaching for even bigger goals. I’m writing scripts and screenplays. I’m working with a Hollywood agent to break into television and movie writing. I’m also planning to write/publish another fifty novels before I turn 51 years old. Big dreams keep us motivated and moving in the right direction. I’m excited to be sharing my big dream with you and crafting great stories that will keep you entertained for years to come. Below are my fifty novels, all available Amazon. I hope you read every single one!
Wizard Rising
Magic Awakening
Hidden Fire
Crying Havoc
Fierce Loyalty
Evil Tide
Wizard Falling
Chaos Descending
Into Chaos
Chaos Reigning
Chaos Raging
Controlling Chaos
Killing Chaos
Elder Wizard
Lorik
Lorik the Protector
Lorik the Defender
We Are The Wolf
Welcome To The Wolfpack
Embracing Oblivion
Joined In Battle
The Abyss Of Savagery
The Vault Of Mysteries
Lords Of Ascension
The Elusive Executioner
Regulators Revealed
Avondale
Draggah
Balestone
Arcanius
Avondale V
Third Prince
Royal Destiny
The Other Side
The New World
Zompocalypse
Spartan Company
Spartan Valor
Spartan Guile
Dragon Team Seven
Uncommon Loyalty
Total Allegiance
Kestrel Class
Jump Point
Charter
Jack & Roxie
My Lady Sorceress
The Man With No Hands
ARC Angel
Battle ARC
June 17, 2019
Kestrel Class
Have you ever wished for more of a story? Perhaps a favorite author passed away, or a beloved series was canceled on television. It happens to all of us sooner or later. Sometimes, we just long for stories that had the same feeling as those we have loved in the past.
For a long time I’ve longed to write a story about a group of misfits who find a way out of the ordinary and into a life that is filled with excitement, adventure, and some danger to boot. That desire was kindled by shows like Firefly, The A-Team, and Star Wars. I decided recently that it was time to write my own story showcasing characters with unique skills, a few.,mr flaws, and a desire for more from life than they currently knew. I imagined a world ruined by war and covered with the wreckage of ten thousand star ships. Amid the rubble, in a vast field of trash, junk, rusted parts, and debris, was a diamond in the rough. A Kestrel class space ship almost completely intact. One that can be repaired to her former glory. And with fuel for her fusion engine, flown again. If the right people could find her, fix her up, and get some fuel, they could escape their dreary existence on a world filled with junk and live a life of adventure among the stars. All they would have to do is avoid the Royal Imperium Fleet, and make contact the network of rebels who live under the government’s radar.
I hope you join my crew as they work to get their ship off the ground and explore life as blockade runners. Kestrel Class will go live on Amazon Tuesday, June 18th. Available in print, ebook, and Kindle Unlimited. Who knows, it might just be your favorite story yet.
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4...
For a long time I’ve longed to write a story about a group of misfits who find a way out of the ordinary and into a life that is filled with excitement, adventure, and some danger to boot. That desire was kindled by shows like Firefly, The A-Team, and Star Wars. I decided recently that it was time to write my own story showcasing characters with unique skills, a few.,mr flaws, and a desire for more from life than they currently knew. I imagined a world ruined by war and covered with the wreckage of ten thousand star ships. Amid the rubble, in a vast field of trash, junk, rusted parts, and debris, was a diamond in the rough. A Kestrel class space ship almost completely intact. One that can be repaired to her former glory. And with fuel for her fusion engine, flown again. If the right people could find her, fix her up, and get some fuel, they could escape their dreary existence on a world filled with junk and live a life of adventure among the stars. All they would have to do is avoid the Royal Imperium Fleet, and make contact the network of rebels who live under the government’s radar.
I hope you join my crew as they work to get their ship off the ground and explore life as blockade runners. Kestrel Class will go live on Amazon Tuesday, June 18th. Available in print, ebook, and Kindle Unlimited. Who knows, it might just be your favorite story yet.
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4...
October 18, 2018
Spartan Company Interview
Where Did The Idea For Spartan Company Come From?
Most of my stories start with just a nugget of an idea. For Spartan Company, I wondered what it would be like to be hunted. I quickly developed a world with a variety of intelligent species whose culture is built around fighting one another.
You've Written Military Sci-Fi Before. What Makes Spartan Company Different?
The heroes of my other stories were young officers. Orion is just a basic recruit working his way through the enlisted ranks. My other stories are all written in 3rd Person. This time I wanted to tell the story from Orion's point of view.
What Is Your Favorite Thing About Spartan Company?
I wrote the entire book without a real outline. All I knew was the ending. My favorite part of the story is the relationship between Orion and Aurora. I still have no idea what is going to happen to those characters, which is exciting as a writer. They are like real people to me, making their own choices as I write. I love that.
What Should We Expect From You This Fall And Winter?
More books. I have other projects in the works with my agent, but I will always write more novels. Expect at least two new books before Christmas.
Is It True You Are Having A Review Contest For Spartan Company?
It is true. I'll be posting it on Facebook in about a week. You can follow me on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/TobyNeighborsAuthor
Most of my stories start with just a nugget of an idea. For Spartan Company, I wondered what it would be like to be hunted. I quickly developed a world with a variety of intelligent species whose culture is built around fighting one another.
You've Written Military Sci-Fi Before. What Makes Spartan Company Different?
The heroes of my other stories were young officers. Orion is just a basic recruit working his way through the enlisted ranks. My other stories are all written in 3rd Person. This time I wanted to tell the story from Orion's point of view.
What Is Your Favorite Thing About Spartan Company?
I wrote the entire book without a real outline. All I knew was the ending. My favorite part of the story is the relationship between Orion and Aurora. I still have no idea what is going to happen to those characters, which is exciting as a writer. They are like real people to me, making their own choices as I write. I love that.
What Should We Expect From You This Fall And Winter?
More books. I have other projects in the works with my agent, but I will always write more novels. Expect at least two new books before Christmas.
Is It True You Are Having A Review Contest For Spartan Company?
It is true. I'll be posting it on Facebook in about a week. You can follow me on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/TobyNeighborsAuthor
April 6, 2017
New Directions
As you may know, my new book We Are The Wolf is a departure from my usual genre of Fantasy. It's not that I don't have more Fantasy novels to write, and I certainly don't want to disappoint my readers, but at times a story idea captures my imagination and won't let go. The Wolfpack novels (I'm hoping they'll be popular for at least four or five books) are the spice that fires my imagination. Writers are artists after all, and the trap we have to avoid is writing what is essentially the same story again and again. So how does one keep writing fresh, inventive new stories? I think we do it by expanding our repertoire, by pushing ourselves to tell great stories in new ways and in new genres.
We Are The Wolf allows me to stretch my imagination in a new direction. Instead of creating characters, details, and settings that are rooted in the past, I have to imagine all those things in the future. Magic trades places with technology. We still have a fantasy world, they're just planets instead of continents. There are still monsters, they're just aliens. I've always loved Science Fiction and feel lucky that I'm finally able to write in that genre and publish a book I'm really proud of. And, hopefully, it will make me a better writer in the process.
Another motivating factor is the possibility of expanding my readership. Authors are artists and small business owners. Indie published, traditional published, or hybrid, we all have to market our books and our brand. We have to make decisions that will hopefully get our books in front of new readers. Venturing into a new genre is always a risk, but the potential reward is worth the effort.
I hope you'll give We Are The Wolf a read. It’s value priced at only .99¢ until April 10th I'm confident you'll love it. And don't worry, I've got more great Fantasy in store to keep you entertained all year.
We Are The Wolf allows me to stretch my imagination in a new direction. Instead of creating characters, details, and settings that are rooted in the past, I have to imagine all those things in the future. Magic trades places with technology. We still have a fantasy world, they're just planets instead of continents. There are still monsters, they're just aliens. I've always loved Science Fiction and feel lucky that I'm finally able to write in that genre and publish a book I'm really proud of. And, hopefully, it will make me a better writer in the process.
Another motivating factor is the possibility of expanding my readership. Authors are artists and small business owners. Indie published, traditional published, or hybrid, we all have to market our books and our brand. We have to make decisions that will hopefully get our books in front of new readers. Venturing into a new genre is always a risk, but the potential reward is worth the effort.
I hope you'll give We Are The Wolf a read. It’s value priced at only .99¢ until April 10th I'm confident you'll love it. And don't worry, I've got more great Fantasy in store to keep you entertained all year.
October 29, 2016
National Novel Writing Month
Writing is my career. As a child growing up I loved books, but never thought I could actually write one. Just the thought of writing an entire book made me feel sick to my stomach. I didn’t write my first story until I was in college. I absolutely fell in love with writing and knew that I wanted to be an author, but it took more than a decade of trying before I finished my first book. Now I regularly write four to five books a year, and I’m increasing that output, writing seventy-five to eighty-five thousand word novels in about a month.
This November I’m going to be writing the second Young Adult epic fantasy novel in my Marshal Stories series. My goal is seventy thousand words before the Thanksgiving holiday and I’ll be sharing my progress. If you’re going to give NaNo WriMo a shot, here are some suggestions:
First, work on your outline now. List out the major events in your story, and then connect them logically. For instance, if your character needs to move from one local to another, how could he/she travel in a way that makes sense in the world you are writing in. Or, if something catastrophic happens in your story, how would people, namely your characters, react. Remember, if the progression is logical, it will also be believable.
Second, set daily writing goals. NaNo WriMo is a challenge to write fifty thousand words in thirty days. Breaking that down you would need to write one thousand, six hundred, and sixty-six words each day, but if you’re like most people your writing time may be different from day to day. Look at your schedule and map out how many words you need to write each day. If you work long hours on one day, but have time off on another, set your word count accordingly.
Finally, while you’re writing, don’t try to revise, edit, or evaluate your work. Just keep writing. Get to the end, then you can go back and make corrections. If you try to edit yourself as you go, you run the risk of getting stuck writing and rewriting the same section over and over. You’re goal isn’t to have a perfect novel in thirty days, or even a novel that is ready for submission. You’re goal is to finish writing the story with at least fifty thousand words, and you can do that if you work diligently. So don’t get stuck, keep moving forward, write everyday, and stick to your plan.
This November I’m going to be writing the second Young Adult epic fantasy novel in my Marshal Stories series. My goal is seventy thousand words before the Thanksgiving holiday and I’ll be sharing my progress. If you’re going to give NaNo WriMo a shot, here are some suggestions:
First, work on your outline now. List out the major events in your story, and then connect them logically. For instance, if your character needs to move from one local to another, how could he/she travel in a way that makes sense in the world you are writing in. Or, if something catastrophic happens in your story, how would people, namely your characters, react. Remember, if the progression is logical, it will also be believable.
Second, set daily writing goals. NaNo WriMo is a challenge to write fifty thousand words in thirty days. Breaking that down you would need to write one thousand, six hundred, and sixty-six words each day, but if you’re like most people your writing time may be different from day to day. Look at your schedule and map out how many words you need to write each day. If you work long hours on one day, but have time off on another, set your word count accordingly.
Finally, while you’re writing, don’t try to revise, edit, or evaluate your work. Just keep writing. Get to the end, then you can go back and make corrections. If you try to edit yourself as you go, you run the risk of getting stuck writing and rewriting the same section over and over. You’re goal isn’t to have a perfect novel in thirty days, or even a novel that is ready for submission. You’re goal is to finish writing the story with at least fifty thousand words, and you can do that if you work diligently. So don’t get stuck, keep moving forward, write everyday, and stick to your plan.
October 26, 2016
Hello
Let me begin with an introduction: My name is Toby Neighbors and I'm a storyteller. I write books for a living, mostly fantasy, but I really love all types of genre fiction and will probably write in most of them before it's all said and done. I love books. I have wholeheartedly embraced ebooks, and not just because I make a living selling them, but because I think they are so convenient. I absolutely love having my books with me at all times. I love the way they sync across all my devices. I read on a Kindle Voyage, my iPad, and my phone. Of course I also read paper books as well, just not as much. And I love different kinds of books. I recently finished Finders Keepers by Stephen King. I'm currently reading Death Without Company (Longmire book 2) by Craig Johnson and Fab: An Intimate Life Of Paul McCartney by Howard Sounes.
I'm not a book critic, although I know what I like and often have opinions about the books I read. Yet, I'm really an eclectic reader bouncing between books and various news/opinion stories about publishing. I love to tell stories, but I try to treat my writing like a business, if not in the way I approach my craft, then at least by keeping up with the times and doing the best I can to earn a good living for my family. I suspect I'll talk about publishing and writing in this blog, but neither one exclusively. I just want to share what I'm learning or how I'm feeling, to give you, the reader, insight into my life, my craft, and my passion.
You can expect this blog to be positive, upbeat, and encouraging, because I have a lot of reasons to be positive. I have my dream job. I make a better living than many writers and I live in a time when I can have complete control of my work. I want to keep growing as a storyteller, a publisher, and as a person, which is partly why I'm starting this blog. Professionally, I want to reach as many readers as possible, but the last thing I want to do is push myself or my books on anyone. Still, I'm embracing the possibility that you might find this blog just interesting enough to read it, and perhaps even interesting enough to take a look at my books. If so, you have my gratitude. Please feel free to follow my profile here on GoodReads, as well as on my website www.TobyNeighbors.com
I'm not a book critic, although I know what I like and often have opinions about the books I read. Yet, I'm really an eclectic reader bouncing between books and various news/opinion stories about publishing. I love to tell stories, but I try to treat my writing like a business, if not in the way I approach my craft, then at least by keeping up with the times and doing the best I can to earn a good living for my family. I suspect I'll talk about publishing and writing in this blog, but neither one exclusively. I just want to share what I'm learning or how I'm feeling, to give you, the reader, insight into my life, my craft, and my passion.
You can expect this blog to be positive, upbeat, and encouraging, because I have a lot of reasons to be positive. I have my dream job. I make a better living than many writers and I live in a time when I can have complete control of my work. I want to keep growing as a storyteller, a publisher, and as a person, which is partly why I'm starting this blog. Professionally, I want to reach as many readers as possible, but the last thing I want to do is push myself or my books on anyone. Still, I'm embracing the possibility that you might find this blog just interesting enough to read it, and perhaps even interesting enough to take a look at my books. If so, you have my gratitude. Please feel free to follow my profile here on GoodReads, as well as on my website www.TobyNeighbors.com
Tales Of A Storyteller
Random thoughts on writing, publishing, positivity and life.
- Toby Neighbors's profile
- 258 followers
