Kae Cheatham's Blog: Whoa! Another Author?, page 7

Book Picks 2011

I must admit, when I signed on for the Goodreads Reader's Challenge, I didn't think I would achieve my 51 book goal. But I did! I even exceeded it by a small bit.

Here are the top ten titles I really liked (in my read order, not order of preference). Many of them I've reviewed on this blog or at GoodReads; the title link will take you there.

Married to Bhutan memoir
Hypothermia mystery
Bone and Jewel Creatures fantasy
Wading Home contemporary
Keeper of Lost Causes mystery
The Sixth Discipline Sci Fi
Power Ballads short stories
A Witness Above mystery
The Only Witness mystery
Patrick Patterson and the World of Others SciFi

Dead Heroes – Excerpt 5

This excerpt is the introduction of the fourth major character in the Science Fiction book Dead Heroes. It's live now for Kindle. Free for Kindle Prime members. Print edition coming early next year.

In the inner sector

Commander Gerren Simsun stood very still and studied the data banks. Nothing seemed amiss. Gerren and his Chief Medical Officer had been the last to enter the timeholds—those cylinders of stasis. The doctor had seen to Gerren's comfort, set dials and checked calibrations. As the CMO closed himself away, Gerren had used his telekinesis and easily changed his own wake up settings. So now he was out of the coffin-like pod. Just as the other times he had done this, neither the computers or the robotic attendants in the timehold bay had reacted to his early emergence.

His crew and those on the other ships would remain in stasis for most of the trip—nearly two months—until this fleet of five ships reached the space station and readied for the critical traverse of the solar fault.

Silent corridors. Only steady, faint vibrations of the motors and mechanisms sounded. Gerren bypassed the lift and cautiously opened a hatchway that would allow him access to the upper levels. On every deep space flight, he had avoided long-term stasis, yet he still expected an alarm to sound—something to announce that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Years of being under surveillance had taken its toll, although the last decade had not been as insistent as the previous fifteen. He would, nonetheless, check everything.

An effective command comes from a broad base of knowledge, Edgar had taught him.

Gerren had said those words to the head of government, Supreme Wills Ruchina, before he departed to the ship. He wasn't certain why they had come to him. It had been years since Gerren thought of Edgar Jahn. But now he clearly remembered the symmetrical face, swarthy skin and chiseled features. Edgar's eyes, under smoothly arched brows, were the shade of quiet lagoons.

"You must be a reasonable person, Gerren," Edgar had instructed him. "No matter what you learn or how it makes you feel, always analyze actions. Don't merely react to your emotions."

He had been "reasonable" ever since Edgar left without him. Died, Gerren had eventually been told, but he felt something else had happened and that he was somehow responsible for Edgar's disappearance. So he had been reasonable, with no more outbursts like the one before Edgar seemed to vanish; he was "reasonable" and acquiesced to everything the former Supreme, Tyus Derkson, expected of him. Derkson always told him he would be a great leader. Derkson had groomed him to be such and Gerren was already the Supreme elect; he would be installed as the fourth Supreme of Yiven when he returned from this important expedition. Gerren's deep thoughts, however, weren't on the government position he would have. This expedition fulfilled his longtime hopes to one day go back to the outer sector. He needed answers about his parents: the mother he didn't remember, and the father who never tried to get him back. Even Edgar had left him. Gerren had to find out why.

A sheen of perspiration marked his hairline when he finally exited the shaft at bridge level. He strode down the hall and stopped at a service panel. From the back of the compartment he withdrew a small scanner he had secreted there; he closed the panel and proceeded to his door. This scanner was his own device, set to locate any surveillance bugs that other units would miss. He wasn't sure what to do if the scan proved his room was, even now, monitored. He tabbed the scan switch.

The door was clean.

Once inside, he moved around the three-room suite searching out any snoopers that might have been activated after he left for the timehold. Nothing. He gave a wry smile, relishing these coming months when he wouldn't have to pose, pretend, or be "reasonable." Other deep space flights he had commanded hadn't afforded him nearly so much time to be completely on his own.

He carried the scanner with him, left the room and walked along a short hallway to the command bridge where he strolled among the banks of various colored sensors, dials, screens and work stations, checking for bugs along the way. Nothing. Gerren chuckled and activated the forward visuals. Deep space seemed to have form, with caverns of blackness stretching from one weak force to another; it encompassed huge voids of unstructured matter. Misty comet tails, cascades of bright dots, and points of light pierced the distance and grew steadily larger as the ship rushed along. He was a master scholar in astrophysics, yet he marveled at the binding energies and pulsating rhythms that held the galaxy together, as if groups of matter were hooked to the rays that streamed from the sun. Revolving. Running their patterns in time.

He could faintly make out the distinctive coloration of the solar fault and looked beyond that, wondering which bright star was Tal. Soon that vagrant body would be concurrent with their own sun. Yiven would be in an aphelion position and would experience few effects, but the outer-sector planets would be between both suns. He couldn't imagine how the outer sector people would survive the heat, the loss of crops and the years of discomfort from the effect of two suns. He still wasn't certain why or how Tyus Derkson had made negotiations with the outer sector. An exchange of grain for that phenomenal fuel, tocris, was the official word. True, the Yivenese could use tocris. The small stockpile that had been stored in the original city pods had long since been depleted, and nucleonic propulsion utilized in spacecrafts was costly. Having tocris would be good. Toward that end, the ships' interiors had been altered to carry the huge amounts of grain they were trading. He had helped to design the system that would discharge the grain and then be reversed to take in the crystalline ore from the outer-sector stockpiles.

The cool temperature of the ship began to chill him. No need for heat when the crew wasn't about. He returned to his quarters and pulled out of the thin body suit he had donned before entering the timehold. He took a quick shower, ridding the chalky sensor-heightening film from his body. Stepping out, he grabbed a towel, but when he flipped it open he stared at the embroidery in the center:

Long Sleep, something is amiss.

Security officers wouldn't have recognized the Yivenese glyphs, but Gerren knew several aborigine dialects. Long Sleep was the name Yivenese used for him because of the decades he had spent in the timehold. He dropped the towel and opened another. Nothing there—just a towel. He checked another: it had decorative swirls, but no glyphs. With the water cooling on his skin, he examined his bedding. Nothing. Returning to the bathroom, he unfolded the towel with the message. While drying with another, he studied the glyphs, as if some answer would appear.

Why this message? Who initiated it?

Senator Elite Marta Tovich flashed to his thoughts. Respected by old and young alike, she had been an honored attendee at the launch facility before Gerren went to the ship. And she had said something to him...No...She had communicated something: Timaht give you courage to endure. As he did then, he thought, Timaht?

Was that strange event related to this Yivenese message secreted in a towel?

He pulled into gray leggings and a turtleneck, and as he slipped on his shipboard boots, he thought he saw a flicker of green at his desk. He went there and studied the console that monitored bridge functions. He had developed the small unit for ship commanders. The system was standard issue on all ships. Nothing showed now. Perhaps he had imagined it—his innate paranoia creating problems where there were none.

An effective command comes from a broad base of knowledge.

"I don't want this mission to go awry because of lack of information."

He headed to the bridge to do a complete check of the ship's systems.

Planning for 2012

We're coming up on a new calendar year, and I'm a firm believer that effective marketing takes a whole lot of planning. Do you do the New Year's Resolution thing? Here are some things to consider.

From a post at GITProductions

If you have a new title in the works, or back listed books that need to be pumped, get your marketing for the entire year planned now. Begin with lists of where and why your titles would have value and generate interest. Include online sites and also the brick-and-mortar world.

Online, book events can be lucrative, from joining blog carnivals, giving interviews, and promotional coupons. It's essential to determine the sites best for your title (and if you have several titles, the sites could be different for each). If your title has a historical or holiday connection, don't wait until a few weeks before the optimum date to line up an interview or promotion; set it up months in advance....

Read the rest here

Poetry Sunday – 9

New World
more poems by Kae
In the circus a man

is caught between two displays:

aerialists and gymnasts fill spotlights

with daring. He is expected



to join one show

or the other, yet

he is dressed in safari clothes

and has no cats to tame.



He feels unskilled for high

wire, and glances at acrobatics

with dismay. Viewers scowl;

disdain skims the air.



From the shadows he grabs hoops

and attempts to juggle. Everyone

laughs, thinking:

He's a clown
.

© 2011 Kae Cheatham

Dead Heroes - It's Live!

Book sales are all about Marketing, so Here it goes The Science Fiction Novel

DEAD HEROES

is now live at Amazon

E-book only

You don't have a Kindle?
That's OK. You can read it while online with Kindle Cloud, or download an APP for PC, smartphones, tablets, and iPod.Dead Heroes is FREE for Kindle Prime subscribers.Print edition coming early in 2012.

What's this Speculative Fiction story about?Generations of government duplicity concerning genetic manipulation have led to segregation and brought a vitalistic culture to the brink of civil war.

A full synopsis is on the Amazon page

Be one of the first to read and review this book.

Dead Heroes – Excerpt 4

Sol was still above the ragged peaks of the Forclatt range as Zaya Glen left the small service port near the mountains. She waved goodbye to some colleagues, smiling over the progress they had made as she stepped into her vehicle. She was the director of this vivarium, its very presence testimony to her perseverance. When she had submitted the proposal for large facility a year ago, opposition was rife: "Why keep alive these creatures when we have their DNA and RNA in the computers," argued many. "Four centuries of cloning have given us every delectable meat or poultry to be conceived."

"Storage banks will be subject to the energy demands that we can't fully predict," Zaya had argued. "Our computer system is equally susceptible to possible failures—"
"None of our systems have failed in more than eight centuries!"

"We have not been thus aligned for the Tal Apex since our current accomplishments have been in place. We can't be so arrogant as to overlook all possibilities!" Zaya had stressed.

The word "arrogant" had brought several reprimands from older scholars, but her cherished mentor, Master Scholar Elite, Sage Lanj Gamion, had joined her argument and won over General Assembly members ambivalent to the discussion. The vivarium was established, with Zaya as its head.

With the hovercraft on automatic, she took time to glean dust from her hair before fashioning it into a long braid that she looped and pinned into two circles on the back of her head.

"Send to Paul," she spoke to her personal unit. She fastened the unit to the console and maximized the screen. Paul Berklin, her Life Partner, answered, his face on the screen showing a reserved smile. "Some problems at the vivarium," she said. "I'll be at my office later than I thought—to get month-end updates done for my classes."

"So no family dinner this evening," he said with reproof.

"I'll try to get there—"

"Actually, we've already eaten: myself, Tammir, and Sinoa."

"Oh. Well...I expect to wrap up here in the next hour or so," she said. "See you all then."

"Sinoa's off to meet friends—going to hear Sage Gamion, I believe."

Zaya hid her dismay: They had planned for this to be a family outing—all of them going to the park together.

"Tammir and I decided to stay here and watch it on the tel. Shall I save you a copy?" Paul continued.

"Yes...That would be nice. Thank you."

"All right. See you later." The conversation ended, leaving Zaya with Paul's slight frown.

I must spend more time with my family.

Dust billowed behind the craft, creating a thin haze on the barren landscape. She stared out to where the vehicle lights highlighted gaping cracks. They wandered like old wrinkles across the orange face of New Esrii. Enormous white flowers of the dosan, native to Gari's Desert, now blotched the grasslands, pushing to the edges of the counties Two and Four. And it might get worse. She gave a worried sigh and looked up, unable to see Berant, but hoping the work there to build protection around that volatile asteroid was proceeding as well as her own project.

A small device above her right rib cage vibrated. Surprised, she sat back, but let it tremble a bit longer. She hadn't expected any contact until after the meeting of the General Assembly. Finally, with a touch she quieted the device and opened her compac. After entering several codes on various encrypted pages, she read the Hurist message: Mtg 2mor 0700, at HQ. H.P.

The Hurist. A legendary facet of New Esrii culture. The Hurist motto was To Perpetuate True Insight and Cultural Integrity. Certainly a statement with which Zaya agreed. She had attended some lectures back when she was in Prep, and a few times while she studied at Varsity and then Seminary. Tomorrow would be her fourth meeting with the group leadership, having been asked to join them after the previous County Two representative, a retired scholar Zaya had studied with fifteen years ago, expired. She had sent condolences to the family, not realizing that the man's death would create this opportunity for her.

That wasn't the only persuasion for her involvement. Six of the current eleven commanders had found mental focus on a single phrase in one column in the more than fifty-three billion books in the Hall of Memories. Zaya had awakened one morning with the image in her head; she told her counselor about it and the woman told her what she had seen—the passage in the old Sights. "I have found someone who can read the writing," she told Zaya at a follow-up visit. She gave her a printed copy of the quote: There will be a time when the our citizens will not be of one world; when the life forms will vary, but mind energies will flag. Beware the infiltrators! They will sap rationality from the masses and be hard to cull from the norm. From them will come a crisis far greater than we fear from Tal.

At that time, six months ago, Zaya couldn't imagine a crisis worse than Tal's passage.

Then three days ago had come information from the deep space satellite, Izmir II, showing a flotilla on apparent trajectory to the inner sector space station that had been placed there centuries ago, but, because of Tal, abandoned for nearly a generation. Zaya always thought the information from Izmir II fed directly to the General Assembly mainframe; she wondered how the Hurists obtained it, and the information it had sent was curious.

"Warships!" the aged Punataa had declared after setting up a conference call to the Hurist commanders. A Master Scholar Elite in two fields, and a Sage in metaphysical interpretation, Punataa was the oldest of the Hurist Coalition leadership. "They're going to attack us during the Tal Apex."

"Attack? Why ever would they do that?" Majreed Burda asked.
Conjecture had heightened, including Master Scholar Elite Tandra Licafol's suggestion that the Yivenese must have associates on New Esrii helping them. "The war armada comes from without—outside our sector," she insisted, referring to the passage that had pulled Zaya, Majreed Burda and four others to the group leadership. "And anarchists are within our society aiding them."

"Licafol, you've gone from a dubious threat, to a possible war, and now you suggest anarchy?" Master Scholar Sandor Vhutan said.

"The General Assembly will address this possible war fleet, as you call it, Master Punataa," M.S. Daiten Chang put in. "Nothing for us to do until after the General Assembly meeting. Once we see what course the GA lays out, we'll know where to intercede and how we can best enhance the proceedings."

Zaya and five others had agreed with Chang.

And now, although no reason given for this sudden call (high priority and at headquarters, no less), she wondered if new information had been found, and this would be on the agenda. Tomorrow at 0700, she thought.

Consternation settled in. She had planned to have breakfast with her oldest child, Dannel, who was returning to planet after thirteen days. That would be early. If she changed their meeting place, perhaps she could still.


Learn the history of New Esrii at the Web site
Release date: 24 December 2011
Dead Heroes - a Sci-Fi story of death...and life.

Bound For the Promise-Land – Review

I purchased the electronic edition of Bound For the Promise-Land after seeing it mentioned several times in a Facebook Western Authors group. The positive comments there were not misplaced.

The story (cobbled from two different Goodreads book pages):

"Freedom is not a place you run to…Freedom is a place in your soul." These words sum up the life long quest of ex-slave Alfred Mann as he pursues the dream of equality in a world not of his making. From fugitive to Medal of Honor winner, Mann carries on to rise above the ignorance and intolerance of those who seek to bring him down; somehow gaining strength from the unimaginable losses he suffers and his own self doubt.
From the shackles of slavery to the smoky battlefields of the Civil War, from Reconstruction South to Northern race riots to fighting Indians on the Western Plains, Alfred proves to the world and to himself that he is a man.

The first-person protagonist of Alfred Mann came through with great believability, both his actions and his emotions; the many battle scenes were portrayed with gut wrenching intensity. They were very well written. This book is deserving of the 2001 SPUR Award it received [paperback edition], and I'm glad it is now available for e-books.

I haven't given this book five stars for personal reasons. Troy D. Smith is an American History scholar, and I consider myself that, too (although I don't have a .PhD). My knowledge of the events Smith wrote about is firmly in place, so I found myself flipping through some of the book thinking, 'Yep. I knew that.' The history was excellently portrayed, but, for me, I often felt I was getting too much history.

But this brings up another "problem"—not with Smith's writing or his characterizations, but with a caveat placed in the front matter by this publisher: "...the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author..." This line is a disservice to readers and to Smith. Many of the events actually did happen; several of the personages were real 19th Century people. Someone not well versed in American History should be made aware of that. Smith's mind and imagination eloquently placed his protagonist, Alfred Mann, in the events and had him interacting with American personalities such as Black Jack Pershing, Benjamin Greirson, Victorio and others. This is not easy to pull off. Bravo, Dr. Smith!

And on this same note, I would have appreciated an Addend with suggested reading, and/or an Author's note that would tell which events and people were from actual history. This is a fairly common practice with authors of historical fiction, myself included. The information would be great for high school students and other "young" readers of American History.

So is this a picky little thing I mention? Dunno. Might be just me. And that's what reviews are all about.
Final comment: excellent book. Read it!

Dead Heroes – Excerpt 3

Here's more of the science fiction novel Dead Heroes. This character, Sinoa, is instrumental in the development of the story. Read the Overview to get a hint at how.

Sinoa Glen-Berklin entered the seniors' canteen and frowned at the laughter and loud talk. The day before recess always presented this frivolous mood, while other times were more quiet with students studying or debating while they imbibed and munched snacks. She peered around the room and her expression softened when a young woman raised her arms and waved to her.

"Hi, Kwen," Sinoa said when she reached the small table. "I was afraid I'd missed you." Sinoa slumped into the chair opposite her friend.

"What's up? You look ragged," Kwen Oldmin said. "Was teaching that bad?"

Sinoa punched in a request for a fruit drink and gave a long sigh. "It was going all right until recitation, and then the students started arguing about Tal and Sol, and which one was a star and which a sun. Then at the end of class they started name calling and shouting."

"You must have a bunch of dorm kids in there. They can be rowdy."

"It wasn't an AG that started it. Anyway..." The mechan delivered her drink. Sinoa took a grateful gulp. "I got a summons to see an advisor. I figured I had really messed up, but he didn't even mention the two outbursts. He wanted to know why the AGs were advancing faster than the others, and asked if I was somehow tutoring them."

"That's pretty silly. What can we do without the advisors getting a report. With our uniform tags, we can barely pee without their knowing."

"I hope the tags don't pick up audio." Sinoa snickered, then continued, "He asked me if I was partial to AGs." Sinoa shook her head. "Did you ever get asked that?" Kwen was three levels ahead of Sinoa and had completed her student teaching.

Kwen chuckled. "Ah, no...That never came up."

Sinoa couldn't decipher the slight smirk on her friend's face. "So I'm a bit rattled."

"Well, maybe you can cheer up with my good news. I got my chit to order my Varsity togs," Kwen grinned. "That makes it official, don't you think?"

"Terrific!"

"I start orientation on the tenth; full classes on the fifteenth."

"I'm so happy for you. But—well, I'll sure miss you."

"You've only got a few more months and you'll be at Varsity, too." Kwen leaned forward, still smiling. "Oh, I went to C-level. Peeked in at your brother's baby. He's getting big!"

"I know. I check on him every day. He'll be one of the last babies to come aware before the Apex."

"He ought to get a prize or something. I haven't seen sign of a blemish, either," Kwen said. "No big moles; he has all his fingers and toes." Kwen glanced at her watch. "Oh oh, I have to get going. Have CWD in less than an hour."

"You'll miss Sage Gamion in the park!"

"I know." Kwen pulled a long face. "Luta and Ginnabor and some of the others are going." She stood and pushed her shoulder length curls into the hood of her tunic. "I'll talk to you later. Oh, and don't let that advisor rattle you. I'll bet you're doing fine with the teaching. Rankings will be up in a few days. You'll see." Kwen gave Sinoa's shoulder a squeeze as she started for the door.

"Right," Sinoa said, still worried. She needed a good teaching record to boost her Mental Achievement Ranking, which was fifty-five—high for a person her age. After another few swallows of her drink, she pulled out and activated her compac. On her first day of teaching she had forgotten to turn off the unit. She got a call in the middle of class, and was reprimanded for it. Now she didn't forget.

Only one message, she didn't recognize the call numbers.

"Sinoa. I'm arriving on planet late this afternoon," said a voice she did recognize. She smiled. Nathan was from the County 3 she had met him while working on Krellanon. "I'm planning to attend the presentation by your city's elder. Will you meet me in the park this evening?" the message went on.

Yes indeed, she thought. Fond of aviation, they had twice spent leisure moments racing rented vehicles through Krellanon's blue ravines. They once worked together at maintenance on a V-real pod in the dormitory lounge; Sinoa liked his sense of humor. He had left a number for her reply. Sinoa quickly called and was told to leave a message. "I'll be there a bit early to get a good seat. At the large arches by the south entrance." She clicked off and hoped she didn't sound too eager.

Smiling, she gave a happy sigh and finished her drink. Maybe the whole day wouldn't be a disaster.

E-book goes live on 24 December 2011
Are you interested?

Poetry Sunday 8

December

Gray deer hesitates.
Icy ripples crease the pond.
Stars are close like eyes.

Cloaked in pale stillness
Winter rides white flakes to earth.
Cocoons shelter spring.

© Kae Cheatham
All Rights Reserved

Dead Heroes – Overview

Nathan. Sinoa. Zaya. Gerren.

They live in a time of deception, where generations of government duplicity have led to inequality and segregation. It's a time of uncertainties, with the star, Tal, from a neighboring galaxy on a tangential orbit that will closely pass New Esrii. Preparations to withstand the predicted hardships have been underway for several years. But now comes a new problem. A fleet of ships is approaching from another planet in their system. The covert Hurist Coalition, watchdog of New Esrii culture, is certain these approaching ships will attack them. The reason for their alarm is deep in the culture's history, when dissidents were shunted aside so advancements could be made in this vitalistic society.

e-book publication date 24 December 2011

Read more on the DEAD HEROES web site
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