Dan Melson's Blog, page 8

Excerpt from The Monad Trap

"Somehow, I thought there would be more for a god to do." "Why husband, you always seem busy enough," Petra replied."Those are my own projects, and I know I spend more time than you would prefer on them. But I presumed the position of being a god came with its own duties and requirements. Thus far, I have found none.""Husband, we are both Eternals - minor gods as such things go. We know there are at least two tiers above us. I spent ten thousand years and more as an Immortal. Outside of the chains of my creation, I was never tasked with anything. Art thou disappointed?" She'd taken to wearing what I called her Ultimate Lady from The Next Farm Over appearance most of the time we were together. She appeared as a dusky, light brown-skinned young lady with shoulder length medium brown hair, just barely into the first flush of maturity and shapely to the point where she drew eyes from all the men, even now at the end of her pregnancy with our first child. Petra's skin glowed with health, her hair shone with golden highlights in the soft brown. Nothing exaggerated or fancy - her breasts and buttocks were if anything slightly smaller than average, her parts just all fit together perfectly. Her hairstyle was dead simple - straight with just a hint of wave. She never wore complex fashions or glaringly sexual clothes or anything that clung too tightly, just simple and loose, hinting at the lush curves beneath. Nor was she particularly thin. Maybe by some perverse standards she might even be a little overweight. She almost never used cosmetics of any sort. But most women of King Edvard Haraldsson's court hated her for the way she drew male eyes despite everything they did to keep attention centered on themselves. They'd never understand what Petra had spent ten thousand years learning - men liked simple and elegant. These days, Petra was happy and content, and that amplified attraction even more."Nay, O Lady of My Heart, I am not disappointed, but happily surprised. The fact it is a happy surprise does not alter the fact it is a surprise. Why does the universe allow us to exist, when it does not require our assistance? Why are we thus privileged? There must be some purpose to allowing us this power.""Why question thy good fortune, husband?""I am ultsi, milady, by habit if not by fact. We are seekers after knowledge, which requires us to be askers of questions, and I'm not explaining myself clearly, so let's approach it from another direction. Have you ever seen a living thing simply exist?""Trees. Grass.""Trees and grass do not simply exist. They're in competition for soil and sunlight and water. All the other trees and blades of grass want these same things, and there's only so much to go around. Where are our competitors?""Other gods.""The niche seems suspiciously empty. One of the rules is populations expand to make full use of resources. Doesn't it seem that with so much energy available, there would be more and more beings clamoring to take it for their own survival? Yet it seems that there's plenty there for all, and there's a disturbing next question.""I would rather not be disturbed at present, husband, but it does seem that the number of gods is increasing."I let the next question lie for now. "And our rivals?""Kiltig and Klikitit would fit that description."She had a valid point. Perhaps I came from a place so energy-starved that we'd been forced to learn to make more efficient use - and now suddenly I'd been given access to a place where all the energy you could want was there for the taking, and my competitors simply had less ability to take advantage of that energy? But resource rich environments served as a beacon for organisms from less fecund locales. Aescalon was so energy rich its divinities never learned skills that even the weakest martsi and natsi - ordinary humans with the weakest level of mind power - learned as a matter of course. "Not the same thing, milady. Those are personal animosities. Given the energy rich environment of Aescalon and its fountain of plentiful energy, there should be so many gods clamoring to partake that there is none to spare. I can think of two possible reasons why this is not the case, but I'm unable at the present to test either hypothesis.""What are those possibilities?""First, that the amount of energy has seen a recent increase, although 'recent' in this case is in terms of natural time, and I've insufficient data on the length of divine generations. The second is that there was a population collapse - something caused the number of divinities to drop - and we're still building back up to equilibrium. In either case, resources would seem to be plentiful until the new population increased to fill the niche."Copyright 2020 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.

Excerpt from 'The Fountains Of Aescalon

My brother been right; the antigravity stopped working as soon as I was through. The pallet collapsed heavily onto the two axles I'd just installed. The surface I was on was hard rock. Despite the fact that all I could see or perceive of this place was flat or at most gently sloping, all of the rock appeared to be igneous. Granite, basalt, pumice, etcetera, and all the variants, but absurdly rich in uncommon elements. Crystalline minerals glittered upon the surface in profusion up to the size of my hand or so, and my perception informed me that this was the case below the surface as well. Many of those crystals were precious or semi-precious stones. Pools and puddles of water ranging in size from nothing on up to perhaps a couple ifourths across speckled the landscape, the markings of small streams flowing out of them. This place broke all the rules of planetary geology. At least the rules we thought we knew, and the Empire had seen trillions of planets and planetoids.Smaller rocks and loose soil were practically non-existent. Nor did there seem to be any sort of indigenous life. No plants at all. I wondered where the oxygen-rich air was coming from.True to the warning, the dimensionality here was roughly three point twelve. Due to higher dimensionality, material borders were somewhat more difficult to traverse - the fractal surfaces generated more friction with the cart's tires than a strictly three dimensional surface would have. It seemed that the most recent rain couldn't have been too long ago. I didn't see signs of significant evaporation from the natural limits of the depressions sheltering the water. But what my perception 'saw' was completely unexpected - the water was charged with an energy that reminded me of quantum foam, but tangible in the macroscopic universe, the richest source for matra I'd ever seen, or been told of for that matter. The water literally shone in some of the larger pools, merely glittering in the smaller ones. Perhaps the difference in intensity was a clue to how long it had been?A trail had been worn onto the rock nearby, and people were following it. How had a trail become worn in a place seemingly devoid of plant life, which by all the rules I knew would have also precluded animal life?Around me were several different sorts and even different species of what were obviously sentients, although even on the trails, there was plenty of room between individuals or groups. Humans I obviously recognized. There were also human variants, like a group of tall pale white stick-thin people with bright blue or violet eyes and hair that ranged from white to pale blue to pale yellow. It wasn't the thin of starvation or inactivity as they had excellent muscle definition, instead it seemed to be what was natural for them. I did a quick scan; genetically they were as human as I was, which is to say human with a few additions. As I walked, I discovered that there were also an amazing variety of nonhumans, from anthropoid to saurian to insectoid and just about everything else imaginable. As I said, this place appeared to break all the rules I thought I knew.The trails seemed to follow mostly higher points in the terrain. At irregular intervals, there would be a junction or a branching. Some of them were barely footpaths, others were worn so smooth and wide they might as well have been a paved highway. Gently sloping swaths of bare rock surrounded us, none of them more than a few times human height. Despite the presence of the various sentients within my sight range, there were no permanent structures visible anywhere.Visibility was low; there was a ubiquitous mist. Vision was restricted to no more than a few minutes' walk at most. At times, it was as low as perhaps sixty long paces or so. Nonetheless, it seemed we were on the inside of what could be most easily described as the hollowed out center of a large rock, the cavern no bigger than I could travel completely around at an easy pace in a few hours. What was holding us to the surface of the enclosing rock wasn't easy to describe. It wasn't gravity, and it wasn't centripetal force like an annular habitat. It seemed to be a byproduct of dimensionality that seemed to increase the closer you got to the center of the cavern. It seemed I weighed no more than half what I had on Nexus, but dimensionality varied from barely more than three to three point eighteen just over the narrow range of elevations I'd already encountered. Up at the very center, it seemed most likely dimensionality would be the full eleven. You could hear water falling constantly; sometimes the trail would parallel a small stream for a distance. Above us, somewhere in the mist, were some kind of multicolored light sources. I wasn't certain how many there were at present but I was certain there was more than one. The thick mist precluded shadows, but there were diffraction patterns in the mist that were beautiful, gold and blue and red and white sparkles. Further establishing the particulars seemed like something that could wait until I was established.On second thought, maybe what I heard wasn't necessarily water. It was liquid, and the only liquid I'd seen was water, but I couldn't be certain that all of the liquid I was hearing was water. And since my brain had kicked in, I decided that before I wandered off too far I'd better mark my point of arrival and see if I couldn't figure out the translation that had brought me here. An inter-bubble gate was a major working; I should be able to back trace it for some time but it would never be easier than now. No, I wasn't planning to renege on my deal to leave the Empire and stay out, but knowing where I was in relation to the Empire would be useful someday. Besides, if survival necessitated me sneaking back to the Empire at some point in the future, better I was in a position to make that decision based upon practicality rather than have ignorance eclipse one of my options. With that in mind, I began a return to my starting point.Copyright 2018 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved

First Draft Excerpt from Politics of Empire book 4.

It's looking more and more like a fifth book will be required, so using "Measure Of Adulthood" as a working title. It may change before publication.*******As far as what to do in the interim, I was kind of regretting not bringing the dogs. Given that I'd have to cut it short whenever I got the notification I was third in line, it seemed rude to me to just show up unannounced with family and expect them to make time for me. Still, I sent messages to Luz and Esperanza and to Carmen and David, not expecting a reply. But Luz called almost immediately."Luz?""Grace! It is you! So glad to hear you're on Earth!""Only for a few hours, waiting for my turn to talk to a government agency." Imperial hours were 1.7 of Earth's old measure, but still. "I'll be leaving after. Sorry but I have to get back.""What brings you back to Earth but not long enough to see family?"I realized she didn't know - Dalia had never told her. "I'll tell you when I get there. Where are you?""At the Earth Dogs office. I'm the Dog Lady figurehead for Earth now. David does all the real work. It won't matter if I step out for a while, and he can find me if he needs me.""Where is the new office?" The Pendleton Zone had been wrecked in the first days of the war, but that was fiftyone Imperial years ago here."Same place it was when Dalia ran things. We moved back in as soon as the building could take us. We've got three floors now. I'll meet you at reception."I set the portal and stepped through, found myself in front of a significantly larger tower than I remembered - probably closer to thirty ifourths than twenty in height, and a larger footprint as well. Other towers of similar size showed to the south and east. I surmised the landlord had decided the demand would support the bigger buildings. Earth Dogs was listed as being on the fifteenth floor; I called an elevator and rode up. The buildings may have been larger than before, but they still weren't big enough to support a portal on every level, let alone multiple portals per level as the much bigger arcologies on Indra and other core Imperial worlds did.The elevator opened on a lobby looking out over the Pacific Ocean from a height of perhaps three ifourths, which gave plenty of height to see San Clemente Island and Catalina further north. Dalia had never wanted the upper levels of the tower, just something high enough for a little bit of view. The tower might have been rebuilt, but Earth Dogs was about the same height as it had been before the invasion.Luz was waiting at reception - she looked exactly like she had as a young mother, all those years ago. Maybe three isixths shorter than me, same shoulder-length wavy dark hair, just a shade or two from black. "Luz!""Grace! So good to see you!" We hugged, and she asked, "Can I have Brenda take our picture? It'll be good for the newsletter and some other places."I saw a young-looking woman with her red hair in curls. "Brenda is...?" I expected her to be a family member I didn't recognize. It had been fiftyone years here since my last visit."Brenda is our receptionist. Sorry Grace. There wasn't enough family left after...""I'm not upset about that. I'm upset that four prime thirtysix of our relatives died. I should have expected you'd have to hire more from outside the family. You've done well, though. Earth Dogs is actually an increasing share of my income.""Give David the credit for whatever our Earth office has achieved. Peter is the big boss these days, but he's out in the Empire. I'm here because even though David's been married to Carmen for almost two centuries, he's still a spouse." She was talking Earth years; it was approaching five prime Imperial years. I owned a quarter of Earth Dogs, but I hadn't been involved in management since I left Earth. My remaining siblings and other surviving family owned the rest. If they wanted a blood relative as official head or public face of the company, their wishes would prevail. "Did you want a tour?""Not really. Just wanted to do what catching up I could in whatever time I have here. Are the Lees still here?""Sorry, Grace, none of them survived the demons."Damn. "Where do you get Chinese food these days, then?""Haven't really found anywhere in particular. The younger generation doesn't seem to be as good."Understandable. They'd grown up with converters and programming rather than meat and vegetables and spices. "What do you recommend, then?""Not really hungry, Grace; we just had lunch here." It was noon by the sun or maybe a bit after. "Want to come back to my office and talk? I'll order you something.""No, that's okay. How about a walk? I think I need to talk to someone." I didn't need to eat. I'd been hoping for good Chinese food while I was on Earth. Now that I knew the Lees were gone, I wasn't hungry."Really? You haven't asked to talk to anyone for a couple centuries now. Why not your husband?""Because he already knows, and he's not here. Please Luz, I need to tell someone in the family. Dalia knew, but she's gone now.""The only walk is the memorial along the beach. Too depressing."I had one of my para pull up the information. It was paved with the pictures of people who'd died in the demonic invasion. The two fourths who'd died in Los Angeles had been the lowest casualty count of the seven major assault points, but they'd included more than four fifths of my Earth family. "Then how about just through the streets of the industrial park? It's not like we're going to get lost or assaulted." I just wanted a plausible illusion of privacy."Grace, my private office is what I'll offer. Take it or leave it."Her private office would be bugged by everyone and their great-aunt Zelda. I doubted Earth Dogs kept someone on staff to keep it clear - it would be a major expense on an Earth where Guardians - or even partly trained operants - were rare. But I supposed I could do something about it for now. "I'll take it."She led me back through the offices of Earth Dogs. Unlike the cube farms of my youth, the people who worked on-site would have reason to offer guests at least the illusion of privacy. Accordingly, they were corridors lined with small private offices, doors open. Offices on my left had an actual window to the outside and most were larger than the offices on my right, which were internal and barely big enough for the occupant and a couple of human guests and perhaps a furry one or two. Floors were tiled in something that might have been travertine by the look of it, but perception told me it was thicker and more durable. Perhaps it was marble, now that everything came out of a converter anyway. Being the company Earth Dogs was, there were a sprinkling of dogs in with the workers, from some teacup toy mix I wasn't sure of to a big Rottweiler in one of the offices on the interior side.Luz's office occupied the corner closest to the ocean. The coastline runs closer to westbound than north in that area, but the building had been built so two sides had almost equally good views, and she had the corner between. The floor was the same pseudo-marble as the rest, but the walls were richly paneled in dark hardwood or a converter-produced close facsimile. The chairs might not have been leather, but they looked and felt like it. There was enough mist or fog in the air to limit the visibility, but she still had a view of several miles of the California coast through pristine glassteel. The sun itself was just visible high on my far left as we took seats across the hardwood expanse of her desk. Despite the opulence, the office had a feel of being little-used. My perception showed me seven bugs in various places within the office; I destroyed all of them with matris, not worrying about their provenance. Copyright 2023 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.

Excerpt from The End Of Childhood (Politics of Empire Book 3)

"Nothing in the Game of Houses is certain and nothing is forever. The only guarantee is we all die someday."I still remember the first time I heard that - Scimtar himself said it to me while training me as a Guardian. Eventually we all make the fatal mistake. That said, the fact it was Scimtar saying it changed the subtext - he'd been playing the game for over thirty square. Just because you were going to die someday didn't mean it had to be today or any time soon. Maybe the metaphorical dice would come up snake eyes for you today. Maybe you had enemies who'd do their best to make it happen. But you got to influence those dice, too. The leaders of the Empire were all masters at loading the dice in their favor, or better yet, controlling the outcome so the dice were never rolled.But you're not the only one the dice can turn fickle on...-Graciela Juarez di ScimtarIt never begins dramatically.It started on an ordinary day, when I'd been doing the perfectly ordinary thing of gathering evidence for a hearing. The case I was investigating had to do with the tort of infringement. In this case the plaintiff was alleging the defendant was generating excessive noise and interfering with the plaintiff's enjoyment of their property. Evidently, the defendant had refused negotiation on the subject and so the case was going before the relevant Primus the next day.Both were out on the fringes of Sumabad, out in the hills, out where the towering arcologies holding tens of millions each petered out, and the residents generally had reasons to need or want ground space. The plaintiff was an academy for self-defense, with classrooms for hand to hand disciplines and ranges for things like disruptors, lasers, flechette guns, and even the occasional firearm. The other was the Grubaro Club, a nightclub catering largely to the Tumar culture which had a large presence in Sumabad and environs. Tumars liked explosions while they were eating and dancing. Tumars thought loud noises were exciting and envigorating. Unfortunately for their neighbors, these explosions and other noises often reached ear-splitting levels, and it was not only disrupting to the peaceful conduct of the instruction at Hills Academy for Preparation and Discipline next door, many of the patrons and instructors were combat veterans. It wasn't my place to judge, but I was pretty sure the Primus was going to mostly rule against the Grubaro Club - they had a responsibility to see that any noise they generated did not disturb their neighbors, and my spak recording was getting readings consistently louder than an original Learjet on high-power takeoff.Scimtar himself contacted me. Grace, I have a job if you're interested, or rather a series of jobs. Mixed family and imperial. It involves demonic traces, mostly spraxos and nephraim.I was no longer the barely trained woman who'd been nervous about facing a terostes by herself, but neither was I a Sixth or Seventh Order Guardian. I was mid-range Fourth Order - albeit trained by House Scimtar. Furthermore, if I were observed taking on spraxos, that could be the end of me pretending to still be Second Order. What's it entail?We're seeing a surge in the number of demonic traces, not only here in Indra System but everywhere in the Empire. The conclusion is obvious.Trolling for traitors. It was what the fractal demons did. The vast majority of their troops would be easy pickings for Imperials when the inevitable confrontation came. Unless they could get us to turn on each other, the eventual war would be notable mostly for a lopsided casualty count. They'd seduced the old stons without anyone realizing it until the old Empire was already gone, resulting in a civil war that ended up destroying the Empire - and afterwards, almost the entire human species. This time the leaders of the Empire were alert for their tactics.The assignment?Match demonic traces to human contacts by Event Line congruency. Investigate the human contacts by behavior. If you happen to destroy demons, we'll pay a bounty - nephraim are worth three fourths, spraxos thirty. Ancillaries too, although manesi and lemuure aren't worth much. What we're looking for is evidence to convict or exonerate treason, and we'll double your normal rate for results.Copyright 2021 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved

Excerpt from The Price Of Power (Politics of Empire Book Two)

Ilras, quit trying to squirt your sister with ketchup. The inverse square law is on her side.But mom! I'm just trying to teach her defense! Meanwhile, baby Imtara giggled in delight at frustrating her brother's dastardly plan.Dear, even if she was asleep, she'd have plenty of time to wake up and divert the stream. She's well past that drill. All you're doing is giving the dogs a mess to clean up. Ilras didn't realize it, but his sister had ally. Esteban, the oldest at six Imperial years of age (4 Earth), scooped together a good-sized dollop with matris, stealthed it with a buffer of matra and brun, and flung it at his younger brother. I usually expected better behavior from Esteban, but under the circumstances, I let it slide.Splat! It caught Ilras right on his jawline. No fair! Ilras cried indignantly, then had the awareness to look abashed when I gave him the mental equivalent of a cocked eyebrow. Ilras wasn't ready for the drills Esteban was doing yet, and Esteban had just made use of that fact to slip a counter-attack his brother wasn't ready for under his defenses. Given the impetus of an older brother who wasn't above using his advantages, I suspected Ilras would learn quickly.Meanwhile, Mischief, our English Cream longhair miniature dachshund, gave a plaintive whine that she'd been deprived of her snack, most of which was now plastered across Ilras' face, and looked expectantly at Esteban for a replacement. Her name really was doubly appropriate; we ended up calling her Miss Chief about half the time. How she knew Esteban was responsible for her deprivation, I don't know, but no replacement was forthcoming. Scarecrow, our chocolate and tan shorthair male, gave a muted but pre-emptory bark informing us he wanted ketchup, too. We were at the table; we studiously ignored them.I felt a muted thunk as Tina, my assistant, slid us into the control plug of my latest contract, followed a few seconds later by a datalink message of control verified, ready for Vector. I'd chosen Tina for the job because she was my niece and already a fully qualified in-system navigator, but despite my hopes after six years nearly constant exposure to the kids, she hadn't gone operant yet, so I still had to do all the Vectoring. I relieved her, re-computed the Vector for confirmation, performed it, verified position, and (because our next pickup was in this same system) transferred the helm back to her for in-system maneuvering to our next job. It had taken all of six seconds, and I'd still had a couple of para to keep the peace at the dinner table.Mama, how long until we can play with baby Alden? Ilora wanted to know again.About three more weeks, honey, I told her. Truth be told, despite all the advantages of being a Guardian, I was ready for my last pregnancy to be over. Next time, I would plan on one child, two at the most. But I really had only myself to blame - I could have just used artificial gestation for Esteban, same as everyone else, and then most of the Empire wouldn't have known about the advantages of operant mothers carrying operant children themselves. I'd introduced Alden to his older siblings on several occasions, but most of the time, kept him swaddled away where only I or Asto could interact with him. Since Asto was a First Corporal, assigned as executive officer of a squadron of Planetary Surface troops out in Ninth Galaxy, that didn't happen as often as any of us liked. The rank was an almost exact match to Brigadier General in the old US Army; a squadron was 14,400 combat troops plus their support staff of roughly another 3600.Alden, for his part, wanted out into the great wide world. It took two of my para full time to keep him occupied and learning, and he still wasn't satisfied. Can I play with Ilras and Esteban, Mom? It was tempting to just blow off the last three weeks of this pregnancy, knowing any physical defects could be fixed later, but neither I nor Asto was ready to experiment with Alden's emotional development. The Empire had tens of thousands of years of evidence children were more able to deal with the world after a full gestation, even in an artificial womb. Neither of us wanted to experiment more than we'd already done with our own children, carrying them naturally as I'd done.Dinner was just about over, winding down with chocolate ice cream for everyone, when Asto told me, It's official!Children, some news. Your father is getting a new assignment. He's going to be a Staff Corporal assigned to maintenance and repair in Indra System! We're going to go live in the Residence, where he can be home every day!Why is he getting demoted? Esteban wanted to know. Staff Corporal was a four grade drop, although two of them were staff grades, out of the line of command.Because he's transferring to a space unit. You always transfer from Planetary Surface to Strategic Space or Tactical Space at a lower rank. He'd be expected to absorb an entirely new set of protocols; but a maintenance and repair assignment meant he'd henceforth be eligible for direct transfers or promotions within either of the space-borne branches.Copyright 2018 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.

New Sales Channel: Gumroad

Spent some time getting another sales channel set up for my books. Gumroad works with BookFunnel, delivering .pdf files that can be read on any device that has a version of Adobe Acrobat Reader for it (Both Mac and PC, tablets, and both Android and Apple phones to my certain knowledge have Acrobat Reader. It comes installed on most; it's free to download if not). So no more worries or excuses about device compatibility.You buy on Gumroad, you should get redirected immediately to BookFunnel to download the file although some security suites block the redirect (mine does). You also get sent an email with a delivery link, click the link and download the book file.I've tested all of my books; every single one works.My gumroad profile is https://danmelson.gumroad.com/All of my books except one are available to purchase at the link. The exception is the Rediscovery Omnibus, because it's too long for BookFunnel to deliver as one file. You can buy all four novels in it.

Excerpt From 'The Invention Of Motherhood'

Pregnancy is dangerous in the EmpireFor thousands of years, Imperial women have used artificial gestation. But Grace was born on barbarian, pre-contact Earth. She can't call herself a mother without doing it the hard way at least once.Grace has married into one of the most important families in the Empire - and Imperial politics are deadly at the top.Despite the risks, she discovers that there are advantages, both to herself and to her unborn baby.The Empire will never be quite the same again.******Grace I would like to ask you about extending.The telepathic message was not unexpected. I had twelve days - three Imperial weeks - to go in my twenty year commitment to the Imperial military. In our capacity as Merlon's Eyes, Asto and I had been all over the Empire in that time, from the thinly human Thirtyfifth Galaxy where the aliens were barely more advanced than the Earth where I'd been born, to the Second and Fourth Galaxies, where humans had a more substantial presence for much longer, and the alien species inhabiting them were therefore technologically competitive with the Empire.I was, and had been, for several years, a Staff Private. The Eyes recruited closely bonded husband and wife operant teams (or the equivalent), valuing the rapport that made such teams work more like two fingers of the same hand. But Merlon's Eyes still had to work within their roles in the Imperial military. An Eye who was a Section Private was a Section Leader with additional duties, as I had been for three years prior to making Staff Private. I would have made Platoon Private by now, except that I was getting close to timing out of the military. Officers selecting for promotion wanted someone with more time left on their contract than I did.My husband Asto had just made Staff Corporal, three grades above me, but his commitment was not expiring. Asto had agreed to a sixty year commitment when he signed up. I'd initially agreed to ten, extending ten more to justify our selection as Eyes, but that was it. I wasn't making a big deal about my - our - plans, but I'd done my share of pulling the wagon for a while. I wanted to start our family, so I was letting my contract expire.Which was what First Corporal Whelsed wanted to talk to me about. But that didn't mean I wanted to talk to her about it. I have other plans. In fact, I've already made promises. I'm here for another twelve days, then I'm going home for a visit. Twenty Imperial years was the same duration as fourteen Earth years, but time on Earth ran about four times faster than the Imperial Home Instance. It had been nearly sixty years on Earth since my last visit.Earth wasn't really home any longer, but it was where I was from. I might not even recognize it any more. Fifty years before I was born, Riverside had been mostly citrus groves. The advent of the Empire was certainly no less of a change than the urbanization of California after World War II.So go home for a visit, but give me a contract to extend first. We'll write leave of whatever duration you want into the new contract.That's not the only plan I have, sir. Technical ang was unisex, but English "sir" captured the connotations better than other alternatives. Whelsed was in my direct chain of command - operations deputy for the squadron I was attached to. Roughly the equivalent of a one-star general in the disbanded US Army.So what are your plans?With respect, sir, none of your business and you know it. I agreed to twenty years. In twelve days, I will have met that commitment and what I do then is my own business.Someone wants to select you for Platoon Private but with twelve days left, it's pointless.People have been declining to select me for Platoon Private for about three years, sir. I've been aware of it the whole time. If I wanted to be a Platoon Private bad enough to extend, I'd have already done it.The Eyes are stretched too thin. They don't want to lose one of their better pairs.I've already extended once for the Eyes, because my husband wanted us to be Eyes. Now it's time for what I want, which is out. For at least sixty years.By which time your husband will be too senior for the Eyes. Asto was something pretty special, even among Guardians. He would be well into the sergeant grades before I considered rejoining the military. Commanders of forty-odd thousand troops or more really couldn't take off for Eyes work. The Empire's command structure was too steep to allow it. In the Planetary Surface troops, any rank other than staff grades went with a specific command assignment. Asto might transfer to Tactical Space or Strategic Space command, but the situation there was no different. You might technically be an Eye forever, but above Company Corporal, only staff grades got actual Eye assignments.As I said, sir, the Eyes got their pound of flesh.What?Sorry, local Earth idiom. I honored my contract, even though I wanted something else. Now are you going to waste my last twelve days trying to persuade me to do something I'm not going to do, do you have an assignment for us, or do I go back to scheduling personnel shuttles?We have an assignment. It might take more than twelve days.Then you'd better get them to assign someone else. Because you know as well as I do what happens if you try to hold me over involuntarily. The Imperial military knew full well people took time out between military tours, sometimes hundreds or even thousands of Imperial years. They didn't want to give people an incentive not to come back by holding them past their contract expiration. Officers at grades where they commanded multiple systems could be involuntarily extended, but that pointedly didn't include me, Asto, or even Whelsed. The lowest grade subject to that was thirty-odd promotions away.They're having trouble finding someone else.If you assign us the mission, I'll do my best for twelve days. Not thirteen. And that assumes you have transport standing by. I'm even willing to pilot my own way back, if I can leave the ship there. We'd formally enlisted at Fulda Base on Indra. The rule was the military was responsible for returning us there for separation by the time the contract expired.Grace, work with me here!I am working with you. I've been working with you these last twenty years. I've honored every last bit of my contract, but you're assuming you're entitled to more of my life than I've contracted to give you. You're not. I might point out that I'm entitled to nearly two prime days of leave I haven't taken. That was 120 days - half an Imperial year - that I hadn't taken because Asto and I had been so much in demand as Eyes. The Empire didn't really do terminal leave like Earth's bureaucracies, where people used untaken leave to take their last several months off. I'd be paid for it on separation, but they had a contractual right to my services up until the moment my contract expired. It's just that most people did get at least a few days because there wasn't an assignment to fit the time remaining. You are entitled to my best efforts until the end of the Imperial day on one-fortyfour. Not one moment longer, and the fact that I have one-fiftyeight (118 in base 10) days of leave accrued and untaken is evidence I've been more than willing to do my part under the contract. Total leave for twenty years was 240 days; I still had almost half of it.I can't change your mind?No, you can't, Corporal Whelsed. Tell whomever tasked you with trying that I've been looking forward to this day since the moment I agreed to be an Eye. I've done what I agreed, or at least in twelve days I will have done it. I need to be doing something else after.Well, I can't force you, so how long do you think you'll need with the shuttle schedule?I'll be done with it tomorrow, sir. Truth be told I'm mostly fiddling at the edges, anyway. Division will need to make more changes in reaction to events than I will to be happy with it in the theoretical state.Alright, Grace, we'll be damned sorry to lose you, but you're right. You have shuttle runs on the current schedule through one-thirtynine; I'll cut orders sending you to Indra on one-forty. The commander's staff at Fulda base might have something for me to do the last four days, or they might let me go early. Make that probably would; their shuttle schedule would be as settled as ours was, and it was unlikely they'd find other work for only four days.Thank you sir!Thank you, Grace. Whelsed wasn't really a friend, but I was pretty certain she liked me. And good luck.Copyright 2017 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.

First Draft Excerpt from Politics of Empire book 4

I'm starting to lean towards "Measure Of Adulthood" as a title, especially if I end up having to go to a fifth book to finish the series.******I had basically no information on my other son beyond his name, identification number, and the fact he was operant. I was pretty sure he hadn't been born operant, but I had no idea how long he'd been operant. The Empire was better equipped to recognize and enable it than Earth had been, pre-contact. Given the fact that time on Earth ran about four times faster than in the Imperial Home Instance where I'd spend most of the last prime twelve years of my personal duration, he was likely five prime of age while I was just under two, so I'd be trying to mother a son who was considerably older than I was. Assuming I really did decide to take the job on. Theoretically, failing to do so was a clear failure of implied responsibility, but the Empire had been forced to realize there were practical limits. My son must have managed to pass the adulthood examinations at some point, demonstrating he had a mental understanding of the requirements.Why was I responsible at all? The Empire allowed responsibility to be delegated, but never avoided. Even taking into consideration that I'd been an irresponsible fool at the time, I was adult now. Adults took responsibility for past deeds. I'd given him up for adoption, but I couldn't break the chain of responsibility. Only an Imperial Viceroy sitting in judgment could do that. Maybe there was a little bit of gray in that the adoption had taken place before Imperial contact with Earth, but adults didn't plead technical details. The only thing shielding me from responsibility was that my son had demonstrated mental understanding by passing the adulthood tests at some point. Because he'd passed those tests, the law required that he be treated as a responsible adult until he demonstrated he wasn't, and therefore nobody else could be held responsible for his actions between the two events.Sitting around Indra wasn't going to get the situation resolved. I considered requesting a cutter - maybe my son would have stuff to haul - then rejected it. Siphons and converters meant anything bulky could be duplicated easily, and if there were health issues I could heal them myself. A two-seat Starbird would be plenty, and if I were wrong, I could afford to ship whatever it was. I borrowed the aforementioned Starbird from the Residence pool, went through the checklist, and requested departure. Asto wished me luck as I applied thrust to the impellers. Two minutes and one Interstitial Vector later, I was contacting Solar System Traffic Control.It had been thirteen Imperial years since my last visit, four times as long on Earth. Earth wasn't home any more, but it would always be where I was from, and my eyes got a little misty when I made the Vector assigned to a height of about an iprime above surface - evidently I'd hit a moment of peak traffic for the area, and I was number seven in the arrival queue. Few Imperial ships had windows, but knowing the camera feed is live was still something. It would have filled forty-five or fifty (Earth) degrees of the sky had I been outside to look - but not close enough to see anything beyond continents and oceans. I found the beacon path and my traffic, and turned to follow the beacon path Earthwards.Once I'd landed in a parking level and paid, I bought access to Earth's internet and looked up Adulthood Services. After the fractal demons destroyed the Los Angeles basin in the opening days of the war, the political and social center of the area had moved southward. South of the old border had been solidly built up long before the United States voted to disband, so the new development had centered on the northern side of the border in what had been rough terrain south and east of the historical suburbs of San Diego. The arcologies were small by the standards of the core worlds, but they were still two or three ithirds in height by six or ten ifourths square, each one housing ten or twenty square people, with portals and parking garages for Starbirds and Cutters, and freestanding berths for everything bigger on the ground in between. I'd never been in this area before, but I imagined the hills had been steep and rugged once upon a time. They'd now been contoured for surface conservation and hardened, but it looked like the ravines and arroyos were still five or six ifourths below the level of the ridgelines. The arcologies themselves tended to follow the ridgelines more or less, even though most residents wouldn't have an outside window. Some of them were sunk thirty levels or more deeper into the ground on one side than the other. There were streams everywhere, and thriving vegetation. I took a portal to my destination.I'd never dealt with Adulthood Services from this angle before. The various Primuses I'd been working with and Secundus Yeriala herself had put a stream of people into Adulthood Services, but I'd never wanted to pry someone loose from their custody before. My electronic query hadn't gotten much of a response - just 'all inquiries about individuals committed to our care must be handled in person.' I inquired about an appointment, and discovered the soonest available was over a week out - but 'walk ins' were accepted at all times. The estimated wait was currently just over an (Imperial) hour. I checked in, received a spot in the queue, and was told I would be notified when I was third in line, but that I must present myself in person at their office promptly upon that notification. So the obvious thing was to portal in to set the location in my mind, then occupy myself with something until notified. I sealed the Starbird on anti-tamper, walked to the nearest portal, and instructed it to deliver me to the portal closest to my destination.Adulthood Services was an unassuming office in the interior of one of the arcologies just north of the old border. It was more than an ifourth in from the outer walls, far from any real windows, but it still had artificial ones, looking out over what had once been the town of Tecate to the southeast. It was a satellite office as the Secundus for North America was based in Mexico City. Over five prime Imperial since the Empire had taken over Earth, and it still had more than double its share of failed adults. Most of it was because life expectancy was now something like twelve prime, but a significant amount was younger people refusing to let go of self-serving rationalizations created by power-hungry demagogues and spread by official propaganda for decades before the Empire arrived. Earth may not have been the planet with the highest rate of adulthood failure in the Empire, but it was up there. You could educate the masses and require them to use the correct answers on the adulthood tests or in court, but you couldn't force them to internalize those answers.As far as what to do in the interim, I was kind of regretting not bringing the dogs. Given that I'd have to cut it short whenever I got the notification I was third in line, it seemed rude to me to just show up unannounced with family and expect them to make time for me. Still, I sent messages to Luz and Esperanza and to Carmen and David. But Luz called almost immediately.Copyright 2023 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.

Excerpt from Moving The Pieces (Book 4 of Preparations For War)

It was hard to believe she was gone.For over an Earth century, Sephia had been the commander of Bolthole Base. She'd been the one constant, unchangeable thing about the mission on Calmena. The base was four times the size it had been when I started, Calmena itself was utterly changed, but Sephia was changeless - until this morning. She'd had a cerebral hemorrhage at some point overnight and died in her sleep. Her bright blue eyes were forever closed and I could have used a shot of her no-nonsense grandmotherly attitude. But her body had already been fed back into the converter as per standard Imperial procedure; she was one with the universe now.Section Private Kryphan was senior-most of those in the line of command; therefore he was interim commander. It was unlikely a successor for Sephia would be more than two days in coming - today's courier run would have taken the news to Earth, almost certainly the new base commander would arrive tomorrow. But whoever it was, they'd never replace the grandmother hen who'd watched over us for the last century, kept us focused on the task, held us together through all the setbacks, and kicked us into action when it was necessary.It had been pointless to Portal back to Bolthole Base, but every single one of the twentytwo teams currently working the Advancement Mission nonetheless made the journey, each of us making a solemn pilgrimage to the door of the base commander's office that had been hers for so long, just standing at the door looking in in silent farewell, bore executing tatzen, the Imperial gesture of respect, before turning and walking away silently. Tatzen was a variable gesture. Fingertips to chin was respect. Fingertips to upper lip was more. Nose to the joining of the ring and middle fingers was the limit of ordinary. Nose to wrist and palm to heart was all that and love and loss and you couldn't get any higher. Anything more than that was simple pretension, and none of us would do that to her. Sephia's absence was a burning hole in all of our hearts. She hadn't had to do anything beyond her job as commander of Bolthole Base, but she'd done everything she could to make our jobs easier as well. She would be missed.Both Asina and I had last messages from her in our datalink queue. Likely a last farewell and whatever last message she'd wanted us to be reminded of. We'd play them back in Yalskarr. Speaking of which, we'd be missed if we lingered more than a few minutes. Sephia was gone, and not coming back, but we still had our work to do. After a quick chat with Arrel and Dildre, we portaled back to the Calmenan city that had been our home for over sixty Imperial years now.Yalskarr was a different place, sixty Imperial years on. It had been a port town when we arrived; now it was one of the busiest ports on Calmena as well as an industrial center rivalling anything Earth had had in the mid-twentieth century. Nearly a million people lived in the city itself and another four in the territory it governed, which included the oilfields to the north as well as enough farmland to feed them all. It had its growing pains but Asina as First Captain had done her best to help the area remain livable as well as defensible from demonic incursions. She was retired from that now but still consulted from time to time; administering the industrial conglomerate that built ships, airplanes, and automobiles as well as the engines to power all of them took all of her time while I worked on advancing the technology as fast as I could, largely using the blueprints from Earth's Industrial Age. The time was coming when the lives of every human on Calmena would hinge on how fast we could upgrade.From the little copy of the Bleriot monoplane that had begun aviation here, Calmena's aircraft industry was ready to transition into the jet age, but that was far from an unmixed blessing. For most of the things that would be needed in repelling large bodies of demonic troops, propeller driven aircraft were more effective. Jets were expensive; the only real need for jet fighters was fighting other jet fighters and I couldn't see the demons fielding fighters that something of that era could fight. Either the demons would copy something like an Imperial Starbird in which case jets would simply be expensive targets, or they wouldn't bother at all, in which case Calmenan jet fighters would be wasting resources that could more profitably be used elsewhere. But it was difficult to explain this to people who'd never been allowed to see Imperial starships and thought jets were the pinnacle of development.Fortunately, most of the military organizations of Calmena understood who their real enemies were. Thousands of years of oppression and regular waves of demonic legions attempting to reconquer human nations made that abundantly clear. Over on Wilmarglr Continent where we'd started, Bazhen had imperial aspirations but fortunately the demons kept graphically explaining the folly of attacking fellow humans when there were demons trying to eat both them and their intended conquests.Asina and I each had half an hour of putting out those routine little metaphorical fires that seem to sprout like magic when the boss is away even momentarily. Hers had to do with the supply of metals - both iron and aluminum - that our shipyards and plane assembly required in thousand ton lots. Taman, her assistant, was a good accountant who couldn't be told we had access to more wealth than was apparent, and had tried to scale back or split an order of metal we needed immediately if not sooner. Mine had to do with a design issue on the proposed gunships. Makis understood why the main firepower had to sprout to one side, but Ghent, our liaison, was a former fighter pilot who wanted it all firing forward and tried to coerce a design change from him. I explained to Ghent for the seventeenth time that transports could keep one wing and therefore the guns aligned with it pointed at a target indefinitely, a feature that couldn't be replicated for any forward firing weapons. Ghent may have had experience using fighters to strafe demonic legions; I had access to records from an Earth he didn't know existed, and from the Empire as well, although Imperial tech was tens of thousands of years past anything Calmena could produce. We looted technology from pre-contact Earth because there was no living memory of Imperial equivalents and few designs for their production. The Swass-class transports that were the basic design were an almost exact copy of an Earth transport plane called a C-130 Hercules, and the gunships based upon them had been known as Spectres. I'd been told the new guns for them would be every bit as effective as the original Spectre.Once the metaphorical brushfires were out, we retired to Asina's office to play Sephia's message on our datalinks. The basic message was what we'd expected - how Calmena was important to the upcoming war, how we were going to make an outsize difference to the outcome, how she knew we'd make her proud. The basic message was one she'd repeated over and over again in our time on Calmena, but it brought tears to our eyes hearing it from her mouth one more time, and we loved her for it. Her straight pale blonde pageboy cut was slightly longer than the last time we'd seen her - it wasn't a recent recording. We checked the timestamp and it was almost ten years old. Asina had loved Sephia as a replacement for the mother she'd lost as a child. I wasn't an orphan, but she'd become a beloved aunt, equal in my affections with Tia Esperanza and Tia Luz and Tia Grace. I made a point of copying the message to archive; I wanted to be able to play this message again someday, a cherished memory of a dear friend.The message had an update - numbered twelve. Evidently one through eleven had been deleted. It was short and to the point. The Sephia in this message looked a little thinner, her hair a little shorter, and her face more determined. She spoke straight into the screen, bright blue eyes blazing defiance. "Joe, Asina, and the rest of you. They don't want me to tell you yet, but if you're seeing this, I'm beyond any discipline they might impose. Believe me when I tell you that right now your most important concern is ammunition for the weapons you have. Make what use of this information you can."The timestamp was three days old.Copyright 2021 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.

Excerpt from Setting The Board (Preparations for War Book 3)

We were pleasantly full when we took the Portal to Tabbraz, which was a good thing. Food on Hashiboor Continent wasn't a sure thing yet. We had a few bars of Life in our small packs in case it became an issue on the voyage to Yalskarr. Between the safe house in Tabbraz and our new station, we'd be the same as any other passengers on board whatever ship we chose. The blue sky seemed a little more purple than Earth, and the sunlight streamed a little more orange. It was about forty degrees Celsius, and saturation level humidity. The waterfront stank of excrement and various chemicals. All in all, mid-afternoon on a nice summer day in Tabbraz. Sailing vessels and steamers crowded the docks - it was part of our mission this time to advance the technology to marine diesels. We found a shipping agent to inquire about vessels heading to Yalskarr; the custom was two coppers to the clerks for leads. Ships for their part would register with all the agents because it brought them both cargo and passengers. Everybody came out ahead.Our first lead was a three-master that would have been recognizable to those who sailed the clipper ships of the 19th century on Earth. The tall masts would be full of sails under weigh, and the hull was designed to cut through the water, outspeeding any steamer. There was something about a sailing vessel catching the wind that spoke to the poet in all of us. This pseudo-clipper and its kind were doomed, but while they lasted they were among the most beautiful of any oceangoing vessels ever made. "Who do I speak to about passage?" Asina inquired of one of the sailors grooming its sides."The Captain," he pointed us to a weather beaten man in late middle age - probably early forties, Earth reckoning. This was a working vessel - the Captain was known to his crew. Beautiful uniforms were for passenger liners and the military. His garb was the adapted cotton we'd had engineered to pass for a native plant on Calmena, new and scarce enough that it was the sign of someone prosperous enough to afford it. Nonetheless, his clothes had seen as much hard use as his body. Officers on a working commercial vessel were not gentleman overseers."My husband and I would like passage to Yalskarr, Captain.""Passenger or working?" he asked."No objections to working passage," I replied, "I've several years at Windhome Bay as a builder, and my wife as well." I gestured to her clothes. The three small huts we'd built so long ago were now the greatest shipyards on the planet, and those willing to work were well paid for their exertions. The revolution we were going to unleash at Yalskarr would change shipbuilding, but Windhome Bay would still be one of the biggest builders on the planet."You're what - Five eights? Five eights and four?" The captain was expressing skepticism in the form of telling me we weren't old enough. The younger age was about sixteen Earth years."We're agaani. I'm sixty-four, eight, and three," Asina replied. The operants of Calmena weren't up the standards of Guardians, but they'd been making progress in learning how to handle not only aging, but the wear and tear of hard environments and brutal work. "But we can pay if you need passage money more than crew." She batted her blue eyes at the Captain. It wouldn't go anywhere, but it was still a useful negotiating trick. She turned heads on Earth, where anyone could look young and attractive."Three gold each for passage.""My husband said we worked at Windhome Bay, not that we owned the Yards. Two for the pair of us.""Two and four each.""You going to feed us like the Lords of Yarvahs, and give us a palatial cabin? We were looking for common passage. Two and four for the pair of us, and we eat with the crew.""Two each. You'll displace cargo I can charge for."Both of us laughed at that, "Not on any ship I've ever seen. You lash it down, and crew and common passengers find sleeping places around it. Two and four, and we eat with the crew.""Three for the pair. If you're agaani, you'll eat like four crew each."It was a fact that operants ate more than natural state humans - energy is never free. "With the slop you feed your crew, we'll get worms. Two and six, if your crew can vouch that the food isn't infested. You'll still profit like a water merchant at the Crossroads.""Agreed. Two and six. Welcome to the Shimarr. We sail at first light."It was a lot for what shouldn't be any more than a three day passage, but the fleet sailing vessels like Shimarr would be two days faster than the steamships. At this latitude, the prevailing winds blew out of the southeast. Shimarr should be sailing within a few (Earth) degrees of straight downwind to Yalskarr, and we wouldn't have to worry about food for the voyage. If what he fed the crew was too bad, we could eat Life if we had to. Asina checked in with Tellea, We have passage on a vessel named the Shimarr, out of Yalskarr. She's a fast sailer, should be there in three days. I checked in with Staff Private O'Hare, who Sephia had assigned as our contact, with the same message.Then, we waited. There wasn't much else we could do. We could have wandered around Tabbraz - as Guardians, we'd have been safe enough from the locals, but trouble might have caused us to miss our ship. At least we didn't have a need to go into the city to buy food for our voyage - we were eating with the crew. We found an area between crates in the hold, spread our sleeping mat, and curled up together, Asina a pleasant warmth on my left side as well as a welcoming presence in my mind.���Copyright 2019 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.