Richard Paolinelli's Blog, page 26
October 31, 2020
The Calling, Part 2: Chapter 19
A Work Of Star Trek Fan Fiction By Richard Paolinelli
© 2020 RICHARD PAOLINELLI . ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO COPYING OR ANY OTHER REPRODUCTION OF THIS STORY IS PERMITTED WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION. This is a work of fan fiction based in the universe of Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry. It is not intended to be sold, to be used to aid in any sale and is not to be copied or used in any other way by any other party.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Any sign of Mr. Butler, Spock?” Forelni asked as he, Spock and Kirk collected the remains of the warhead and the missile. They’d left McCoy and Whitme back in town packing up their gear for the return trip.
“Negative,” Spock reported. “The same small traces of human DNA found at the Guardian. If the missile struck him there should be more evidence of that. And, if he jumped back, he should have arrived with the missile and tumbled to the ground. I detected no sign of a human body when the missile arrived.”
“Spock,” Kirk cut in. “Is he dead or just missing? Could the Guardian have sent him somewhere before the missile passed through?”
“Unknown. Perhaps the Guardian, restored to full function, can locate him when we return.”
Forelni slipped the disabled warhead – Spock’s transmission has in fact deactivated it prior to Forelni’s shot after all – into a pouch and handed it to the Vulcan.
“That’s the last of it,” Forelni remarked, dusting off his hands. “McCoy and Whitme should be all packed up too.”
The three men looked at each other for a few moments.
“Shouldn’t the Guardian be pulling you back?” Forelni asked.
“Indeed,” Spock replied, puzzled. “We have accomplished our mission. There is no further need for us to remain here, unless…”
“Unless something is wrong,” Forelni finished, feeling suddenly uneasy. Then, as if struck by a lightning bolt, Forelni whirled and sprinted for his mount. He couldn’t explain it to the others, even if he’d stayed behind and tried, but suddenly he knew Avion was in danger. He nearly stumbled before boarding the beast when he heard her voice calling his name in his head.
BARI!!!!!!
Kirk and Spock, hampered by the bags of debris, took longer to get mounted. Forelni didn’t wait for them, spurring his mount back to the town and to Avion’s residence. He dashed by the two doctors, ignoring their inquiries as to what was going on and sprinted toward the main hall. How he knew she was there he could not say. But something was aiming him there.
He bolted into the hall, spotting Briseos crumpled to the ground, bleeding from a head wound and vainly trying to rise back to his feet. At the far end of the hall, Avion was cornered by three men. She had been putting up a good fight, but she was outnumbered. Before he could act, one of the men produced a wicked looking blade and plunged it into her chest.
Without thinking, or even bothering to arm himself, Forelni hurled himself at her assassins. He was on them before they could even register his arrival. The first turned, pulling the bloody knife from his victim, but Forelni felled him with a crushing blow to the temple. The second man thrust his blade at Forelni but it struck only air where the Captain had been.
Forelni grabbed the forearm, twisted it hard enough to dislocate the elbow and drove the knife, still clutched in his assailant’s hand, through the man’s jaw and directly into his brain. The third assassin, seeing his comrades fall to this demon, chose discretion over valor, dropped his blade and fled.
Forelni let him go, kneeling down to gather Avion up in his arms. He used the edge of his desert robe to staunch the flow of blood from her wound. He looked over at Briseos, who had recovered enough to stand back up.
“Get Doctor McCoy,” he commanded. “Now!”
Briseos hurried out, calling for McCoy as he left the hall.
“Bari…,” Avion said weakly. “I’m so cold…”
Keeping the pressure on her wound, he reached over and grabbed her cape and covered her with it, drawing her as close as he could to help keep her warm.
“Hold on, McCoy is on his way. You’re going to be fine.”
He almost believed it.
McCoy ran into the hall, took in the fallen bodies and quickly made his way over to the only one of them that he could aid. The other four men quickly followed, standing a few feet away to observe in silence as McCoy waved his medical scanner over the Queen. He looked at the results for a long time before he raised his eyes to meet Forelni’s. He didn’t need to say a word. Forelni swallowed hard and drop his head.
“I’m sorry, son,” McCoy stood up and rejoined the others.
“Bones?”
“There’s some kind of poison in her system, Jim,” he replied sadly. “If we were back…home… I might be able to do something. But here? No, Jim, there’s not a damned thing I can do.”
“The poison on the blade has no antidote, Doctor,” Briseos pointed out, the misery carrying clearly in his voice. “There was nothing any of us could do once the blade found its target.”
The old man stepped forward and kneeled next to his dying Queen. He pulled a small vial from his pouch, opened it and held it to her mouth.
“It will ease your passing, my lady,” Briseos explained as he poured the contents down her throat. Once emptied, he stood up and withdrew. He kept on walking past the other men and left the hall, tears unashamedly streaming down his face.
“It seems we are never given enough time, my love,” Avion weakly reached up to place her hand on his face.
“So it seems,” he agreed, he voice unsteady. “I will cherish every minute we were given.”
“Go back to your ship and the stars,” her voice grew steadily weaker. “I will be waiting for you out there…”
Her voice trailed off, her eyes slid closed and her hand slipped away. Forelni pulled her close.
“And I will find you,” he whispered. “No matter how far and how long I have to travel. I will find you again.”
* * * * *
Chandera custom, regarding the death of a monarch, was somewhat simple. The deceased was wrapped in a ceremonial robe and taken by the priests to a rocky area a few miles from the town. Here, the dead monarch would be laid to rest deep within the caves with all of his or her predecessors on the day of death.
Briseos had returned a few minutes after Avion had died in Forelni’s arms with the priests. They respectfully gathered her up and carried her away. They dressed the wound, cleaned the blood that had seeped past Forelni’s vain bid to stop the bleeding, and dressed her in a white robe. A gossamer veil was wrapped around her face.
She was placed on a litter and carried out to the funeral caverns. Forelni followed a few paces behind. Briseos, Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Whitme followed another three paces behind him and the residents of the town followed behind them. Chandera’s sun was just touching the horizon when they arrived.
“Only the priests can continue from this point,” Briseos explained as he stepped forward. “You must say goodbye now.”
Forelni, who hadn’t spoken a word since they’d taken her out of his arms, nodded and walked up to the litter. He was still wearing the blood-stained robe and her blood was still on his right hand. He leaned over and gently kissed her then stepped back. The priests continued on into the cave opening.
“There is something she would want you to have,” Briseos said, slipping a small leather pouch into a pocket of Forelni’s robe. “Open it later, my friend, when you have returned home and the pain in your heart has faded.”
The old man turned away and led the Chanderans back toward their homes, leaving the five Federation men alone. Only then did they feel the Guardian start pulling them back to their own time. Forelni didn’t fight it.
One instant they were on Chandera and the next they were stepping back though the portal, nearly five thousand years passing in an instant. Kirk looked over and wondered if the look on Forelni’s face had been the same on his when he’d stepped through, moments after he had lost Edith Keeler.
“ALL IS AS IT SHOULD BE!”
The Guardian’s voice boomed out, clearly back to full function again. Forelni turned and aimed a murderous look at the Guardian, as if he were contemplating using the phaser rifle to level the thing to the ground. That same feeling had flashed through Kirk back then too. Nothing was as it should be. Not then. Not now. He pulled out his communicator.
“Kirk to Enterprise. Status report.”
“Enterprise here, Sir.” Scotty replied. “Whatever ye did, it worked. Everything is back the way it was.”
Kirk started to reply but was cutoff but the sound of Forelni opening his own communicator.
“Forelni to…,” he paused, unable to say the name. “To the Star. Status of the Orion ships?”
“Captain?” Mansi sounded surprised. “Sir, we have life signs on the ships again but they appear to be very disoriented. Orders?”
“Clear my sky of those ships, Commander,” Forelni said very quietly.
No one in orbit or on the planet spoke, stunned into silence not only by the order but by the ice cold tone it had been delivered in.
“Sir?” Mansi finally broke the silence. Forelni closed his eyes, drew in a long breath, held it and slowly let it go.
“Belay that order,” he said a little louder.
“Aye, Sir,” the relief in Mansi’s voice was clear.
“Disable their weapons and engines,” Forelni continued. “Board those ships and place their crews under heavy restraint. Prepare to take them in tow. Contact Starbase 27 and have them send ships to rendezvous with us at best possible speed to take them off our hands. I want the lunatic in charge of that fleet in my brig by the time I beam up. Forelni out.”
He snapped his communicator shut as Mansi acknowledged the new orders. Kirk walked over and placed an understanding hand on his colleague’s shoulder.
“Where is it, Jim? Where does justice end and vengeance begin?”
“It’s a fine line, Bari, sometimes it can’t even be seen. Especially for Starship Captains. But the good ones can usually find it, especially if they have friends nearby to help.”
Forelni nodded.
“They nearly killed trillions, Jim. Maybe even trillions of trillions.”
“But they didn’t. We stopped them. We saved them all.”
“Tell that to Dan Butler.”
“We’ll find him, if he’s still alive,” Kirk promised. “And if not, the Orions will pay for what they did. The right way, within the letter of the law.”
“Captain Forelni,” Whitme stepped up, offering a data chip. “I recorded the location of her grave site. Now that we know where to look we can find it. We can have it ready for you to pay your respects if you want. You really didn’t get a lot of time to say a proper goodbye.”
Forelni took the chip and nodded his thanks.
“Doctor,” Kirk said. “Perhaps you would like to accompany the Captain? We’re not going to be able to break orbit here until our relief arrives. I can have your belongings transported over from the Enterprise.”
“I can be ready in a few minutes.”
“I’ll let my ship know you’re coming, Doctor.”
“It will get better, Bari,” Kirk said as Whitme headed off to pack up his belongings at the shelter. “There will be brighter days ahead.”
“How can that be, Jim, when the only light in the universe that matters is no longer shining?”
Kirk had no answer for that.
“Forelni to the Star,” Forelni reopened his communicator. “Dr. Whitme will be joining us. Have VIP quarters prepared. Stand by to beam him up and to receive his belongings from Enterprise.”
“Aye, Sir,” Mansi replied. “Are you ready to beam up, Sir?”
“Get me the hell out of here,” Forelni ordered.
Kirk heard the echo of his own past in that order. He’d said the same thing after his first visit here. He didn’t need to ask McCoy or Spock if he’d looked back then very much like Forelni did now as the Etalyan disappeared in a sparkle of transporter effect. Like a man whose heart had been ripped out of his chest and his soul forever ripped asunder.
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October 30, 2020
Free Read Friday: October 30, 2020
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Supernatural Streets, Edited by Rob Reed & Amie Gibbons
Every Friday I share with you a book that you really should be reading this weekend. This week’s book you really should read is: Supernatural Streets, an anthology of Urban Fantasy detective fiction edited by Rob Reed and Amie Gibbons.
Supernatural Streets brings together 14 Urban Fantasy authors to explore mysteries with a touch of Magic. The collection includes stories of psychic FBI agents, werewolf detectives, monster hunters, and an ordinary cop just trying to survive when the ritual daggers come out.
The anthology includes work by Dragon Award Finalist Declan Finn, Hugo Award nominated author Cedar Sanderson, best-selling authors Ryk E. Spoor and Julie Frost, and other fan-favorites and rising stars including: Brena Bock, Bokerah Brumley, Mickey Dubrow, Julie Frost, Amie Gibbons, A. C. Haskins, Paul Piatt, J. F. Posthumus, Rob Reed, Sam Robb, Ryk E. Spoor, and Dawn Witzke.
Get your copy now, its on sale for a short time only!
Amazon Link: https://amzn.to/3ix5Rtk
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October 26, 2020
Trust Unto God, and He Shall Direct Your Path
“Trust unto God, and He shall direct your path.”
This is the inscription written on a key that Mike Whittier (Dougray Scott) removes from a case left behind by Agent 47 (Timothy Olyphant) in the 2007 movie, Hitman. It is paraphrased from Proverbs 3; 5-6: “(5) Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; (6) in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”
That line from Hitman has stuck with me over the past year. After a tumultuous stretch in 2018 and 2019, when it seemed like all was chaos and nothing was under control, I made a critical decision last December. Instead of worrying over that which I could not control, I would “trust unto God” that the path ahead would reveal itself to me. In the meantime, I would focus on that which I could control.
It started with this blog post back in December (warning, you have to sign up for Premium membership to read it) where I cut loose some of the baggage that was holding me back from what I wanted to do. It was a huge first step for me, and since that post I haven’t given a thought to any of those mentioned within it.
This approach has seen me through a 2020 that, as it has been for most all of us, has been very chaotic. COVID has dominated the year and I managed to contract it shortly after it had made its way to the United States from China. I was sick for a few days and recovered. But, according to my doctor, that exposure triggered a Shingles outbreak a few weeks later that hit on my face, swelling the right eye shut and narrowly missing the optic nerve.
I recovered from that, although there is a long-term, lingering issue with the nerves that run near the eye socket. Given some others with much more severe post-COVID issues – and of course those who died after contracting it (I think the 220,000+ number is over-inflated as there are too many examples of people who tested positive having died in a car accident and their death being added to the official COVID deaths numbers) – I will not complain about my manageable post-illness ails.
But 2020 was not yet done throwing everything, including the kitchen sink, in our direction. Through it all, both my wife and I have kept that one thought at the forefront as we navigated each crisis that presented itself: Trust in God and he will direct your path.
So here we are, near the end of October, in a year that has seen us relocate from Nebraska to Colorado’s Western Slope. The path was sometimes unclear and often uncertain, but we put our trust in God and he has lead us here to this point. Today marks four weeks since we pulled out of Omaha and tomorrow will be the fourth week since we arrived at our new home. One month in and I think it is safe to say we are exactly where we need to be and we are better off here and now than we were even a month ago.
So, why am I sharing all of this with you? Because next week a lot of the tumult and chaos that our political class has fueled and fanned will (hopefully) come to a head. No matter how things turn out on Nov. 3rd, I suspect there will be agitators on the losing side that will not quietly accept their defeat and move on. Too much has happened in the last four years to expect a calm response. All we can hope for is that certain political leaders will realize the error of creating the monster they unleashed in the name of political victory and bring it to heel. Assuming it isn’t too late to do so.
But for each of us, perhaps the best thing we can do individually for ourselves and our families and friends is to do just one thing: Trust unto God and he will direct all of our paths.
It has worked for me and mine over the last year. It can work for you and yours too.
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October 25, 2020
Superversive Sunday Spotlight: Chrome Oxide
Welcome to this week’s Superversive Sunday Spotlight. Every week we will chat with a Superversive author that you really should be reading.
This week we welcome Superversive author, Chrome Oxide:
[image error]How long have you been writing?
November 2009 I started a blog where I posted random musings on life, the universe and everything. From there it was a short fall down the rabbit hole to writing science fiction and fantasy in June 2010.
Which writers inspire you?
I grew up reading Robert A. Heinlein, Andre Norton, Isaac Asimov and many others. However, I think the writer that most inspired me and has had the greatest impact on my writing is Robert Sheckley since everything I write is humorous, and many things I write are satirical.
[image error]So, what have you written?
My first professional sale was “Cop For A Day” as a published finalist in Writers of the Future volume 29. “Graduation Day” was published in Forbidden Thoughts. Both of those stories are in my collection of nine short stories, 28 Minutes Into The Future. The complete list of my publications can be found on my web site.
What draws you to Superversive writing?
The absurdity of the world around me. When I see the United States Supreme Court rule that if a building has a capacity of 500 people, and 250 are allowed to gather if it is a casino, but only 50 are allowed to gather if it is a church. Or when I see mayors and governors say it is unsafe to go outside without masks, unless you are rioting and looting in the memory of George Floyd. I am inspired to write about people who see the insanity and fight to make life better for themselves and those around them.
What are you working on at the minute?
I normally have more than one project going at a time. I’m currently working on a High Fantasy, a Low Fantasy and a No Fantasy. High Fantasy is a novel about a couple of stoners who end up on a world where if you use magic, you get high and then suffer withdrawals. Low Fantasy: I am working with editor Elaine Ash on Money Management For Monsters, a novel about a CPA who takes his first job at an accounting firm where things get weird, fast. No Fantasy: The Ship Who Pranked is a science fiction novel about a boy and his ship that travel among the worlds of the Collective, overthrowing planetary governments that oppress their people. While I’m working on these, I will stop and work on a short story if I come across an idea that screams out to me that I need to write it.
Do you read much and if so who are your favorite authors?
These are a few of my favorite authors, but there are many more science fiction and fantasy authors I enjoy reading. Larry Correia and his Monster Hunter novels. Carrie Vaughn and her Kitty Norville novels. David Drake and his Daniel Leary RCN novels.
How can readers discover more about you and your work?
The thing to know about me and my work is that I write humorous science fiction and fantasy. However, I’ve been accused of writing murder mysteries since I murder the English language and it’s a mystery how I get published.
I can be found at my own web site and my Amazon author page, but can be lost everywhere else.
My web site:
http://www.chromeoxide.com/writer/
My Amazon Author page:
https://www.amazon.com/Chrome-Oxide/e/B00DFJDA8M
Thanks for sharing Chrome. Be sure to check out Chrome’s books and be sure to check back next Sunday for our next chat with a Superversive author.
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October 24, 2020
The Calling, Part 2: Chapter 18
A Work Of Star Trek Fan Fiction By Richard Paolinelli
© 2020 RICHARD PAOLINELLI . ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO COPYING OR ANY OTHER REPRODUCTION OF THIS STORY IS PERMITTED WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION. This is a work of fan fiction based in the universe of Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry. It is not intended to be sold, to be used to aid in any sale and is not to be copied or used in any other way by any other party.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The five men stepped onto the desert sands on ancient Chandera, the planet’s star directly overhead. Forelni turned to look behind the party and saw nothing but endless sand.
“If we succeed here,” Kirk explained, discerning the reason why Forelni was looking behind them, “the Guardian will pull us back. Until then, there’s no portal back home for us to walk through.”
Forelni nodded and turned back to look ahead. The small town where Avion reigned as Queen lay just ahead. It was exactly as she had described it. While most of the planet was a desert world, there were oases of rock and enough farmable land to grow enough crops to feed a small population. Above ground cisterns captured what water fell during the rainy season, but the primary source of water came from underground caverns.
Most of the town was carved into the rocky outcroppings. The rest appeared to be large tents staked into the sands along the outskirts. A rough barrier had been constructed around the outskirts forcing any visitors toenter through a main gate. The Queen resided in a castle cut into the very top of the outcropping, towering over the town. He could see the sloping steps that led up to the entrance.
“Captains,” Spock called out, looking up from his tricorder. “Using the data from the Guardian, I calculate we have arrived four days, three hours and 41 minutes – local time – prior to the arrival of the Orion missile.”
“Not too bad considering the shape the Guardian was in,” Kirk replied. “At least we’ll have enough time to get set up.”
“Indeed,” Spock agreed. “The missile will strike less than a kilometer from the town ahead. If we can take position at the top of the outcropping we should have a clear field to send the signal to deactivate the warhead. It will also give Captain Forelni seven-point-four seconds to fire the phaser rifle at the warhead should that option be required.”
“Shall we proceed?” Forelni headed toward the town. The Guardian had dropped them within a thousand yards and no one appeared to have noticed their sudden arrival. Dressed in native attire they looked very much the part of travelers arriving at their destination as they arrived at the entry gate.
“What is your business here?” a burly-looking guard demanded, glowering at them as they approached.
“I am Crown Prince Bari Forelni, of Etalya,” Forelni replied. “We have travelled a great distance to seek audience with your Queen.”
“The Queen does not receive vagabonds,” the man replied dismissively. “I have never heard of this Etalya you claim to come from, desert rat.”
“Nor should she,” Forelni answered evenly, taking one deliberate step toward the guard who did have a couple of inches in height on Forelni. “But she will receive us just as soon as you inform her that I stand at this gate.”
“And why is that?”
In the blink of an eye the guard found himself flat on his back, disarmed and with Forelni’s booted foot planted firmly on his chest.
“Because if you don’t,” Forelni said calmly, giving no indication that he’d exerted himself at all in felling the guard, and nodding his head at a man standing nearby, “I will send that one over there to inform her Majesty that I am here and that she will need to assign a replacement to your post.”
The fallen guard gave it all of ten seconds of thought and made up his mind.
“You there,” he said to the bystander. “Send word to the Queen that Prince…”
“Bari Forelni of Etalya,” Forelni reminded him when he faltered.
“…has arrived and seeks audience,” the guard finished, adding, when the man remained rooted to the spot, “and be quick about it, man!”
The man turned and bolted down the main road toward Avion’s residence.
“You think you should let him up?” Kirk quietly asked from behind.
“I don’t know,” Forelni answered, looking down. “Is he going to behave himself if I do?”
The guard nodded in defeat. He might as well have been pinned to the ground by a mountain for all the good his attempts to get out from under Forelni’s planted foot had done for him. Forelni considered for a moment, then lifted his foot and stepped back.
“Thank you, m’lord,” the guard mumbled as he regained his feet. Forelni tossed him back the staff weapon and turned his back on the guard, looking off toward where the messenger had gone. It was as complete a dismissal of the guard as any kind of threat Kirk had ever seen.
“Someone’s as anxious as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” McCoy observed. “And as about as even-tempered as a lion with a toothache.”
“Why would anyone have a room full of rocking chairs…”
“Spock, Bones,” Kirk interrupted the old game. “Shut up.”
The messanger must have reached his destination for a sudden flurry of activity erupted near the Queen’s residence. Within a minute a group of five hooded and robed riders burst onto the street and headed straight for the gate. The creatures they rode resembled Earth’s ostriches, only the Chanderan version was bulkier and its plumage was bright red. When the group reached the gate, an older man nudged his mount ahead of the rest.
“I am Briseos,” he announced. “Her Majesty’s Chief Adviser. Who here claims to be Prince Forelni?”
“I do,” Forelni stepped forward, slipping the hood of his robe from off his head.
The old man looked back at the others as one dismounted, the hood hiding the face. Two slender hands reached up and slipped the hood back.
“Bari,” Avion said in shocked disbelief. “Is that truly you?”
“My lady,” he replied with a simple bow.
For a long second no one spoke or moved, all eyes on the reunited lovers. Then, with a squeal of delight, Avion rushed into Forelni’s arms.
“But how,” she asked when they finally broke the kiss. “Why?”
“That is a conversation to be had when there are fewer ears about to hear it,” Forelni replied.
* * * * *
“It’s so…fantastic,” Avion struggled to find the right word as they walked along a hall in the residence’s interior. Spock had filled her in on what had occurred in the future and why they’d undertaken the trip back to the past. “All of existence wiped out and it begins here on Chandera.”
“If we don’t stop that missile then all that will remain is a huge black void, one dead world and the crews of two starships,” Forelni replied. “Fantastic is a good word for it. Terrifying is another.”
“This device, this Guardian, can be used to travel anywhere and anywhen?”
“Yes, but we are only supposed to use it to view events in the past, we are not allowed to step through lest we change the past is some terrible way.”
“Is that why you never came here after I left the Enterprise?”
“No,” Forelni said, taking her hands in his. “I never used it to come back to the instant you returned to Chandera, because I didn’t know of the Guardian’s existence until less than a day ago.”
“And now that you know?” she asked, suddenly very serious. “Will you come and go? Can I return to your time perhaps?”
“No,” he replied. “As far as I know, when we have completed our mission, only those who came here from the future can return. We cannot take someone from the past back with us, lest we trigger some other cataclysm by changing the past.”
“So you will leave and I will never see you again?” her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“You will see me every day,” he promised. “When the others return, I will remain behind.”
“But you are a Captain now, you sail the stars in your own ship…”
“You never asked me what the name of my ship is. They let me name her.”
“What name did you give your ship?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Avion’s Star,” he answered and then the tears could not be held back any longer.
“You would give all of that up for me?”
“We Forelni’s have always followed the calling of our heart,” he said, smiling. “You are the calling of my heart, Avion of Chandera. Wherever you are, that is the only place in the universe I want to be.”
* * * * *
“Are you sure about this, Bari?” Kirk asked days later.
They had taken up station at the highest point of the outcropping. Spock had estimated the missile’s arrival in this time was less than an hour away. They were as ready for it as they could be and now all they could do was await it and stop it. Avion had just been called away on a matter of state.
“I am, Jim. I lost her once. I can’t lose her again. When we are done here and the Guardian opens the way back, I’m not coming with you.”
“There’s less than five years remaining before Chandera’s star burns out,” Kirk replied.
“I know. But I’ll happily trade every year I would have had left in our present for every day we’ll have together here, Jim.”
Try as he might Kirk couldn’t find the words to try to talk him out of it.
“Then in that case,” Kirk said instead, “we’d better say goodbye now, in case we don’t have time later.”
“It’s been an honor, Jim,” Forelni extended his hand.
“The honor is still mine, Bari,” Kirk shook the proffered hand and clapped Forelni on the shoulder. “I wish you both all the happiness you can find.”
“Thank you, Jim.”
“Son,” McCoy said, having overheard the conversation. “Normally I’d say you need to have your head examined. But I’ve seen the lady and you’d have to have your head examined if you didn’t stay. Good luck to you both.”
“Thank you, Leonard, for both of us.”
“Captains,” Spock looked up from his equipment. “I am detecting a temporal anomaly.”
“Where, Spock?” Kirk asked as Forelni brought the phaser rifle up and checked the settings.
“Six kilometers high and at your one o’clock, Captain Forelni.”
Kirk looked up as Forelni sighted on the spot.
“At the speed that thing will be going, Commander,” Forelni asked. “About a fifty-meter lead on the shot?”
“Aim fifty-point-two meters ahead of the target, Captain.”
“Yeah, piece of cake,” Forelni muttered as the missile suddenly appeared out of the distortion.
“Sending disarming sequence now,” Spock reported.
“Any indication signal received, Spock?”
“Unknown, Captain,” Spock replied. “Captain Forelni…”
“Got it,” Forelni tracked the missile in his sights, keeping his aiming point ahead of the streaking object.
“Fifteen seconds to impact,” Spock called out.
“Bari…” Kirk urged.
Forelni squeezed the triggered without slowing the movement of the rifle. The shot erupted from the rifle and struck the missile, severing it half and sending the remains tumbling along the original track.
“Five seconds to impact,” Spock intoned. They’d either succeeded or they had a few seconds of life remaining.
The debris hammered into the desert sand a mere two hundred meters away. A huge cloud of dust, sand and debris billowed up into the sky and began to fall down on the town. A long silence fell.
“Did we die?” McCoy asked after the silence had stretch into a long minute.
“No, Doctor, we did not,” Spock replied. “The warhead did not detonate.”
“Congratulations Captain, Commander,” Kirk said with a broad smile. “You just saved the universe.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Spock replied.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Jim,” Forelni said as he powered down the rifle. “But let’s go collect that warhead so you folks can go on back home.”
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October 23, 2020
Free Read Friday: October 23, 2020
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War Demons by Russell Newquist
Every Friday I share with you a book that you really should be reading this weekend. This week’s book you really should read is Russell Newquist’s: War Demons:
I read this book before it was released and loved every action-packed word of it. So will you!
Here’s the links to follow to get your copy right now:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2L1gBR7
Publisher: https://silverempire.org/product/war-demons/ref/274
Series link: https://amzn.to/35UJxXD
And check out Dragon Award nominee Declan Finn’s review right here: http://www.declanfinn.com/2018/12/war-demons.html
I read this in one sitting. It was that fantastic!
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October 18, 2020
Superversive Sunday Spotlight: J. Trevor Robinson
Welcome to this week’s Superversive Sunday Spotlight. Every week we will chat with a Superversive author that you really should be reading.
This week we welcome Superversive author, Xxxxx Xxxxxxxxx:
How long have you been writing?
I wrote a lot of silly little-kid stories when I was 8 or 10 years old; I remember one about a tiger who had weird-coloured fur and wore a blanket all the time to hide it. My real interest in writing sparked when I was in my early teens, and my brother gave me a big stack of hand-me-down Stephen King books which I was probably still a bit too young for. The Dark Half was the first book that ever scared me so much I had to put it down and try reading it again later, and the idea that words on a page could have that effect on people intrigued me. I tried writing little shorts and concocting narratives in my head all through high school, but they always fizzled out because I could never find anything important I wanted to say to give them any point. It wasn’t until I was about 28 that I started putting together actual stories with real plots.
[image error] Which writers inspire you?
Stephen King is a big reason why I started properly writing in the first place, which is why so many of my stories have at least some horror element. Jim Butcher is another one, I really love how he blends mystery and action together to keep the reader hooked until they’ve kept going an hour past they meant to put it down. The other major influence is Ayn Rand, her characters are so larger-than-life that they’re almost more a pantheon than a cast, and it works to make you root for the heroes and hate the villains much more intensely than if they were ordinary people.
So, what have you written? [image error]My latest project is The Mummy of Monte Cristo, coming out October 20 2020 from Immortal Works. It’s a retelling of Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo, with horror elements and superversive values woven into the classic tale of adventure and righteous vengeance. My other novel was self-published, a YA horror story called The Good Fight about two Toronto teens battling an insidious hive-mind seeking to replace mankind.
Aside from that, I’ve put out a few short stories. Two of them were with Superversive Press: Free Falling in the MAGA 2020 and Beyond collection imagining a man escaping from a totalitarian Canada into the Lan of Opportunity, and Let the Chips Fall Where They May in To Be Men about a casino security manager and single dad stopping a heist while protecting his son. There’s Exclusive Scoop in Silver Empire’s Stairs in the Woods collection, the only romance story in the book, about two reporters and ex-lovers who find themselves working the same case; those characters are actually due to return in another collection called Cracked: A Chicken Anthology which should be out by the time this is published.
What draws you to Superversive writing?
It’s so easy to look at the world and find things to complain about, and plenty of people are willing to do that and write stories about that. You’ve even got some inventing new complaints and writing stories about those, which boggles my mind. As Tom Woods likes to point out, we live in the most prosperous time yet in human history, and even most poor people have access to luxuries that medieval kings could never have dreamed of.
So with that in mind, my mission is to write stories that highlight the incredible advantages that surround us and feature upstanding characters that embrace and make use of them. In The Mummy of Monte Cristo and The Good Fight, the roles of the “wise old mentor” character (more than one, in Mummy’s case) are filled by entrepreneurs. My recurring reporter characters Vivian and Mason are reporters who are actually dedicated to uncovering the truth rather than chasing one agenda or another. And of course, my villains embody the sort of corruption that’s at work in the world to ruin what’s good and distract people from what’s right.
It was Ayn Rand, specifically The Fountainhead, that first got me interested in writing that way. A big transit strike hit my hometown – gosh, nearly ten years ago now – and I’d been online voicing opposition to the picketers’ claims that they were “standing up to the little guy” when it was the little guys who depended on transit who weren’t able to get to work or school. Someone who supported the strike called me an “Ayn Rand-lover,” meaning it as an insult, but under the circumstances I took it as an endorsement of her work. I picked up The Fountainhead for the first time, and never looked back.
What are you working on at the minute?
I heard some advice recently that you should always have two projects going, so that you can always procrastinate on one by working on the other one. I’m working on another short story, part of a collaboration with Hans Schantz (author of The Hidden Truth series) and some other authors. The other big writing project is a sequel to The Mummy of Monte Cristo, still in the outlining stages but coming along nicely.
Of course, my major project these days is being a dad! My first child, a little girl, was born last fall and she’s been just a joyful little challenge ever since. She doesn’t leave me a lot of time for writing, but today she blew a raspberry against my leg and laughed so hard she broke wind, so I’d say it’s worth it.
Do you read much and if so who are your favorite authors.
I’ve been making an effort to read more work from other Superversive authors like Hans Schantz, Jon del Arroz, and Brian Niemeier. At the same time, I’m also still interested in reading some classic books I managed to miss, like the Space Trilogy by CS Lewis that I recently started. In between all that, I’ve been reading some Christian history and theology as well like How the Catholic Church Built the Modern World by Tom Woods and The Ten Commandments by Thomas Watson.
How can readers discover more about you and your work?
I don’t update my blog often, but it does have purchase links to everything that’s currently in print. Two of my short stories are available there for free, and there’s also a link to my mailing list where subscribers get the first three chapters of The Mummy of Monte Cristo.
Aside from there, you can find me on the usual social media channels, and technically I’m on Gab and Parler as well, though I often forget to update them.
Blog: https://www.themummyofmontecristo.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JTrevorRobinson/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mummyofmontecristo/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JTrevorRobinson
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15298138.J_Trevor_Robinson
Gab: https://gab.com/JTrevorRobinson
Parler: https://parler.com/profile/JTrevorRobinson/
Thanks for sharing J. Trevor. Be sure to check out J. Trevor’s books and be sure to check back next Sunday for our next chat with a Superversive author.
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October 17, 2020
The Calling: Part 2, Chapter 17
A Work Of Star Trek Fan Fiction By Richard Paolinelli
© 2020 RICHARD PAOLINELLI . ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO COPYING OR ANY OTHER REPRODUCTION OF THIS STORY IS PERMITTED WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION. This is a work of fan fiction based in the universe of Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry. It is not intended to be sold, to be used to aid in any sale and is not to be copied or used in any other way by any other party.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“The Guardian of Forever?” Forelni asked incredulously.
“It seemed a likely name,” Kirk replied as they made their way through the ruins. They had beamed down, along with Spock and McCoy, to the habitat set up to house the scientific teams researching the site but had found no one there.
“And you can actually use it to travel to any place and time? I can see why Starfleet keeps it under tight wraps and why you didn’t want to say anything until I beamed down.”
“Even the scientists that are allowed down here to study it are thoroughly vetted and sworn to secrecy,” Kirk explained as they rounded the last barrier.
“So how did the Orions find out about it?” Forelni asked.
“Assuming they did in fact know what was here, Captain,” Spock interjected. “They might have simply assumed something of import was here and decided to destroy it. While the trajectory of the Orion missile had been the exact location of the Guardian itself, they may have simply fired at the strongest energy source on the planet.”
“That doesn’t make much sense, Spock,” McCoy chimed in. “Destroying something without actually knowing what that thing actually is.”
“Orions are not known as logical beings, Doctor.”
All four men pulled up sharply as the Guardian came into view. The portal appeared to be frozen, locked on a view of a desert world. Those visible on that world were also frozen in place, as if someone had paused a recording. Scattered around the Guardian lay five members of the science team, including Dr. Whitme, who was struggling to regain his feet. The others were moving, but just barely.
“Dr. Whitme,” Forelni called out, rushing over to the fallen man and helping him to his feet. McCoy quickly scanned him and the others.
“Concussions,” McCoy reported as he pulled out a hypospray and injected each man. “Lots of bumps and assorted bruises but nothing serious.”
“What happened?” Whitme asked, rubbing the back of his head.
“We were hoping you could tell us, Doctor,” Kirk replied.
“We were reviewing the last years of Chandera…,” Whitme began.
“That’s Chandera?” Forelni interrupted, taking a long look and the frozen image. “Before or after Avion came aboard Enterprise?”
“We were recording to find out how long the planet had left,” Whitme replied. “But I’m not sure. Certainly within the last five years and after she came to the future, Captain.”
“She just over there,” Forelni said in a heart-breakingly soft tone. “Just on the other side…”
“That’s what Mr. Butler said,” Whitme replied. “We saw a quick image of her flash by and he wondered if we could step through and bring her back. I’m not sure if the Guardian would allow us to do that. But before I could say anything we heard this screaming whistle. We turned around and something flashed into the portal. Mr. Butler was standing right in front of it. I doubt he even had time to try to move out of the way. Then this massive shock wave blasted out of the Guardian and the next thing I remember is see you coming to help me.”
“I am detecting traces of human DNA at the event horizon, Captain,” Spock reported as he aimed his tricorder at the Guardian. “Just a few molecules. Not even enough to confirm identity.”
“But given he was standing there at the time, who else could it be. He was slammed into by a high-speed missile, I doubt he even knew what hit him,” Kirk remarked.
“He was a good officer,” Forelni said. “He had a lot of potential. What a damned shame.”
“I agree,” Kirk replied. “But right now we have a more pressing concern. We need to figure out why we are suddenly all that remains of the universe and how to put it back the way it was.”
“Excuse me?” Whitme asked in confusion.
“Whatever went through the Guardian has changed everything, Doctor,” Forelni replied. “As near as we can tell, those of us on the surface and aboard our two ships in orbit comprise the sum total of existence. Anywhere.”
Whitme paled and Forelni steadied the man so he wouldn’t fall back to the ground.
“First things first,” Kirk commanded. “Spock, is the Guardian functioning?”
“I..AM…FUNCTIONAL…” the Guardian spoke for the first time. To Kirk’s ear it sounded much weaker than the last time he’d spoken with it.
“Are you damaged?” Kirk stepped toward the device.
“REPAIR PROTOCOLS INITIATED…MINIMAL FUNCTIONALITY RESTORED…”
“Guardian,” Kirk pressed. “Can you tell us what has happened?”
“NOTHING IS…AS IT SHOULD BE…”
“There’s a newsflash,” McCoy cracked.
“Hush, Bones. Guardian, did the object that…penetrated…your portal cause everything to vanish?”
“YES.”
“Captain,” Spock broke in. “The Orion missile obviously carried a warhead designed to inflict massive damage to the target. Even though it struck Chandera in the past, we know that the missile remained anchored to the present by the still open portal.”
“So when the missile detonated the energy was released throughout all time and space?”
“Indeed. I theorize that the effect of the Guardian likely increased the energy exponentially, literally destroying everything over the last five millennia.”
“Then why are we still here, Commander?” Forelni asked.
“The massive waves that erupted from the Guardian shielded us, anchoring us to the planet much the same way as before.”
“And the Orions? They were caught up in that too. Why did they disappear?”
“BECAUSE … I… MADE IT… SO,” the Guardian answered.
“That’s not the least bit unsettling,” McCoy replied.
“We’ll leave that for later,” Kirk said. “Our first order of business is fixing this. Guardian, can you reverse what has happened?”
“THAT IS BEYOND MY ABILITIES… EVEN AT FULL CAPACITY.”
“Okay,” Kirk blew air out as he thought. “We can’t slingshot because there’s no nearby star to use. So that option is out.”
“Slingshot?” Forelni asked.
“Something we had to do not too long ago,” Kirk replied. “It was classified…”
“Like the Guardian? When we’re done here, we are going to have a long talk about some of these classified items that I really should know about, Jim.”
“Another time, Bari,” Kirk replied. “So what can we do?”
“If we stop the detonation we stop this from happening,” Forelni said. “If we can’t do that here and now, can we do it on Chandera in the past?”
“Spock?” Kirk tossed the ball into the Vulcan’s court.
“Possibly. We would have a 15-second window in which to hit the warhead with a strong enough pulse to render it inactive when it makes contact with Chandera. Should that fail, we would have a few seconds to sever the warhead with a directed beam from a phaser rifle at a specific point to accomplish the same result.”
“Hit a high-speed missile with a phaser,” McCoy scoffed. “What are the odds of that working?”
“Well,” Forelni jumped in, “as loathe as I am to brag, I am a pretty fair shot with a phaser rifle. I’d be willing to give it a try.”
“You really think you can pull that off?”
“Given the alternative, Doctor, I’d rather die trying than die under a perpetually pitch black sky.”
“Okay, we have a plan,” Kirk cut in. “Just one problem. How do we get there? Guardian, can you get us to Chandera before the missile strikes?”
“YES…BUT MY TARGETING SYSTEM IS NOT FULLY FUNCTIONAL. YOU MAY ARRIVE MANY DAYS EARLY.”
“Better early than late,” Kirk replied.
“BE WARNED. I HAVE THE POWER TO GET YOU THERE. BUT IF YOU FAIL TO PREVENT THE DETONATION, I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO BRING YOU BACK.”
“Potentially a one-way trip,” Kirk said aloud.
“And no other choice but to take it,” Forelni replied. “We should brief our ships, in case we don’t make it back. Some will want to make a go of it here on the surface. Others will want to strike out and see if there is anything else out there.”
“That could be a very long trip, Captain.”
“We Etalyans are long-lived people, Doctor. We can handle making the Star a colony ship for an extended voyage.”
The two Captains stepped away to call their respective ships. Forelni filled his First Officer in on what had occurred, what their plan of action was and what they should do if they failed to return.”
“There’s one more thing, Paulo,” Forelni added after making sure Mansi was alone. “Even if we succeed, I may not come back.”
“You’re going to stay there with her, even though there will be less than a handful of years remaining to you?”
“Two years with her? I would trade all three centuries of my lifespan for those two years, Paulo.”
“I wish I could have met her in person, Bari.”
“So do I my friend. You’ll explain what happened to the King and Queen if we succeed and I don’t return? Tell them… tell them I was happy.”
“I will, my friend. And I will miss you.”
“And I you, my brother. Take good care of my ship.”
“I will. Goodbye, brother.”
“Forelni out,” he snapped the communicator lid shut and returned to the portal just as Kirk was returning from his discussion with Scotty.
“Spock?” Kirk asked.
“The ship will be beaming down the requested materials and clothing for five momentarily.”
“Five?” Kirk asked.
“I can’t pass up this chance to see Chandera as it was, Captain,” Whitme explained. “And I’d rather go there than be stuck here.”
“Very well, Doctor, five it is.”
The materials sparkled into existence and the five men quickly changed into native Chandera clothing. Forelni collected the phaser rifle and slung it over his shoulder while Spock gathered up a duffel bag containing the electronic gear they’d need to deactivate the warhead.
“Guardian, we are ready when you are,” Kirk said as they stepped up to the portal.
“STAND BY.”
The portal winked out, even the lights in the stone arch winked out. A long thirty seconds later the lights winked back on and the portal resolved itself to a view of the capital city of Chandera as it had been five thousand years ago.
“Ready, Captain?” Kirk asked.
“She’s there, Jim. Let’s get going,” Bari replied as he stepped through the portal. The other four quickly followed. The portal winked out and the lights dimmed before finally blinking out.
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