More draft work...

The Nowrimo’s Revenge sped through the vacuum of space, unhindered in its approach to the Shalothan system. Three massive vessels of Shalothan design flanked the smaller frigate in a rough triangle pattern, creating a protective ring around the smaller vessel. Neither time nor space filtered into the mind of Reaz Apxlus as he prayed in the makeshift reflection chamber aboard the Revenge.

When the Revenge had touched down on the surface of Jethl’s moon, Apxlus had expected Naoh and Anacen, the warriors who had accompanied their Lord on the surface, to be jubilant about their extended time with Him. Surprisingly, Apxlus noticed that both warriors boarded the ship quietly, and quickly separated themselves from the others by withdrawing deeper into the ship while their comrades greeted their guests.

It had been several hours since their departure from the Fe-Ruq system and the orbit around Jethl, and neither of the warriors that had accompanied their Lord on the surface had spoken to any of the other warriors. Apxlus at first dismissed it as the warriors being overwhelmed to be in the presence of their Lord. But as the time passed, and their guests locked themselves within the cargo hold, Apxlus started to suspect that something was amiss. He had retreated to his reflection chamber to pray for guidance, when, much to his chagrin, he realized he was praying to the heavenly father of the holy man that now accompanied them on their flight back to Shalotha.

Stopping in mid-prayer, Apxlus stood up and quietly stepped out of the room into the cramped corridor beyond. He started towards the ladder to the cockpit, then thought better of it and turned towards the corridor that led to the cargo hold.

“Apxlus,” a voice whispered from above. Apxlus turned towards the voice, twisting to look back at the ladder to the cockpit. The legs of a warrior were already visible as a warrior descended the ladder. Apxlus waited until the warrior became fully visible before approaching him. Stepping lightly onto the deck floor, Naoh turned and faced his commander.

“I need to speak with you commander,” he whispered. “In private,” he added, nodding upwards towards the other warriors that were in the cockpit. Apxlus motioned back towards the reflection chamber and followed the warrior into the room. Looking back to see if any other warriors were around, Apxlus stepped inside and hit the button to close the door behind him.

“What is troubling you, my brother,” Apxlus asked, settling into one of the seats that had been moved against the wall. Noah squatted down and leaned forward on his haunches, clasping his claws before him.

“Commander, have you spoken with our Lord since he was brought back from the surface?”

Apxlus indicated that he hadn’t, and waited for the warrior to continue.

“I have found it very difficult to speak with our Lord,” Naoh said. He bowed his head as if ashamed to admit it. “He does not seem inclined to speak with us.”

“Perhaps you forget that we are merely his loyal servants. He shall speak with us when he deems it necessary.”

Naoh raised his head and looked at Apxlus. “My brother, that is what bothers me. He spoke to Anacen and I only when we were needed to act as escorts. He sat in silence the entire time we were there, up until he sent us away and–”

“Our Lord sent you away?” Apxlus interrupted, clearly surprised by the warrior’s admission.

“Yes, commander. He ordered us to remove ourselves from His presence, and directed us towards the approaching USN officers. He ordered us to allow ourselves to be seen so that we could ‘bring the humans into His glory’. That was the only interaction we had with him until he directed us to escort the USN officer to our ship.”

“Did He speak with the officer?”

Naoh paused for a moment, and thoughtfully rubbed the keratin ridge on the back of his hand. “He did, but we do not know how long he conversed with him, nor what was said before we returned. Once we saw the officers approaching, we allowed ourselves to be seen, and then retreated back to Him to report. He ordered us away from Him again, this time in a different direction. He said that He would call us back when He needed us. We heard a weapon discharge shortly thereafter, and began to make our way back towards Him. By the time we arrived, the male officer was standing before Him, and it appeared that our Lord was laying hands on him and giving a blessing. But as we got closer, we both could hear what He was saying.”

Apxlus waited expectantly for Naoh, who visibly struggled with what he was about to say.

“He ordered the officer to ‘go forth and wage war’ on His behalf. The officer fell to the ground, and our Lord commanded him to do His bidding.” Naoh stopped and adjusted his position, dropping to one knee and balancing himself with a claw on the floor. Apxlus watched silently, not sure that he believed what Naoh was saying.

“Perhaps you misheard our Lord,” Apxlus suggested. Naoh shook his head.

“Commander, if you seek out Anacen at this very moment, and ask him what our Lord said, a thousand times over he will repeat to you what I have just said. Our Lord was very clear in His statement.”

Apxlus thought about this for a moment, waiting for Naoh to add anything to his statement. The warrior bowed his head and stared at the floor, waiting for his commander to speak.

“Sinners,” Apxlus stated. Naoh looked up, slightly confused. “That must be whom He was speaking of. Sinners. He wants us to wage war on sinners, Naoh.”

“There is more, Apxlus. Once we returned, He prayed in a foreign tongue over the body of the officer, and commanded him to wake. The officer woke up, and our Lord commanded him to rise by referring to him as ‘Asreh, Archlord of His Legion’. He commanded us silently to bow before this human.”

“Explain, Naoh,” Apxlus said tersely.

“Both Anacen and I heard His voice in our minds commanding us to kneel before Asreh, but He never actually spoke the words.”

“He was speaking to your souls, then,” Apxlus reasoned.

“Commander, why would He have us bow to a human? Are we to be treated as an inferior species in the eyes of God?”

“Do not question the motives of our Lord, Naoh. Your faith is failing you. He will do what is right for His kingdom. Which is more important – that we are able to serve Him, or how we serve Him? If He chooses for us to perform the roles of soldiers in His glorious army, then we shall do so with grace in our hearts and prayers on our tongues. If He decides that this human warrants reverence, than we shall obey and bow at the feet of whomever He tells us to.”

“What if this is a deception by the Fe-Ruq military, Apxlus? What if this being is not really our Lord? Isn’t it conceivable that they would go to great lengths to deceive us in order to gain an advantage in an attack on Shalotha?” Naoh abruptly stood and was matched in action by Apxlus.

“I have given our situation much thought. Yes, the possibility that His return is a ruse orchestrated by the Fe-Ruqians has presented itself to me. However, I believe our Lord has a reason for everything He does, and we have no right to doubt Him. Where He chooses to appear, whom He orders to serve – none of that is subject to our scrutiny. We are merely His humble servants, and should act as such. Do not forget that this is our long awaited Christ, Naoh. He has returned to our galaxy to bring His glory to us. We need merely to follow and obey, and He will guide us.”

Noah bowed his head again, and stared at the floor. Apxlus reached over and clasped the warrior’s shoulder, pulling him closer. Apxlus began to speak so low that Naoh could barely hear his commander.

“Do not lose your faith, brother. He shall guide us, even if we do not understand. Go and pray, for our return trip shall be over soon.” Naoh nodded, turned, and walked out of the room.

Apxlus stood staring at the door for a moment, waiting to see if the troubled warrior returned. After a few minutes, Apxlus stepped into the corridor and walked towards the cargo hold entrance. Something about the way their Lord had spoken to him when he first laid eyes upon Him in the cell on Je-Fin had bothered Apxlus. It had been an undefined thought, something he couldn’t quite understand. He remembered their meeting quite clearly, and he recalled how his Lord’s response to what Apxlus now realized was a vengeful statement had taken him by surprise. Apxlus’ inference that the Fe-Ruqians would be repaid with revenge for imprisoning their Lord had not been met with an admonishment and pleas for forgiveness as one might expect, but rather with encouragement in agreement of his statement. The brief interaction had been replayed several times in his mind over the past few days, and each time the words spoken by his Lord didn’t match the forgiving spirit that Apxlus had expected Him to be. Perhaps Shalothans didn’t truly understand their God as much as they thought they did.

Apxlus stopped in front of the cargo hold door, debating with himself on whether he should enter. He wasn’t sure if his Lord was resting, or in private conversation with the USN officer. Reluctantly he reached towards the control pad and pressed the button that opened the door.

*****

Marshall sat with his Lord silently, taking in everything He was saying. It wasn’t difficult to pay attention, unlike when he had been in religious studies in his youth. For some reason, he felt compelled to listen to this man. Everything the man seemed to say made perfect sense to Marshall. Or rather, it made perfect sense to Asreh. Marshall chastised himself silently. I’ve got to remember who I am now. My name isn’t Marshall anymore. Asreh. Asreh. Dammit.

The time since the Shalothans had rescued them off the moon of the Jethl had gone by quickly. Upon boarding the Nowrimo’s Revenge, Marshall was introduced to a large Shalothan named Apxlus. He was escorted to the cargo hold, and allowed some privacy with his Lord for a short time. It hadn’t been an hour before his Lord laid hands upon Marshall again, saying a prayer over him.

“Asreh,” his master called out. Marshall bowed his head.

“Yes, my Lord,” he answered in a low voice.

“The captain of this vessel goes by the name of Apxlus. He is not a being to be trusted. Within the hour he will approach us with intentions to speak. Do not let him approach me, for he carries in his heart the spirit of my greatest nemesis.” He looked down at Marshall without emotion while speaking, and turned away when he was finished. He closed his eyes and laid down on the floor of the cargo hold.

Marshall didn’t necessarily doubt his master, but he couldn’t be sure that Apxlus would visit them within the hour. He had waited forty minutes, and was just about to fall asleep himself when the cargo hold door opened. One of the Shalothan warriors stood in the doorway, but at first glance Marshall couldn’t tell which one.

Bowing his head slightly, the Shalothan stepped into the hold and began to approach. Marshall jumped up quickly, moving to intercept the warrior.

“I wish to speak to our Lord,” Apxlus stated, looking beyond Marshall to the still body on the floor behind him.

“Our Lord wishes not to be disturbed, Apxlus,” Marshall answered back sternly, putting emphasis on the warrior’s name. Apxlus took a step back, looking down at Marshall. Several inches separated the two in height. I have no fear of this Shalothan. The Lord is truly with me, he thought as he faced Apxlus. Marshall’s heart leapt at the unexpected absence of fear.

“Commander Tennison, please step aside and let me speak with our Lord. It is an urgent matter in regard to our arrival on Shalotha.”

“There is no Commander Tennison here. I am Asreh, Archlord of His Legion, as so appointed by Him on Jethl. I speak for our Lord while He rests. He wishes not to be disturbed.” The words flowed out of Marshall’s mouth, even before he could form them in his mind. Is He speaking through me, Marshall wondered.

Movement caught Apxlus’ eye, and he glanced down at Marshall’s hand. In it he held his rifle, loosely gripped, but armed nonetheless.

“Please inform our Lord that I need to relay information to Him at His convenience,” Apxlus countered, moving his gaze back to Marshall’s face.

“You can give the information to me.”

Apxlus clicked in his throat, but said nothing. He stared at Marshall for a handful of heartbeats, then looked past him to the man laying on the floor.

“Forgive me, Asreh, but the conversation is of a private nature. I will return later.” He turned to leave. Marshall called after him.

“I thought it was something about our return to Shalotha. Now it’s private?” Marshall could sense the change in his own speech pattern, almost as if his master had chosen not to speak through him anymore.

Apxlus stopped, but did not look back.

“It is both. They are one in the same. I will return later to speak with our Lord privately.” He paused for a moment, and then continued walking out of the cargo hold. Marshall stared after him, not quite sure what to do now.

“Very good Asreh,” a voice from behind him said. Marshall turned and saw that his master was speaking to him with his eyes still closed. Marshall bowed his head.

“My Lord, did you hear his request?”

“Of course I did. I hear all Asreh.” He smiled slightly, but kept his eyes closed. “Do not let him or any other warriors meet with me privately. All of them have tainted souls, and I am not yet strong enough in this life to sway them. I must trust in you to protect me from my enemies until I have gained all of my strength back.”

“You can rely on me, master,” Marshall heard himself say, and realized he didn’t recognize the words as his own. Each time his master spoke through him, he found himself surprised or in awe. He wasn’t quite sure if he was comfortable with it yet, but he resigned himself to the assumption that it must be how his Lord chose to communicate.

“Very good Asreh. Come, let me tell you of our path to be taken.”

--END DRAFT--

A new chapter for the second book...

NOTE: This is a draft of a chapter following a chapter that I had previously posted here. This may or may not make the final edit. Enjoy! -Erik
The Æolus drifted away from the Solar Remedy slowly, running at fractional speed. Kursk sat in the co-pilot seat, watching the medical ship’s gaping docking mouth shrink in his viewscreen as his ship’s artificial intelligence package began the automated departure sequence. After a few moments, he felt satisfied with the separation maneuvers, and contorted himself out of the small seat.

“Follow the pre-programmed course to the Shalotha system. Alert me when we’re preparing to exit the thread.” The noise that emanated from the cockpit speaker as a response from the AI package would have sounded like static to the typical human ear. To Kursk’s military translator implant, it was a normal response that he fully understood and could comprehend.

He made his way to the makeshift medical station that Lieutenant Sarilles had arranged for him prior to departure, and checked in on the human form strapped into the crash sling. Quickly glancing at each of the sensor screens to ensure they were active and relaying positive information, he leaned over until his mouth was centimeters away from Christian’s ear.

“Christian, can you hear me?”

The human form did not respond.

“I hate to do this to you, but…” Kursk’s voice trailed off as he reached for a black satchel located at the foot of the crash sling. He quickly opened it, rummaged through the contents, and pulled out a syringe. He looked back into the bag, then pulled out a vial, from which he filled the syringe. Flicking the tip of the needle, he quickly found a vein in Christian’s arm and injected the entire syringe of liquid into his arm. Kursk leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, watching.

Within minutes, the bio-sensors monitoring Christian’s vitals began beeping, indicating rapid changes in his status. Kursk studied the screens, watching for any deviations from the expected heart rate increases. The sensors began slowing back down, and the beeping ceased as the new levels took hold.

“Christian, can you hear me now?”

Christian took a gasping breath, and opened his eyes. The restraints in the crash sling tightened as he struggled to move his arms and legs.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Christian,” Kursk said slowly, pushing off the wall with his foot and leaning in towards the clone. “Don’t worry, the pain will go away shortly. It’s an unfortunate side-effect of the drug. More importantly, I have more of that, when you need it.” He winked awkwardly at Christian. “Just let me know.” He stopped and pulled away, and began to pace about in the cramped room.

“Christian, Christian, Christian. Oh, the things you’ll see, the things you’ll do. You will be amazed.” He clasped his hands behind his back as he paced, looking over at Christian every few steps. “I need you to understand some things, Christian, before they begin to happen. The more you understand and accept them, the more – how should I say this – enjoyable your experience will be. In about five minutes, you’re going to find that your ability to speak has returned. Try not to scream, as it will echo through the ship, and that will annoy me. Talk, whisper, sing, curse – whatever. Just don’t scream. I hate that. Also, your motor control will be back, which means you’ll be able to try and escape from your restraints. Heed my advice – don’t struggle. You’ll just waste your strength, and I really need you to make a full recovery soon.” He stopped and looked directly into Christian’s eyes. “Did I mention that you’re not on Earth anymore? I don’t believe I did, so there you have it. You’re not on Earth. Not even in the solar system. You’re more than twenty light years from home. How’s that for a shocker?” Kursk smiled a wide smile that featured his gleaming white teeth. “I’m sure you’ll have questions galore when you’re fully calmed down. I’ll answer one for you now though, as it’s one I’ve gotten quite a bit with previous experiences. You’re probably wondering why my mouth movements are not matching the words you’re hearing, much like a hologram out of sync with the voice over. Don’t worry, it’s not the drugs. This might be hard for you to accept, but here goes – I had a neural translator implanted through your ear canal while you were unconscious.” He waved his hand in a dismissive fashion towards Christian. “I know, I know, how generous of me. Don’t worry, you won’t even have to pay me back. Think of it as a gift.” He smiled again, broadly. “It receives and transmits to other implants in the area, such as the one in my ear –,” Kursk pointed to his left ear, “- and translates what I’m saying into your language, whatever language it is that your brain decides to work with. It will work with almost all other translator implants, so you should be able to understand anything that anyone else is saying to you.” He paused, looking at the bio-sensor readouts. “Very good, Christian. Your heart isn’t racing too terribly fast. You may actually be stronger that I thought. It’s time to let you rest for a bit. I’ll be back in a while. Rest up.” Bowing his head slightly, Kursk backed out of the room, and spun out of Christian’s view.



Christian’s biological functions began to return just as the man had said they would. Almost on cue, he could make guttural noises in his throat, and began to form words. The feeling in his hands and feet came back quickly, and he fought the urge to pull against the restraints. He struggled to understand this reality. Or was it a dream? The man had been speaking to him, but it looked as if he was from a foreign film, with the voice dubbed over in English. It was a strange sight for Christian. He couldn’t be sure he wasn’t dreaming. What did he say about drugs, Christian wondered, trying to remember.

Overcoming his initial shock, he looked around the room, still frightened with everything that was happening. He thought back to his last memories. He could see the light floating in the sky, and speaking to someone about it. Katie! His heart jumped. He was with Katie! He looked around the room quickly, searching for any sign of her. Not seeing her, he tried to focus on other events. He vaguely remembered Katie yelling to him, but the details of what she was saying escaped his memory. Someone, something had come down from the light. And then his world had gone dark.

“Oh my God, I’ve been abducted by aliens,” Christian sobbed in terror.



Time passed slowly for Christian. Without any reference point visible, he wasn’t sure if it had been one hour or two since his captor had left him. Thinking back to his introduction to the man, he couldn’t help but wonder how it was that a human had abducted him. Then again, he couldn’t yet be certain that he was indeed twenty light years from Earth, as the man had said. Perhaps he was merely some deranged psychotic that took pleasure in kidnapping people. After all, that was more likely than him being with an alien that happened to be human.

Pulling lightly on his restraints, he found that they tightened ever so slightly each time he tugged on them. After each time, his body felt a little more drained, as if his small bursts of energy to pull against the restraints were using a disproportionate amount of energy. Maybe that guy was telling the truth, he thought to himself as he remembered the warning about struggling.

Without anything else to do, his thoughts continued to drift back to Katie and what had happened to her. Was she nearby? Was she left alone? Was she hurt? His lack of knowledge about her whereabouts made him feel uneasy. He needed to know.

“Can anyone hear me,” he shouted out towards the hallway beyond the door. “Hey, is anyone there. Someone help me!” Within seconds he heard an audible sign, and the sound of boots clomping across a metal floor. The head of the man with the long white hair suddenly came into view in the doorway, peeking around the edge, frowning slightly at him.

“Surely you remember that I asked you not to yell,” he said with a hit of disapproval in his voice. He stepped into the doorway, bringing himself into Christian’s full line of sight. Christian gave him a long look, taking in all of the details. The man’s hair was pure white, long, and pulled tautly back into a ponytail. His facial features were very human, with eyebrows to match his hair, a long thin nose, and smooth skin. His square jaw completed the severe look. Christian wasn’t very good at guessing heights, but the man appeared to be fairly tall as he stood in the doorway. He was wearing a mono-chromatic orange outfit, with matching boots and gloves. Christian assumed that it was some sort of uniform.

“Hello,” the man said, drawing out the word. “Are you listening? Stop yelling.” He bit off each of the words as he breathed them. He stepped over to the bank of bio-sensors and looked over each of the readouts.

“Well, well, well,” he muttered to himself. Looking over at Christian, he gave him a slight smile and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So, can you tell me your full name?”

Christian looked at him defiantly, and clenched his mouth tightly.

Seeing no answer forthcoming, the man reached over and slid his hand under Christian’s jaw, grabbed his jaw firmly, and began to apply pressure until Christian’s mouth opened slightly.

“Shall I pry it out of you,” he asked, his gaze boring into Christian. He shook his head slightly at the man, suddenly afraid of what he might do to him if he didn’t tell him his name.

“My name is Christian,” he struggled to say through the crushing pain of the man’s grip. The pressure on his jaw immediately eased, and he watched as the man pulled his gloved hand back away from his jaw.

“Full name,” the man signed impatiently.

“Christian Franklin.”

“No middle name? No prefix, suffix, or grand title?” The man gestured questioningly at Christian with his hands turned upwards.

“Christian Allen Franklin. I guess my title would be ‘mister’?”

“No, it’s not. You have no title. Yet.” He paused before uttering the last word. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

Christian shook his head indicating that he did not.

“I’ll share what I know about that at another time. Right now, we need to go over some rules before I free you.” Before he could continue, Christian pulled his head forward and interrupted him.

“Where am I? Where’s Katie? Who are you?” The man abruptly stood up and turned to leave the room.

“Wait! Wait,” Christian called out after him. The man stopped, but did not turn around to face him.

“When you learn not to interrupt me, we can continue our conversation. If you would have listened, you would have learned that the first rule is not to interrupt me while I’m speaking. Enjoy your morning.” With that, the man strode out of the room, slapping something on the outside of the wall as he exited, causing a recessed door to whisper closed.

“God dammit, come back here!” He continued to yell for a few minutes, and then stopped when he began to feel light headed. The door remained closed, and he could hear nothing of what was happening outside the room.

“At least I know it’s morning,” he signed to himself. Leaning back again and relaxing, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.



Christian awoke to the sound of the man calling his name. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing the looming image of the man as he stood over him.

“Good afternoon. Shall we try again?” The man smirked at him as he watched Christian fully awaken. Christian nodded in agreement and tensed his body, waiting for whatever would happen next.

“What is the first rule, Christian?” The man waited for him to answer.

“Don’t interrupt when you’re speaking,” Christian answered back in a monotone voice.

“Very good. See, you can follow direction. Excellent. Here are the other rules. If you fail to obey any of these three, you’ll be right back here, restrained until we reach our destination.” Christian opened his mouth to ask where they were going, but quickly clamped it shut so he wouldn’t interrupt when he saw the man raise his finger at him.

“Rule number two: You will do as I say, when I say it, without question or delay. Repeat.”

“I’ll do what you say, when you say it. Don’t ask questions; don’t delay.” Christian dragged out the sentence, slowly pronouncing each word. The man nodded slowly, watching as Christian finished his sentence.

“Rule number three: Don’t attempt escape. Repeat.”

Christian sighed loudly. “I won’t escape.”

The man shook his head quick. “No, no, no. I said don’t attempt to escape. The difference is very important. One can’t happen without the other, and you need to realize this. Do not attempt to escape.” The man emphasized each word in his last sentence.

“I won’t attempt escape,” Christian replied, slightly confused about the importance of the wording.

The man sat still for a moment, watching Christian. He thoughtfully stroked his jaw, then tapped his nose with his finger.

“All right. Here we go. Remember the rules.” He leaned over and released the restraint locks, freeing Christian from their grasp. He twisted backwards and did the same to the waist and ankle restraints. As he released the last one, he jumped up and backed away from Christian, poised for any movement. Christian propped himself up on an elbow and rubbed his wrist, looking at the man.

“So, do you have a name or something,” Christian asked awkwardly. He began rubbing the other wrist, trying to erase the marks left by the restraints.

“Kunraa. Kursk Kunraa. You may call me Mr. Kunraa for now.”

“Why can’t I just call you Kursk?”

Kursk quickly advanced upon Christian, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until he had him pinned on his stomach. Leaning down, he hissed his response in Christian’s ear. “Because you haven’t earned the right or respect to use it. Don’t ever say my first name until I say you may.”

Christian grimaced against the pain in his wrist. Just as quickly as he had felt it, the pressure eased up, and Kursk was standing again, watching Christian intently. Once the last remnants of pain had cleared from his arm and wrist, Christian swung his legs over the side of the crash sling, steadying himself against the dizziness that he felt in his head. Lowering his head and closing his eyes, he heard the voice of Kursk coming to him from across the room.

“Recovery from stasis takes a while, even with the stimulant that I gave you earlier. You’ll need to be careful for the first day or two. Sudden movement may cause you to experience dizziness and nausea. Put this on -” Something landed on the crash sling next to Christian. “- and then come out of the room. Go to your left. There is a small galley there. We can eat something and discuss what the future may hold for you. I will be waiting for you. Remember, to your left, not to the right.” Christian nodded and waved feebly at Kursk, afraid that waving too vigorously would make him vomit. He heard Kursk turn on his heel and walk out of the room, followed by the sound of the door closing behind him. Christian was thankful that Kursk was no longer in the room to witness the embarrassment as the bile that had been threatening to erupt from him finally forced its way past his lips and spewed out onto the floor. I hate this, he thought as he loudly wretched another mouthful of bile from his stomach.



From what Christian could tell, he had been laying on his side on the crash sling for about fifteen minutes, willing the nausea to go away. Each time he had attempted to sit upright, he felt another round creeping upwards from his stomach. While he had been laying there, a small droid had hovered in and cleaned up the mess that he had made on the floor earlier. He was thankful that Kursk hadn’t come back in and seen him in this state. He’d probably laugh at me and then make me sleep in the mess, he thought, shuddering at the thought.

Forcing himself upright, he dragged the garments that Kursk had given him and examined them, figuring out how to put them on. Unlike the jeans and sweatshirts that he was accustomed to, this outfit was a one piece jumpsuit similar to what Kursk had been wearing. It was also orange, almost along the lines of a burnt orange. There were a pair of gloves and slip-over boots bundled in the pile. Holding the jumpsuit up in front of him, he twisted it around, searching for any markings or insignias. Seeing none, he slipped into the jumpsuit and clasped the front together along a seam that had a flexible magnetized strip embedded in the cloth.

Leaning over to put the boots on, he immediately felt nauseous again, and quickly sat back up. After a few attempts, he was able to get both on without getting sick. He looked at his gloves but decided against putting them on, instead stuffing them in the side pockets of the uniform.

Stepping to the door, he examined the control panel, quickly figuring out the controls. Touching the pad lightly, the door silently slid open, and a puff of air brushed his face as the pressure in the room equalized with the outside hallway. He began go to the left when something to his right caught his eye. Stopping and turning, he peered down the hallway. Not twenty feet away was a small hatchway, with what appeared to be a room beyond. In that room was a large window, with a black sky and stars showing beyond. Quickly glancing down in the direction Kursk told him to go, he turned to the right and silently padded down the hallway until he was just outside the room.

Peering through the hatch, Christian saw what he could only surmise as a cockpit of some sort, with a large wraparound viewport in the shape of an elongated flattened half-bubble encompassing half of the room, including the floor. Stepping through the hatch, he inched his way along the solid decking until he was at the seam where the half-bubble met the metal structure of the ship. The cockpit controls were situated so that they were affixed to the metal structure, and created a horseshoe shape that appeared to be floating in the middle of the bubble. Two cramped chairs were attached to the control bank, one attached to the control bank on its right, the other attached to the bank on its left. Both were side by side, situated just forward of the bubble-metal structure seam. The position of the chairs provided those that sat in the seats a three hundred and sixty degree view along a vertical plane, and a one hundred and almost a two hundred and ten degree view along a horizontal plane.

Anxiety welled up in Christian’s chest as he peered out into the blackness of space. He couldn’t see any planets nearby, and all of the star seemed to be very distant. He began to feel nauseous again, and leaned over and braced himself against one of the seats.

“Where the hell is Earth,” he muttered to himself.

“The planet Earth is approximately twenty three point one light years away,” a mechanical voice said, seemingly in his head. Christian jumped at the sound of it, half expecting to see someone or something standing right behind him. Looking around the cockpit, he verified that he was still alone.

“Who said that,” he asked quietly. He waited for a response, but didn’t receive one. Standing still for a few moments, he listened to the silently humming the permeated the cockpit, interrupted by the occasion beep from somewhere in the control bank.

Taking a quick look back out into the blackness, he made a mental note to ask Kursk to give him a tour of the ship. Turning back towards the hatch, he quickly made his way back down the hall and found the galley that Kursk had mentioned.

Christian found Kursk sitting near a small table that appeared to be protruding from the wall. He was hunched over a bowl of something that vaguely resembled beef stew. The smell hit his nostrils as he entered the room, causing the sick feeling in his stomach to return.

“Ah, Christian, I see you’re feeling better. I suppose that the noise you were making wasn’t exactly screaming, so I’ll let it pass. Please try to do it quietly, should you feel that way again, as it’s a fairly disgusting sound. Please, sit down.” He gestured towards a bench seat opposite him. As Christian began to sit, Kursk rose and retrieved a bowl from the counter behind him, placing it on the table, then grabbed a container from an opening in the wall and placed it next to the bowl. He pushed both across the table until they were in front of Christian. He sat back down and began to finish his own food, nodding at Christian to begin eating. Looking down at the bowl, he felt sick again. The liquid looked very greasy to him, and appeared to be cold. Grabbing the other container, he hefted it, then peered inside. Water. He quickly gulped it down, hoping it would help his stomach. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he asked for more. Kursk silently rose and filled it back up from a spigot within the wall opening, then handed it back to Christian. He quickly drank half of the water, then set it back down. His stomach gurgled, and he decided to force himself to eat. He looked for the utensil, but couldn’t find one.

“Kur-,” he stopped himself when Kursk arched his eyebrows. “Mr. Kunraa, where can I get fork or something like that thing you’re using to eat?” Kursk gave him a bemused look, then pointed to the side of his bowl. Christian bent his head down to look at it, and saw that the utensil was attached in a groove on the side of the bowl. After fiddling with it for a few seconds, he finally managed to slide it out of its holder, and scooped up a mouthful of the greasy stew onto the utensil. He had just managed to make it to his mouth when Kursk reach across the table and backhanded him in the face, sending the food flying off his utensil, and causing stars to appear before Christian’s eyes. He momentarily lost his balance, and partially slid off the bench. Reaching up to his mouth, he could feel a trickle of blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth.

“What the hell,” Christian yelled back at Kursk, blinking to clear the stars from his field of vision.

“You didn’t pray over your food first,” he answered back disgustedly. “Let’s call that Rule number four. You will respect God and show your devotion accordingly.”

Christian slid back onto the bench all the way, and then bowed his head, trying to remember how to say grace. He made a quick sign of the cross, and closed his eyes to pray. He could feel Kursk watching him, and he wondered if he was expecting Christian to pray aloud. God, thank you for this food. Please help me get home safely. He opened his eyes and picked up the spoon-like utensil, slowly bringing a mouthful to his lips, watching Kursk intently. Seeing no movement from him, he quickly opened his mouth and ate the food, letting it slide down his throat.

Finishing the meal in minutes, Christian sat and waited for Kursk. He took a painfully long time to finish eating his food, obviously enjoying every mouthful. Once he was finished, he pointed to Christian’s bare hands.

“You’ll need to wear the gloves that I gave you,” he said, adjusting his own gloves.

“Why?”

“Rule number two,” he stated tersely. Christian gave him an annoyed look and made a show of fishing around for the gloves in his pocket. Glaring back at Kursk the entire time, he pulled the gloves on roughly. Once he was finished, he clasped his hands together and leaned forward on the table, smiling sardonically at Kursk.

“All right, I have them on. Now, why do I need to wear these? Can you at least explain?”

“During certain emergencies, we may need to cut off all life support systems except for oxygen. It will quickly grow very cold in here. In order for you to still function without freezing, you need to have protection. The gloves have cinch rings built into them-,” he reached over and pointed to the cuff of the glove, “-that will allow you to work in a virtual vacuum comfortably. In order to activate them, you need to squeeze like this.” The glove sealed tight at his touch. “The other way these will seal is when the sensors built into the material detect an oxygen level below ten percent. Should that happen, it’s best that you find a life support unit and get it sealed. Usually you’ll have already noticed the low oxygen level prior to the sensors going off. The glove will only unseal manually, like this.” He pressed the back of the cinch seal and held it down until the mechanism released. “Your boots work the same way. Obviously, it’s very important that you keep these on at all times while on the ship, even when sleeping.”

Christian listened carefully, trying hard not to show his concern at the possibility of what might happen to him. It was all so surreal. He couldn’t believe that he was actually on a spaceship, being lectured about how to use a spacesuit.

“Where are the – what did you call them – the life support units,” he asked Kursk. He braced for another backlash, concerned that he may have interrupted him.

“Come, I’ll show you. We need to tour the ship as well, so you understand where everything is.”

Kursk stood, and motioned for Christian to follow. Looking down at his gloved hands, he still couldn’t believe what he was experiencing. Following the large, white-haired human, Christian began his tour of the starship.

NaNoWriMo 2010

The count-down is on! Less than a month until NaNoWriMO 2010! With the completion of the Twin Cities marathon fresh in my memory (and my legs), it's time to focus on the mental marathon of writing the next draft during November.

For those of you not aware of what I'm talking about, NaNoWriMo is short for National Novel Writing Month. It's a program that helps people focus their 'inner author' and channel their efforts by aspiring to write 50,000 words in 30 days. It's definitely a tough goal - I've started NaNo four times this past decade, and was only able to complete it twice (with one book to show for it). This year I'm going to start a fifth time, with a goal of 'winning' a third time, and ultimately getting a higher word count than my previous two completions.

Bring on the coffee!!!

To add to the excitementt, NaNo is partnering with 30 different cover designers this year, who will then randomly pick out works in progress and begin designing covers for the novels. This has left me to contemplate whether I should work on the draft for the second novel in the Enemy Calling series (which, to be fair, is already well in progress and defeats the purpose of NaNo), or start on one of the other ideas that have been floating around my head. I'm leaning towards the latter, but I've put so much work into the second EC book that I almost feel obligated to finish that up before focusing on anything else. Either way, there shouldn't be a shortage of material to work with!

And no writer's block (knocking on wood while I type this).

Anyone can sign up to do it. Just go to http://www.nanowrimo.org and set yourself up with a log-in ID. You can post your word count and excerpts every day (or however often you can), as well as peruse the efforts of other writers and see who is local to your area. There is also a program for children to get them into writing. I'm debating if my oldest is ready or not. She's already written one short story for me!

Good luck to all who sign up. Comment or post if you have any questions. You can find me on Facebook and Twitter as well...

Earth-like Planet Discovered!

With today's announcement that an even more Earth-like planet was discovered around the red dwarf star Gliese 581, I started to wonder about how far out we really are from exploring and colonizing other planets, and what would that mean for the travelers' experience. Assumptions for this trip:

1.       Two types of travelers or a long, inter-system flight: unaugmented humans (which I refer to as Pures in this blog) and the cyber-humans (those with augmented physical or mental capabilities, to which I refer as Augs).
2.       Speed of light travel is not possible.
3.       Length of trip is as least 40 Earth years travel time (real years on Earth would be considerably longer due to relativistic travel implications). I started thinking more about what today's technologies would look like in the near future for interstellar travel. Specifically, what would communication technologies look like?

What would the following look like? Social Media? Internet? Health Screens? Relationships? Governance both in-flight and post-first contact?

Share your thoughts!

Shalotha World Building

Greetings again!

Over the past 6 months I've found myself doing less actual writing, and more world building for Shalotha. As I mentioned in previous posts, the storyline that I'm working on has many of the characters spending time on the planet of Shalotha, so I've been working on creating a more realistic environment based on scientific modeling.

As you may recall, Shalotha is a world that spins faster than Earth, with a higher percentage of water. Because of the faster spinning, days are shorter (about 14 hours), which translates into more unpredictable weather (due to timing), but also less severe weather (due to the hot/cold day night cycles). Since storms only have at most 8-9 hours of sunlight to gain strength, many of the 'storms' in the model turn out to be monsoon type weather, with sporadic hail. Below is the methodology to determine realism (within the confines of the model):

I'm using WeatherMaster 1.1.3 to model the weather at specific latitude/longitude coordinates, based on a dual tidal effect from two moons, shorter days, and less land mass than Earth. The first extended model I conducted was for a 100 year period for a coastal spaceport, with coordinates Latitude 3 degrees N, Longitude 60 degrees East. This places it on the western edge of one of the larger island-continents. The weather zone for this would be similar to Tropical, although wetter, with slightly lower average temperatures.

Also, because of the 16 month Shalothan calendar (447 days for a year), the fluctuation in weather from season to season in various environments tends to be more severe as you move towards the poles. Because my first test is conducted fairly close to the equator, changes and extremes over the course of a year are not as noticeable.

Now, for the details. The spaceport location (as yet unnamed - but taking suggestions!), enjoys a moderately dry spring, which average temps in the high 70s (F). The four months of the spring season only an average of 20" of rain (or hail) total. Winds tend to range from calm to a slightly stronger breeze. Water crests at no more than 6' waves.

Summer becomes warmer, with more clear, sunny days. Average temps range from a high in the low 90s to lows in the upper 60s. Winds mostly calm.

Autumn becomes wetter, but precipitation is more in the form of mists and drizzle. A few days have periodic showers, but nothing significant. Days generally fluctuate between partly cloudy to overcast. Avg high temps drop into the lower 80s, with lows in the lower 60s on average.

Fall is the worst season for this location. This is by far, without a doubt, Monsoon season. Over the course of the 100 test years, these four months combined never saw less than 35" of rain, and had a record of 316" in one year. Storms are the strongest this time of year, although the word 'storm' is used in the sense in amount of precipitation. On average, the monsoons dump 4.2" inches of rain PER DAY, making this not only a very wet place, but also one prone to flooding. Coastal and near inland areas not only receive the brunt of the monsoon coming off the ocean, but are also flooded by the rains washing down from the hills and mountainous areas. Flood advisories/warnings were in effect for entire weeks at time during monsoon season for 80 of the years in the test model. On average the monsoon season delivered 105" of rain over the four months, with the bulk typically delivered in a three week window (variable with no pattern over the 100 years).

So what does this all mean? Well, from a storyline perspective, (and only pertaining to this one area of one continent) visitors to this area will probably want to stay away from here at least the last four months of the season. Also, travel in and out of the area will be difficult, either by atmospheric means or inbound/outbound space flights. Agriculturally this could be a valuable place for growing crops because of the amount of moisture, however farms/growth fields would need to be situation in protected areas so as not to be washed out by rain water.

A few things make it interesting from a character perspective. If you're a human used to 24.25 hour days (Earth) or the longer Martian days, how does Shalotha's shorter day cycle affect the circadian rhythms of humans? With only a little over 5 hours of daylight during the winter (which happens to be monsoon season), this location will be a miserable and difficult place to live. Constant rain, dark clouds making the short daylight hours darker, and short nighttime hours for sleeping would make for a difficult environment for a human new to the planet.

Also, with gravity substantially higher than Earth's, would the rain feel heavier on a human when it hits them? Would it induce humans to stay out of the rain, not for common sense, but because monsoon-type downpours actually hurt? It would make for some interesting challenges in writing the story in this location.

Other considerations - how populated is the area year-round? Does this become an area that is so rain-soaked during monsoon season that occupants prefer to leave the area and come back in the spring? Entire populations migrating by season to avoid weather - it's an interesting concept.

Is the region known for anything in particular? What unique plant or animal life would develop in conditions where there is over 300" of rain per year? How unique is this location to the rest of the planet? If logic follows, and the equatorial zone is the most seasonally stable, it will follow that the mid-pole and polar zones will have even more extreme fluctuations in weather. If not precipitation, then perhaps just with winds, waves (for coastal), cloudiness, and temperature ranges.

I'm planning on running several more '100 year' tests to determine weather models for various locations on the planet, including a moderate/temperate zone, sub-arctic, and arctic. My guess is that the biggest changes will be the high-to-low temperature range fluctuations between seasons, and the changes in precipitation from rain to snow in the higher latitudes. I'll post more results as I get them.

For now, if you have comments or other considerations for the locale in this post, please let me know. It's all about making this scientifically believable, so I need your thoughts on what considerations are missing.

Erik

First glimpse of new work - Deception

Less than a month to go for NaNoWriMo! Are y'all ready for this? (queue up the ESPN sports jam remix)

I wanted to share some rough material and get a little feedback on the character. There is one new character that I'm introducing early on in the book. The following is part of a scene from his introduction. Please post and let me know what you think of the character. Just a reminder - this is the roughest draft imaginable (no editing yet), so please keep that in mind. Also, I can't guarantee that some or all of this text won't end up in my recycle bin at some point. This is more conceptual than anything. Enjoy!

START OF DRAFT TEXT

The status monitors above the bed of the clone registered the increased heartbeat when the electronic voice had spoken. The officer that had utilized the translator droid to speak sat down at a monitoring station in the center of the room and wiped his hand over his face nervously.
“We don’t typically bring clones back out of stasis, especially not off-planet. I can’t predict how he’ll behave. This is against all of our protocols.”
The man the officer was speaking to flipped his hand and waved off his concerns, walked over to the monitors and began looking at the body that the various sensors were attached to. He looked down at the face of the clone, then back at the officer.
“What is this one’s name,” he asked, grasping the clone’s chin with a black-gloved hand and twisting his face side to side gently.
“MAT731, version sixteen,” the officer said nervously, looking around the room. The man near the clone sighed, then cleared his throat loudly.
“His name, not his version number,” he said impatiently. The officer held up a hand and mumbled that he understood. Keying the console in front of him, he brought up the information on the clone.
“Christian Franklin. Earth age approxi-,” the officer began, then was cut off with another wave of the hand by the man examining the clone. He stopped what he was doing and glared at the officer.
“His name. That’s all I asked for. Shut up.” He paused for a moment, and, seeing the shocked look on the young officer’s face, added one word to his sentence. “Please,” he added gently.
He resumed his examination of the clone, lifting both arms, checking his legs, sliding his eyelids open and checking the pupils.
“Do you have the transfer authorization card for me,” he asked without looking at the officer.
“It’s all set. I even took the liberty of maki-”
“Yes or no will do nicely,” the man said, interrupting the officer mid-sentence. He straightened up, then backed away from the clone, tilting his head in a puzzled manner. “Do you have a translator implant that I can borrow?”
“What,” the officer asked. The man turned on the officer, glaring at him again.
“Do. You. Have. A. Translator. Implant. Yes. Or. No,” the man said in a pronounced tone. He gave the officer a disgusted look, then raised his eyebrows and nodded his head at him as encouragement for the young officer to answer. He folded his hands neatly in front of him, watching the officer.
“Ye-ye-yes, of course,” he stammered, scrambling to get out of his chair. The officer went over to a squat box, searched through a medical cabinet, and pulled several small containers out and gathered them up in his hands. Holding them out in front of him, he walked towards the man, watching as he smoothed his long white hair behind him and adjusted his ponytail.
“What’re the differences,” the man asked the officer as he neared. The officer licked his lips, then attempted to shift one of the containers into one hand. The others started to slip, and the man reached out to steady the containers.
“Put them on his chest,” he ordered the officer.
“The clone’s?” the officer asked, seemingly confused.
“Yes, the clone. He’s not going anywhere.”
The officer twisted to place the containers on top of Christian’s chest. As he neared the edge of the bed, one of the containers slipped and fell, bouncing on the bed and smacking into the side of the clone’s head. The officer stopped in mid-movement, and fearfully looked up at the man beside him.
“I’m sure he’s quite alright. Put them down,” he ordered the officer, then stepped back and waited as the officer opened up each container.
“This one here will translate standard Fe-Ruq, Shalotha, and Aormy dialects, both inputs and outputs. This one,” the officer said, holding up a small device about a third of the size of the fingernail on his pinky finger, “will translate every dialect in those same systems.” He waited for an answer from the man.
The man stood silently and waited for the officer to continue. Seeing he wasn’t going to continue without prompting, he motioned with his eyes towards the other two containers on Christian’s chest. The officer put down the unit that he was holding and looked back up at the man.
“Kursk,” the officer started. The man with the long white hair reached over and pulled the officer towards him by his collar, bringing him nose to nose.
“Do not ever say my name. Is that clear?”
The officer visibly swallowed, then barely managed an audible reply. The man let go of the officer’s jacket, and placed a hand on his shoulder, smoothing out the wrinkle he had made.
“Please, you were saying,” he said politely to the officer.
“Uh, this one here,” he said as he picked up the third container, “is the newest Earth translator. This has all of the languages and dialects of the last one, but this also has all of the known Earth languages and dialects.” He paused and looked at the man for permission to continue. Kursk nodded at the officer without saying a word.
“The last one is the most expensive, and probably more than you need,” the officer blurted out quickly, reaching to gather up all of the containers. Kursk laid a hand on his arm to halt his movements.
“Please, do tell. Why would you think that it's more than I need,” he asked.
“Uh, this one is a military encoder for pilots. It has the encryption languages used for communicating with the onboard navigation systems, including the new Devilspears.”
“And why wouldn’t I need this,” Kursk asked quickly. He smiled slightly at the officer.
“Unless you plan on getting him a commission within the military, that little baby has more power than you need. Especially if you just want to talk to this clone.”
“How much for this one,” Kursk asked. He reached over and picked up the last one the officer had described. Opening the container, he peered inside at the small implant.
“This is gonna get me in trouble,” the officer whined. Kursk looked over at the officer and repeated his question. “For you, I’ll go ninety thousand.”
Kursk let his surprise show briefly, then took a step towards the officer.
“Ninety? You wouldn’t be trying to make even more money off me, would you Lieutenant Sarilles?”
Sarilles quickly shook his head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. But if the price is too steep, you can always go with one of the cheaper models.” He paused before continuing. “Or, I can cut you a better deal on that one, and you can put it in yourself.” He gave Kursk a sardonic grin.
Kursk snorted derisively, then folded his arms and looked the officer over.
“Let’s call it seventy-five, and I don’t turn you in for working the black market.”
Sarilles looked at him questioningly.
“Don’t be a fool Sarilles. Do you really think I’m able to be here without someone else approving? If you don’t want to deal, I’ll find someone else that will. In fact, Lieutenant Naus has already expressed interest in working with me should you prove to be, shall we say, uncooperative.”
“Naus,” Sarilles exclaimed incredulously. “She doesn’t even know how to do the implants!”
“Nonetheless, she’s willing to work at a considerably cheaper price to get it installed. In fact, she’s already agreed to throw in the translator installation as part of the package.”
Sarilles couldn’t hide the shocked look on his face. “You’ve already approached her about our deal?”
Kursk smiled at him. “She knows about ‘a’ deal, not necessarily ‘our’ deal. However, if you can’t do seventy-five, then she and I will make arrangements, and you’ll miss out on it all. I believe it’s a reasonably fair offer, don’t you?”
Sarilles sucked in his cheeks, waffling between showing anger at Kursk, and trying not to be offensive. He finally decided on acquiescence, and nodded slightly towards him.
“I can start now. Why don’t you have a seat over there. This should only be an hour or two.”
Kursk patted him on his upper arm, and turned to walk over to the seat Sarilles had motioned towards.

END OF DRAFT TEXT

Hope you enjoyed that snippet. Let me know what you think!

Erik

NaNoWriMo is close at hand!

Yes, yes, yes. It's getting close to that time of year.

No, not football, although that definitely is one of the highlights of the fall. It's almost NaNoWriMo time! Yeahhhhh!

National Novel Writing Month begins on November 1st, and will once again test the endurance and perseverance of everyone who chooses to not only begin, but finish the journey. 30 days, 50,000 words. Can you make it?

For me, this year will be all about finishing Deception, which I started in last year's NaNo contest. For those of you who are keeping up with things, Descent was the first novel I wrote during NaNo (2005), and it was released in November 2006. Deception, the follow-up/continuation of EC:Descent, was started last year, but my lack of focus has prolonged its completion. Unfortunately, I will not make the fall 2007 deadline I had set for myself in releasing the second book.

If you're interested in signing up and writing, check out the link under the 'Links' section on the right. It's easy to do, and it will give you something to focus on other than cold winter nights, leftover turkey, and another Lions loss.

Damn Lions.

Anyway...

I'm happy to share some information I received from Amazon and Outskirts Press. At one point in the spring, my book actually reached #29 on the Sci-Fi bestseller list (which I have no idea how to look at). Pretty cool stuff, although to be fair, the way Amazon researches and posts listings is convoluted and tough to accurately gauge a book's success by. Basically, they take a snapshot at different points in the day. So, at one point in the spring, there was a time period of four or eight hours where I had a spike in sales (thanks Grandma Lottie!) which skewed the projected average sales numbers that Amazon uses. Ha ha ha! Ok, quick everyone - buy a copy at 12:01 on September 1st so I can shoot up to #1!!! Just kidding.

Oh, for those of you that care, I have written a bit more. Not exceptionally great writing (but I'm not sure I can put ANY of EC in that category anyway), but some snippets might actually make the final cut. Also, EC:Descent should be listed by the website Sci-tinuum soon (see the link on the right). If you search Google, there are several links to overseas websites, as well as Pipl and Sci-Fi Fan (which has already listed Deception as the next book in the series).

Other random thoughts to share:
- I'll be 33 1/3 in December; only another 66 2/3 until my 100 birthday! Now taking reservations for the 100th b-day bash. (at this rate, 100 will be the new 50, right?)

- Hemingway's 'Garden of Eden' rocks. Just finished it two weeks ago. If you haven't read it, check it out. It's the last book released posthumously (mid 80's I believe). Pretty contemporary story lines. What a contrast between his characters in this book compared to earlier works like 'For Whom The Bells Toll' and 'Farewell to Arms'.

-Digging my new iPod. Jenny (my wife) bought me one for my birthday. Very cool stuff. It's a blue Nano (huh, is there a connection there?). I've already uploaded my entire Pearl Jam collection and the rest of my legal songs.

-Pearl Jam bootlegs. Did anyone see the YouTube video of them playing at Lollapalooza in Chicago? (or better yet, see them live??) They are just awesome. Enough said. And I'm STILL loving the PJ concert bootleg of the May 2006 show that Jenny and I went to in Grand Rapids.

-What's up with the Tigers? Geesh! Come on, don't let the Twinkies catch you. I'll never hear the end of it, especially now that I'm living in Minneapolis! GO TIGERS!

-Bryan - nice draft Monday. How is it that we ALWAYS seem to pick back-to-back, no matter what year? It's a conspiracy I say.....

My next post will most likely be some rough draft snippets from the new book. Comments are welcome! Always looking for some feedback on how to write a scene better...

Later!

Writer's Block

Hello again,

Six months later...yes, it's been a long time since the last post. I have no one to blame but myself - and writer's block. Unfortunately, it's true. I've tried to continue writing several times since the new year started, and each time I find myself staring at the screen, unable to decipher the next scenes in the current work.

Apxlus is still there, but there is something darker lurking beneath the surface. Every time I scribble notes about him, darkness pervades and the tentative scene becomes one of violence and death. It could be just a fad for me personally; I'm not sure. But Apxlus is troubled, to say the least. Reading the first novel again, I think he came across as distressed regarding the situation that he found himself in. I'm not sure that I was able to capture the feeling that filled him. My failure as a writer, for sure. But the foreboding sense of doom that seems attached to his character whenever I even think about writing with him in the scene doesn't want to go away. Six months later, and it's still there.

I'm perplexed as to what to do with this character. Without a doubt his is one of the single biggest characters out of the first novel. With Angelina Pollard killed off, and Marshall Tennison leaning towards a darker ending, common sense would indicate that this story needs a hero. It needs someone that can lead the Shalothans past the Fe-Ruqians, past the false god, past their own dark history. But the more that I try to write with Apxlus as a center point, it's becoming clearer that he may not be that hero.

Has he done heroic deeds? Debatable. He was a leader, although almost by default. He was reluctant to believe what he was seeing, which would tend to lend itself towards being the one that sees past the deception. But does he really see? That's the question that has to be answered. Does he really see past it, or is he merely having his vision distorted to the point that his image of what is happening is so skewed from reality that he is unable to cope or prevent the events that are destined to occur.

Which leaves us where? Back at the same point, but with a different direction in which to follow. Where does that leave Reaz Apxlus? Does he remain a fixture within the story, or does he fade away as others (Secael, Athes) are developed? Is you read writers' websites, killing off your hero early on is considered writer's suicide. I don't know if there is a nobler option for Apxlus at this point. The question is distilled to merely 'how?'.

Apxlus, what are you going to do?

Shalotha Worldbuilding

Greetings,

I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday season. Ours has been very nice. The children loved all of the hustle and bustle that accompanied the preparatory stages, and of course enjoyed the final day. Even now they can't put down the new toys.

Since I haven't written in a few weeks, I thought I would take this opportunity to share some worldbuilding information with you on the Shalotha system. The system was created in two parts. The first was to create the scientific foundation, meaning that I had to identify a star that could reasonably be expected to sustain carbon-based life. After doing some research on various websites, I found a list of several that are considered to be within a certain range of parameters that met the requirements. I used a program called StarGen on one a many worldbuilding websites. This wonderful program uses scientific data from a star and models gas accretion to supplement your star system with celestial bodies. All of the data is scientifically based, so that there is typically no more than one or two planets that are human-life habitable.

After spending hours on StarGen to find a system generation iteration that met the needs of the story, I found one that ended up matching the Shalotha system. The downside of the StarGen program is that it doesn't add moons in very well, but that can be corrected at a later time. The results of the StarGen program yielded a system with twelve planets. Using a name generator from SeventhSanctum.com, I named the planets as follows:

Base Star: Zeta Tucanae (referred to in EC:Descent as the primary star in the Shalotha System)
Planets, closest first:
1. Imodunth
2. Ammik
3. Hlos (has a named moon - Ahlurus)
4. Shalotha (has a named moon - Surulha)
5. Zrolus
6. Linau
7. Ersis
8. Xeste
9. Hytheor
10. Oron
11. Tertius (has named moons - Zuron and Ilon)
12. Tbarus (has named moons - Aspanep, Eriel, Ithes, Karah, Orhus, Derus, and Paop)

The nomenclature for the naming system hasn't been fully fleshed out yet, however in EC:Deception, more information will be revealed about the system. Some ideas that I'm playing with include having the planets named after ancient Shalothan gods (prior to conversion to Christianity). The moons would be children of the gods. This is not a definite yet, but something I'm leaning towards.

After this basic creation, I began using some worldbuilding questions culled from various websites to begin fleshing out the homeworld of Shalotha. Here, for your reading pleasure, are the original notes (copied and pasted) directly from my file:

BEGIN NOTES
Standard Development Questions
What ecology spawned this life-form?
How hostile is the environment?
Is the atmosphere conducive to reproduction?
Do they breath oxygen at all?
Is the gravity more or less dense than Earth's?
What is their economy based upon?
Is their primary (sun) stable? Brighter than our sun? Cooler than our sun?
Are their tides drawn violently by more than one moon?
Is their history sprinkled with violence or oppression?
Is their culture flavored by their history?
Are their surrounding environments physically challenging? (e.g. snow-capped alps, excess water/sun, subterranean dwellings etc)
Has there been time between bouts of survival for creativity to blossom?


Species: Shalothans
Home Planet: Shalotha
System: Shalotha (Zeta Tucanae)
What ecology spawned this life-form?
The planet of Shalotha is the 4th planet in the Shalotha system (Zeta Tucanae). It is a high gravity, wet planet with a thick atmosphere. The air is primarily composed of N2O2 (91.6% Nitrogen, 7.7% Oxygen). The system star is halfway through the main sequence life cycle. The planet itself is unstable and has high tidal stresses due to its large moon (also terrestrial – 0.591 Earth masses). The indigenous Shalothan species evolved from cave-dwelling crustaceans. The species was further enhanced by extra-terrestrial intelligence in a distant past for the purpose of developing a slave species. The species continued to evolve, and developed its own culture and society.

How hostile is the environment?
The planet is a higher gravity planet (1.2 Earth Gs), with a surface pressure of 2.985 Earth atmospheres (2933 millibars). This keeps water in liquid form longer than Earth, and also allows winds to move dust twice as easier than Earth. Additionally, the constant higher pressure of the atmosphere maintains an even temperature distribution, keeping the surface around 64.0 F normally. The planetary Min/Max is 31.5F/94.8F, but the extremes would be in the polar caps for cold (like Earth), and equatorial Shalothan plains for the heat. The planet has an axial tilt of 17 degrees, causing severe fluctuation between seasons.

Is the atmosphere conducive to reproduction?
Within the caves labyrinths throughout the planet, the atmosphere is stable enough to support reproduction. Surface side reproduction can be completed within shelters. The wet atmosphere is very conducive to reproduction of mold spores, moss, and fungus. The atmosphere typically is 77.1% covered by clouds on any given day, and more than 30% of these are part of storm cells.

Do they breath oxygen at all?
The atmosphere is 91.6% Nitrogen, 7.7% Oxygen. Shalothans can breath heavier concentrations of Oxygen. Their ability to survive in atmospherics conditions with less oxygen made them a lucrative species for slavery on other worlds. Today this ability is an added benefit to warriors fighting in other systems.

Is the gravity more or less dense than Earth's?
The gravity is more than Earth (1.2 Earth Gs), leading to an escape velocity of 13.3 Km/sec. This increased gravity ratio, along with the reduced oxygen abundance in the atmosphere made it more difficult for early Shalothans to break the planetary pull and achieve space flight. Once they did however, their ability to overcome those obstacles provided them experience and insight to better spacecraft design, propelling them to the forefront of the spacefaring races in terms of technology. Few races can compete with Shalothan-built spacecraft, both commercial and military.

What is their economy based upon?
Due to their planet’s atmosphere, hydroponics and agriculture are natural exports. Also, mining, both planetary and deep-space, has become a valuable commodity. Additionally, spacecraft design and knowledge, particularly in the lead-up to the galactic wars, provided a new source of income.

Is their primary (sun) stable? Brighter than our sun? Cooler than our sun?
Zeta Tucanae (known as the Star of Shalotha by the Shalothans) is a stable sun. It is 3.883 billion years into the main sequence life cycle, with another 3.656 billion years left, approximately. The stellar mass is 0.98 solar masses, and the luminosity is 1.30 (brighter than our sun).

Are their tides drawn violently by more than one moon?
Shalotha has one large moon – Surulha. It is a terrestrial planet approximately 0.591 Earth masses, and 0.842 Earth radius. The two celestial bodies could be perceived as a duel planetary system, however the bodies do not circle each other; Surulha has a defined orbit around Shalotha. The planet of Shalotha has a hydrosphere of 87.0%, providing thousands of miles of coastlines for tidal forces to be observed.

Is their history sprinkled with violence or oppression?
The Shalothan species originally evolved from cave dwelling sub-species, however an extraterrestrial species modified the genetic makeup of the species for purposes of labor/slavery. Evolution provided increased intelligence. Over thousands of millennia, the enslaving species was brought to extinction by other forces, providing freedom to the Shalothans. The species used the technology provided by enslavers to continue their own technological development, including their own version of spacefaring craft. Historically they have been quick to wage war against other species that threaten, or are interpreted to threaten the freedom of the Shalothans. Shaolthans guard their freedom very carefully, and have a fanatical outlook on their freedom. Sometime during the past several millennia Christianity was introduced to the culture, adding to that fanaticism.

Is their culture flavored by their history?
Their culture is divided into two distinct periods. The first is what the Shalothans call The Dark Ages. This is a reference to the period that the species was subjugated to slavery, as well as mutated to their current state of being. The knowledge that their current state of existence was not the result of natural evolution is a heavy burden. The psyche of a typical Shalothan is that of never being good enough, and not original. Of having to prove oneself again and again to gain acceptance. The second period is the current era, officially referenced as the period of Salvation. Shalothans believe that they will move into a new period with the arrival of Christ, thrusting their culture into the period of Grace, otherwise known by Earth Christians as the Millennial Kingdom. Once Christianity was introduced, their feeling of inferiority increased as Shalothans pondered if they were truly creatures of God, or doomed to Hell because they were ‘creations’ by another living creation. Two traits constantly propel them to war: their fanatical belief that all systems should be free (as well as protecting their own system from potential enslavers), and their desire to spread Christianity to the rest of the galaxy. Several sub-periods within the Salvation period have provided decades long inter-system wars, decimating both resources and populations within the system. However, the need to fight also provided the motivation to populate other planets within their system, leading to the settling of Hlos (3rd planet out), the moon Surulha, Linau (6th planet out), and Xeste (8th planet out). Additionally, the ongoing wars provided the need for military outposts. This need translated into the known galaxy’s largest orbital shipyard and port/staging area. These facilities are located in the orbits around the planet of Tbarus (12th planet out) and its seven moons (Aspanep, Eriel, Ithes, Karah, Orhus, Derus, and Paop). Large storage facilities are located surface-side on the planet and each of its moons, along with support facilities. Military outposts are also located on each body to support and protect the facilities. None of the moons nor the planet have breathable atmospheres, creating one of the largest hostile atmosphere environment communities in the galaxy.

Are their surrounding environments physically challenging? (e.g. snow-capped alps, excess water/sun, subterranean dwellings etc)
The planet of Shalotha is very humid and wet. The high pressure keeps the atmosphere cloudy, maintaining a moderate temperature. The immense amount of rain creates an environment conducive to large scale agricultural growth. The planet is still geologically active, with shifting plates and burgeoning mountains. The numerous mountains create numerous valleys and protected plains, adding to the diversity of crops. Also, the abundance of mountains provides a natural habitat for the Shalothans, who evolved from crustacean-like cave-dwelling creatures. A large majority of the population still lives underground or just above ground. Large scale cities and dense above-ground populations are not typical. Shalothan cities usually consist of cave labyrinths deep underground or in caves. The current version of Shalothans retains the keratin skin coating of its predecessors, as well as the dim light/no light vision. The synthetic evolution of the species allowed the Shalothans to walk on two legs, and two use two arms. Natural protection against predators both in pre-evolution and post-evolution forms includes keratin ridges on extremities that are knife-like and can be used for slashing, cutting, and ripping, as well as pyrokinesis – the ability to create fire. This ability is created by the secretion of an enzyme through the minute pores in the keratin. The secretion is combustible upon contact with oxygen. Evolution has allowed the species to control the amount of secretion in order to control the size of the flame or ‘amount of fire’ on the extremity. The secretion does burn the keratin with repeated usage. The pyrokinesis is not typically used by the population while living in the caves/labyrinths. Warriors and priests are typically the only Shalothans that would use this ability in any form.

Has there been time between bouts of survival for creativity to blossom?
The species has not provided any significant artistic works to the galaxy, unless spacecraft design is considered as part of the arts. The species is weighted more heavily towards technical, and this uneven distribution is evident in the precision of its wares, as well as the often uncreative military tactics. Foods are viewed almost entirely as a fuel source, with almost no consideration for taste or visual appeal. Likewise, clothing and living appointments are drab at best; most Shalothans wear basic tunics, including soldiers and priests. The species almost has an abhorrence for excessive clothing, furniture, etc. Shalothans do not typically wear jewelry. The lack of cutting edge clothing and living conditions is in stark contrast to their off-planet facilities and technological creations, which are cutting-edge. The disparate differences are well-known throughout the galaxy, and have been the cause of many other species to look down on them as being ‘backwards’. Shalothan views are that they do not need the excesses, and that the rudimentary clothing, living conditions, etc ‘grounds’ them in their beliefs that they are the servants of Christ.

END NOTES

As you can see, there are the beginnings of some history for the characters to discover in the forthcoming novel. What I can tell you is that so far, based on the rough draft, Shalotha (obviously) and Tbarus have been the most prominent planets featured.

As work progresses, I will continue to refine and develop the Shalotha system, as well as apply the same processes to the Fe-Ruq and Aormy systems. The Fe-Ruq system has already been created using the StarGen program, but does not have anything fleshed out beyond the scientific data, and a handful of names already mentioned (Je-Fin, Fe-Ruq, Ru-Nula, etc). I'll post more on this system, including which star it's based on) in later postings.

For now, writing continues as a snails pace as I find other diversions - creating the systems in AstroSynthesis 2.0 and Celestia, as well as developing the Enemy Calling website.

Happy New Year!

Erik

Ahhh...Finally Published!

Greetings and salutations!

December 1st has arrived - or rather, November 30th has passed meekly into the night. National Novel Writing Month is over, and today brings relief to those of us that tormented ourselves by trying to cram 50,000 words into 30 days.

It was a mad rush, but I did manage to pull off the last 23k over the final ten days, skipping through at the end (more like early evening). Hopefully the results will actually end up in the finished product (Enemy Calling: Deception - late 2007), but more likley than not I'll end up trashing half of what I wrote. I guess that's the fun of it, right?

Other big news today (at least for me) is that last night Amazon.com finally made the Enemy Calling:Descent available for sale on its website. Within a week, it should also be available on Borders.com and most bookstores (via special order). Woo hoo! Exactly 365 days since I finished my first NaNoWriMo month, and the results are out there. I'm not sure if that's a good turn around time or not, but it was kind of a pain in the ass to do all of the rewrites this past spring, so it better be worth it!

A quick thank you to my wife Jennifer for reading (and rereading, and re-rereading) the manuscript in its entirety before final editing and approval was completed. Also, if you didn't know, I wrote in a backkwards way, starting off with the final chapter, and jumping around to whatever parts of the story I wanted to write on certain days. So the fact that she was able to read it AND understand the disconnected story lines in the early drafts makes it that much more impressive (and appreciated) that she kept reading and offering ideas on how to switch some things around.

Now the hard part - finishing up what I'm hoping will be a much more fulfilling and interesting book than the first. The basic elements for a more exciting book are there, and I have a great idea for the climatic finish, but there is so much more to add into the story to set up the final culmination that should tie together so many of the storylines that developed in EC:Descent.

A few things to mention before signing off:
1. The Enemy Calling website should be up soon. Currently the beta version is being worked on, with a home page and links to characters, star system information, ideas on the next book, and general info on the story.

2. If you purchase the book, please go to Amazon.com and leave a review (hopefully positive, but be honest!). The more reviews, the better it will help me with the next book.

3. There are clues in the Descent that give you an idea about the final chapter, as well as setting up some things that will be happening in the Deception book. I'm waffling about whether to add a spoiler section to the website for readers to go to and find out what clues they saw (or missed). Post and let me know if you'd like to see that on the website.

Thanks again for reading, and for your support (should you buy the book). Looks like Amazon.com already has a used copy for sale. Is that a good thing?????

Later,
Erik