Showing posts with label Scifi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scifi. Show all posts

Chapter One: Ten Gold Coins by Joni Parker


 Title: Ten Gold Coins: Book Two of the Golden Harvest Series
Author: Joni Parker
Publication Date: March 3, 2024
Pages: 354
Genre: Fantasy/Scifi

Lady Alexin (Alex), the Keeper of the Keys for the Elfin Council of Elders, returns home to Eledon to help her grandmother clean out the warehouse, but she’s kidnapped and forced to use the magical Keys of Eledon in a series of life-or-death missions with consequences that span across the realms. Her captor, Lord Fissure of the Rock Elves, demands her magical help, but once he’s done with her, he turns her over to the Marsh Elf Sawgrass, a criminal, who sends her into the treacherous depths of Hades’ kingdom in the Underworld for his own benefit. To save herself, Alex calls upon the powers of Poseidon, but he enlists her help with the Golden Harvest for Olympus before the Mentors arrive. His brothers, Zeus and Hades, are the only ones who know where the gold is stored, so Alex follows their trail into the mortal world, only to find they aren’t ready to return. What must she do to get them back to Olympus so she can return home to Eledon?

You can pick up your copy at Amazon at https://amazon.com/dp/B0CW1GJDPH .

Chapter One:

Cleaning out the warehouse wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for my vacation, but my grandmother thought it was a great idea. Several years ago, my grandparent’s house in the Elf city of Meridian had burned down, but the contents in the basement had been spared and moved to a local warehouse. No one knew how the fire started, but I suspected arson, especially after someone reported seeing a group of Rock Elves nearby. 

The Rock Elves had this vendetta against me—I guess because I had one against them. They had yet to provide one knot of actual gold for the Golden Harvest, even though they were supposed to be the Elfin experts on mining. Go figure. They claimed they couldn’t provide any gold because they were too busy moving from Tulon on the southern continent of Sudin to Nexus Island. Come on. It wasn’t that far, and they had nearly 4,000 years to prepare for this Golden Harvest, just like the rest of us. So, I didn’t buy their excuses. 

And the Mentors arrived early to collect our gold because of them and the Star Elves, after they tried to steal our stored gold. We already told the Mentors we didn’t have the full amount, but they came to stop anyone from trying something else. The Mentors’ ships showed up slowly at first, but now, there were a dozen or more in our skies every morning. 

Since the Mentors didn’t need my help with this phase of the Harvest, my grandmother thought it was a perfect time to empty the warehouse. She assumed the leadership role of our inventory team. Lady Anteron, a Crystal Elf and the Antiquarian for the Council of Elders, and my grandmother would inventory the items, while I opened the boxes and moved them around. In addition, we had help from Vortex and Scala, two androids given to me for my heroic acts on the planet of Oltria. They had proven to be a godsend to my grandmother, who had trouble taking care of our house by herself. In the warehouse, they would provide whatever manual labor we needed to move our stuff around. My grandmother estimated the warehouse project would only take a week. Famous last words…

Whenever we finish, I will then have time to kick back and relax before I return to the mortal world. I really needed to decorate my new flat. I had bought it with the help of Andrew Miller, my manager, and the owner of the modeling studio I work for. I knew nothing about buying property in the mortal world, but Andrew did. He had dabbled in real estate before he got into the fashion business years ago. He even had the previous owner leave all his furniture in the flat since I didn’t have any. The only problem was the color scheme, which was white with brown and gray accents. I needed more color.

My vacation was scheduled to last three months until the end of August, which was longer than normal, because my mortal boss, Étienne, a world-famous fashion designer in Paris, and his boyfriend, Philippe, got married on June the first, followed by a long honeymoon to some tropical island I’d never heard of. To get the time off, we crammed six months of work into three after finishing the spring show in February. We stored the fashion collection in a vault, only to be opened on September first, three weeks before the fall show, but with enough time to make any necessary changes and adjustments. 

On June the first, Étienne and Philippe held the largest wedding I’d ever been to. There were thousands of guests, with celebrities and non-celebrities alike in attendance, and with extensive press coverage. It was the social event of the season in Paris. The next day, the ecstatic newlyweds left for their honeymoon, while I went to my flat in London. I lived there because it was closer to the portal I used to get back home to Eledon, and I wasn’t fluent in French. 

I arrived late in London on the Eurostar, the bullet train from Paris, and spent the night in my flat. Early the next morning, I jogged to Hyde Park with my travel bag and strolled over to the bushes where the portal to Eledon was hidden. After I made sure no one was around, I said the spell to make the portal appear and stepped through the glowing white arch. I closed it quickly to prevent unwanted visitors from wandering in. It happened before.

The sun was just rising over the horizon in Eledon as I strolled through the meadow near the Council building. It was one of the largest structures in the city of Meridian, measuring two hundred feet across and another two hundred feet high. It looked like a giant white cube with a pyramid on top that housed the huge crystal needed to communicate with our Mentors, the Elf guides. The Council of Elders had twelve members, the most powerful Elves in Eledon, which included my grandfather, Lord Odin. Not only did they govern the Elves, but they also kept in touch with the Mentors every day. I was a staff member for the Council, the Keeper of the Keys, the youngest one ever selected and the first woman.

Sunrise was my favorite time of day because it was so quiet. As I stared up the hill at my grandparent’s house, I hardly recognized it. The two-story house had been painted beige with green and black highlights while I was gone. Although it was a lovely house, it wasn’t like the old one, which had burnt down and was conveniently located across the street from the Council building. I reminisced about the good old days as I climbed to the top of the hill.

When I strolled in, my grandparents were sitting at the dining table, eating breakfast. My grandmother got up and smiled.  

“There you are!” She kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll have Scala bring you some breakfast.” She left, so I kissed my grandfather on the cheek. My grandfather was the Tree Elf Representative on the Council of Elders, one of its senior members. He was tall, blond, and extremely handsome, looking younger than his three thousand five hundred years. He was younger than any other member, and had been on the Council for over two thousand years. A few years ago, he married my grandmother, Lady Lestin of the Water Elves, and became my grandfather. I had known him all my life since he delivered me when I was born. 

My grandmother was one of the most beautiful women in Eledon, with blond hair and blue eyes. The only trait we shared was the color of our eyes. I was of mixed race, part Elf and part mortal—my hair was as black as coal, and my ears were rounded like a mortal. According to my grandmother, I resembled my grandfather, Themius, who was a Titan.

My grandmother returned with Scala, our android servant. Last year, I’d received three android servants as a gift from the Oltrians for saving their President’s life. I took Ratio to my brother who lived about fifty miles away, where he stayed, since my brother’s family needed the help and Ratio had been with our Oltrian family the longest, but Scala and Vortex remained with us in Meridian, taking care of my grandmother’s house. 

“Welcome back, Keeper.” Scala set a plate in front of me. She’d made me an English breakfast with eggs, bacon, beans, roasted tomatoes, mushrooms, and toast. I had shown her how to make it on my last trip home and gave her a book of recipes as a gift.

My grandmother poured me a cup of tea and sat down at the table. “So, are you ready for our historical adventure?” she asked. 

“Historical adventure?” My grandfather raised his brows. “I thought Alex came back to help you clean out the warehouse.”

“She did, but the items stored in those crates are at least a thousand years old; some may even be older.” She smiled. “We could even find some items of historical significance to donate to the museum.” 

I covered my mouth and laughed. “And why did it have to be done this month?”

“The annual renewal is due, and I can’t see paying for another year of storage.” 

“You know what? I’ll pay. How much is it?” I had some Elf coins tucked away. As the Keeper of the Keys, I received a small stipend from the Council. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t want to buy the place,” she said. “It’s an ugly building. Now, change your clothes. You’re going to get dirty in there.”

“Give me a break, Grandmother. Let me finish eating. Then I’ll be happy to help you.” 

“You’ll have plenty of time to relax later. The warehouse caretaker is expecting us in ten minutes. Go change. Now!” She strolled out of the room.

I sighed and looked over at my grandfather, who pressed his lips together to keep from laughing out loud. “What have you done to my grandmother?” I asked him, and we burst out laughing. 

“I suggest you do as she says before she casts a spell on you.” His blues eyes twinkled as he smiled.

In defeat, I raised my hands in the air. “All right. I’m going.” I stuffed the last of my breakfast in my mouth and went upstairs to change into my jungle camouflage uniform, which I had brought from the mortal world for this job. It was sturdy, warm, and wouldn’t show any dirt. I also had a pair of steel-toed boots that would be useful, manhandling the wooden crates. I got the uniform a few years ago, when I first got to the mortal world and wanted to join the British Royal Marines, but after they turned me down, the clothes remained hanging in my wardrobe, useless until now. 

When I rejoined my grandparents at the dining table, my grandmother stared at my uniform. “What kind of outfit is that?”

“It’s called a jungle camouflage uniform. Mortal soldiers wear it in the jungle, so they can blend into the background, and the enemy would have trouble seeing them.”

“I can see you perfectly,” my grandmother said. 

“We’re not in a jungle.” I smiled at her.

“By the way, here are your keys, Alex.” My grandfather slid over the leather pouch holding the magical Keys of Eledon.

“Can’t you hold them while I’m working in the warehouse, Grandfather?” 

“It’s your job. I told you I would hold them when you’re NOT here.” My grandfather had once been the Keeper, so he knew what to do if I was gone. But even he didn’t know their full magical abilities until I found out.

Over the years, I learned the keys were part of the maintenance system for Eledon. Our Mentors, the Elf guides, created this land for us when we were forced to leave Earth. We lived inside of a globe on a flat surface somewhere in space. We knew very little about our globe—we didn’t know if we orbited a sun or if there were other planets around us. Our skies were artificially created by the Mentors and projected on the interior surface of our globe, copying the patterns seen on Earth. So far, none of the mortal scientists, who used to live here, could find us on any known galactic map, so no one was sure where we were. 

In addition, myths and legends surrounded the Keys of Eledon. There were thirteen of them, and one old Elf myth claimed the keys were so powerful a person could rule Eledon if he or she had them. I doubted that was true because I wasn’t even in charge of cleaning the warehouse. I picked up the leather pouch holding the keys from the table and stuffed them into a pocket on my left leg. This uniform had pockets everywhere.

“It should take us only a week or so, maybe less with Scala and Vortex helping us,” my grandmother said, trying to reassure me. “Lady Anteron will meet us at the Council building when we take your grandfather there for the morning meeting.” My grandmother reached over and placed her hand on mine. “Thank you so much for helping me, Alex.”

“You’re welcome, Grandmother. It’s my pleasure.” Okay. So, I lied a little—I wasn’t too thrilled about the project.

As we headed down the hill toward the Council building, Lady Anteron, the Council’s Antiquarian, stood on the steps waiting for us. She maintained her residence in the building since she was single and didn’t own a house in Meridian. I considered her to be part of our family because she had been engaged to my grandmother’s brother, Lord Carver of the Water Elves. He was one of the twelve Dukes in the King’s Fleet, but someone murdered him before the wedding took place. Lady Anteron had yet to find someone else to marry even though she was beautiful and kind, with long dark hair and large green eyes. 

We left my grandfather at the Council building so he could attend the morning meeting. I felt a twinge of envy as he left. I should go with him, but I had to skip the meeting, so I could… clean the warehouse. Ugh!

Vortex and Scala followed behind us. Vortex was a tall, male android with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He had broad shoulders and powerful arms, looking like he could take someone’s head off in a fight, even though he was extraordinarily gentle. On the other hand, Scala could be testy. She was tall and thin with brown hair. Her facial features were plain, and her eyes were light blue. She did her job well even if she complained about it. I couldn’t figure out how to turn the complaint feature off, but there had to be a way. It didn’t matter. My grandmother loved them anyway, and they were a great help around the house. 

The warehouse was near the harbor about a half mile away from the Council building. We meandered through the docks, strolling past the wooden ships of the Water Elves. My cousin, Prince Darin, was the Duke of the First Seas, and protected the city of Meridian and the continent of Easton with his fleet of ships. I wasn’t sure how many he had, but over a thousand at least. 

The warehouse caretaker met us at the door. He was a short stocky Elf, wearing the clothes of a worker—sturdy britches and a blue shirt with a brown jacket and boots. He doffed his hat and bowed to us as he showed us to our section inside. 

From the outside, the warehouse looked like an old wooden barn—it probably was at one time. It had no windows, but a large barn door and a wooden floor. An old pot belly stove stood in the corner, empty and cold. My grandmother asked the caretaker to light a fire to take the chill off, but I was already removing my jacket. The cool air felt good to me.

I counted fifty wooden crates, stacked high along the wall. Vortex and Scala climbed up to get the crates from the top and brought them down. From there, I pushed them over to a spot near the stove where the ladies planned to work. I popped the lids off with a hammer and crowbar and told the two androids to bring more. As the two ladies began sorting, anything salvageable went in one stack, and items to be burned went in another. Anything questionable was set aside for a decision later. In my humble opinion, nothing was worth saving. Everything was too old.

As the ladies sorted through another crate, they ooh’d and ah’d over some old gowns, once worn by my grandmother’s mother and her mother. They liked the styles and wondered if the dressmaker could reproduce them, so they set them aside to take to the dressmaker later, since it was still too early for her to be open for business. 

The crates with men’s clothes didn’t bring a similar reaction, except for one jacket, worn by my grand-uncle on the night he proposed marriage to Lady Anteron. It meant a lot to her, so she kept it. The rest of the men’s clothes were put in the ‘to be burned’ bin.

Other crates contained old books, many of which were disintegrating, so we set those aside to be burned, and those in better condition were separated for the librarian to review. We also set aside all the old documents we found to be read by someone who could determine if they were important enough to keep. Some could be historic, as my great-great-grandfather signed them—he was once the King of the Water Elves. 

After sorting through a dozen crates, the ladies took a break for lunch and a stop at the dressmaker’s stall in the market, while I remained at the warehouse to finish sorting the crates. Vortex carried an armful of old dresses to the market for them, while Scala went to buy us lunch. They were coming back later, so we could eat lunch on the patio table nearby.  

The caretaker appeared as I threw the last armful of clothes onto a pile. “What are these, Miss Keeper?” 

Like most people, he addressed me by my title, Keeper, instead of my name. Many considered my position as Keeper of the Keys to be ceremonial, with little responsibility except to hold the magical Keys of Eledon. As time passed, I’ve found my position was hardly ceremonial and put my life in jeopardy on several occasions. 

“These clothes are to be burned, Master Caretaker.” I pointed to the stack I was building. “They’re at least a thousand years old and falling apart.” I held up a shirt and ripped the collar off with ease. 

“Is there more?” He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“There will be. You can burn them later. We still have a lot of work to do.” I stretched my arms overhead and yawned. “Is there any water nearby?” 

“Aye, Keeper. I forgot to mention it earlier. There’s a fountain ‘round back. Good water.” He pointed to the far side of the warehouse.

As I turned away, the caretaker tackled me from behind, knocking me to the ground. I screamed as he flipped me over and covered my face with a cloth soaked in ether, a drug used by the healers for sedation. I had no desire to be sedated, and kept turning my face away from him until he leaned his arm against my head to keep me still.  

“What are you doing, Caretaker?” Why was he doing this? Was he going to rape me? Less than a year ago, I had been sexually assaulted and never wanted to go through that again. My feelings of panic escalated to anger, and I used my legs to leverage him off me. Then I scrambled to my feet. He rose and held his hands out.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Keeper. But they told me they needed you, and they’ve paid me well.” He lunged for me once more, and we tumbled to the ground.

“Who paid you?” I squirmed in his grasp and broke free. 

“Not saying.” He pushed me against the wall, so I kicked him in the balls. 

“Ow!” He covered his private parts; his eyes opened wide.

“Who paid you?” I stomped on his foot to demand an answer.

When he didn’t, I unleashed a series of punches and kicks to his body, starting with his face, his legs, and torso. He fell back and cowered, hiding his head under his arms. He wasn’t a trained soldier like me, but he was strong and durable. Even after he endured my beating, he had the strength to grab my arms to stop me, until I spun out of his grasp. 

He lunged for me again and caught me, but I tripped him, and we tumbled to the ground. A green pouch, made of soft suede, fell out of his pocket, and ten gold coins flew out onto the wooden floor.  

“What’s this? You did this for ten gold coins? You bastard!” I screamed and threw the pouch at him, forcing him to duck for cover. Then I kicked him in the chest, making him fall backwards onto the floor, giving me time to spin away for help. If I could get outside, I could run to the sailors on the ships, anchored less than a hundred feet away.  

As I ran toward the door, an enormous Elf appeared out of nowhere and blocked it. He was so tall his head brushed the top of the door opening, and so wide I couldn’t get around him. I’d never seen anyone so big in my life; he was literally the size of the barn door. Could he be a Fire Elf? No, he couldn’t be—Lord Ashur was the last of the Fire Elves. 

Before I had a chance to ask, the giant Elf swung his arm, knocking me to the ground, but when I clambered to my feet, he backhanded me, sending me tumbling across the floor. The caretaker scrambled over and placed the ether-soaked cloth over my face—I inhaled and was woozy in seconds. My world turned blurry, before I blacked out.  



About the Author:


Joni Parker was born in Chicago, Illinois, but moved the Japan when she was 8, so her father could become a professional golfer. Once he achieved his dream, Joni and her family returned to the U.S. and moved to Phoenix, Arizona. After high school, Joni served her country for 22 years in the Navy and another 7 years in federal civil service. She retired and lives in Tucson, Arizona, devoting her time to writing, reading, and watching the sunrise.

Author Links  

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Chapter One: The Edison Enigma by Thomas White


Title: The Edison Enigma
Author: Thomas White
Publication Date: February 29, 2024
Pages: 196
Genre: Scifi/Mystery

Edison, a Chicago physicist, manages to successfully transport an object through time. Almost immediately following this success Dr. Edison is shut out of the facility and told by benefactor Raphael Barrington, to take a vacation. He is contacted by Don Rivendell, a grizzled old man with a secret. Rivendell explains to Tom that he is not the first person to discover time travel. Someone else went back and changed history by saving a young girl from dying in an internal combustion engine explosion.

Dr. Edison is tasked with going back and fixing history. He travels back to 1904 to find the younger version of Rivendell and stop him from saving the girl. 

You can purchase your copy of The Edison Enigma at Amazon at https://t.ly/_NOoo.

Chapter One: 

The sun reflected off Lake Michigan, projecting a silvery shadow on the buildings along the shoreline as a serene Spring breeze drifted in from the lake. Southbound Lakeshore Drive was as it always was at 8:15 AM: bumper to bumper and moving along at a torrid three miles per hour. Dr. Tom Edison checked the dashboard clock, banged his palm against the steering wheel, and hit the phone button under his left thumb.

“Call the lab.” He barked at the car computer. The number dialed, not fast enough for him, and he heard the chimes through his car speaker. 

 Off to the side of the road, about five cars ahead, he saw a dark gray sedan with the hood popped and smoke billowing out. Clearly, this was one of the reasons for the traffic jam, but he could hardly blame this everyday occurrence on that poor vehicle. The fire department was approaching on the Northbound side, lights flashing. 

“Barrington Scientific Research Center. How may I direct your call?” The male operator asked with professional precision.

“Dr. Bruce Reeves, please.”

“I’m sorry. Dr. Reeves is unavailable. Can I take a message?”

Tom took a deep breath and reminded himself that this fellow was just doing his job. 

“This is Dr. Edison. I need to speak with Dr. Reeves.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice. One minute, Dr. Edison.”

The big fire engine stopped opposite the concrete barrier separating North and South bound traffic. Eager firefighters jumped out and began to set up their gear on that side of the highway. Tom could see that this action would completely stop the flow of traffic. He could only hope to move past the car fire before the fire department shut down the drive in both directions.

The on-hold sound was the local radio station WBBM-Chicago. Lizzo was finishing “It’s About Damn Time,” and the station shifted to a news report.

“The EPA reported today that air pollution from auto emissions has continued to rise. Despite legislation, it has been estimated that each of the one billion automobiles on the road today emits 12gm of pollution per mile. In the greater Chicago area alone, that amounts to nearly 5 million tons of pollution daily. The EPA also reports that petroleum by-products continue to clog up our landfills by resisting the natural bio-degradable break-down process. Citizens are urged to use less plastic whenever possible and are encouraged, as always, to recycle. Meanwhile, on a more upbeat note, a twelve-year-old Evanston boy won the National Spelling Bee yesterday. He correctly spelled “annihilation” to capture first place and the ten-thousand-dollar prize.”

The phone buzzed, and Dr. Bruce Reeves was on the line. 

“Tom. Where are you?” The harried scientist said.

“I’m on Lakeshore and there’s a car fire. Spewing smoke everywhere. It’s sinful.”

“What the hell are you doing on Lakeshore?”

“Good question. Maybe I had an aneurysm. I should have just hit the 90. I’m coming up on Jackson. I’ll jump off here and take the 290. Look, I should be about another thirty minutes. Get the advance work prepped and I’ll be as quick as I can. It was stupid. I should have just stayed there.”

“No. You needed the break. You can only go so many days without quiet and a shower, particularly the shower. You aren’t in here alone, you know.”

Tom chuckled. “Yeah, it did feel good. Okay, just finish the prep, and I’ll see you soon. I have to check some data in my office, and then I’ll be with you in the lab. It’s a big day, Bruce! All the marbles are on the table.”

“Yeah, so is the watermelon. See you soon.”

The phone went dead just as Tom rolled past the burning car. In the rearview, he saw firefighters leap the center divider and begin closing down the road. He let out a grateful sigh as he rolled past the obstacle on his way to making history.

Twenty-two minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot at the BSRC. The BSRC was on 47th St. between Central and Hyman in Cicero. The building was a refurbished refrigeration factory, built in 1948 and acquired by the Barrington Corporation a decade earlier. Tom made his way to the front of the building and pulled into the third parking spot from the front door. The concrete bumper had a large chunk chipped out of the left corner, and the name, Dr. Tom Edison, that had been painted on it ten years earlier was now faded and worn. 

Dr. Tom Edison was thirty-nine years old, stood a hair under six feet, and, while not having an athletic body, had been able to maintain a slim waist. He had been the recipient of the Barrington Scientific Research grant a decade ago and was on the precipice of taking his theories to fruition. The funding provided by The Barrington Research Facility allowed him to develop a technique that could easily change the world as we knew it. Today was the day he would find out if his theories worked. 

Tom entered through the electronic door, slid his ID card into the turnstile reader, and crossed to the elevators. Once inside, he placed his palm against the glass pane mounted on the wall and leaned in for his retinal scan. He saw his reflection in the glass scanner and noticed that, mixed with his black mane, a few grey hairs had popped out. A nano-second passed while the AI operating system, known as the Quint, verified his identity.  “Welcome, Dr. Tom Edison. You may push the button for your desired floor.” Tom reached out and hit the LB button on the bottom of the panel. 

The elevator door opened and Tom moved confidently down the long, white corridor. The fluorescent lights, apparently mandatory in any industrial facility, adequately illuminated the hallway, even if the irritating glow made him wish he had his sunglasses. 

Tom’s office was down the hall to the left. It had a spacious reception area where his secretary held court. His name was Jerzy Bartley. He was astoundingly proficient with scientific jargon and held a unique understanding of quantum physics, not to mention being the most organized individual he had ever met. Jerzy held a master’s in physics and was, without a doubt, overqualified for this job. His deep loyalty to Dr. Edison, his dedication, and his fascination with the good doctor’s work kept him attached to Tom. He had refused three different promotions, and Tom had been so very grateful each time he did. In his early thirties, Jerzy was an African American male who stood six feet nine inches tall with a shaved head and a short, trimmed beard. He dwarfed everyone in the facility. However, his affable smile never failed to start Tom’s day on a good note. Tom entered the office.

Jerzy looked up from his computer.

“Hey, boss. Glad you were able to make it.”

“Very funny. It was stupid to go home last night. I should have stayed. Anything new happen in the last couple hours?

Jerzy shook his head as Tom moved past him. 

“Nope, I got in about an hour ago and everyone was just sitting on pins and needles waiting. How’s it looking?”

Tom zoomed into his office, yelling over his shoulder, “I’ll know in a few minutes.”

Tom sprang into his chair and opened his computer. He saw his reflection in the dark screen. His black hair needed a cut, but who had time? His hazel eyes were a tad bloodshot from over-work, but the dark circles that resided under them were less pronounced thanks to a shower and five hours of sleep in his own bed.

There were several last-minute equations to confirm. Precision was everything if this project was to succeed. Tom immediately became engrossed in his work, and the rest of the world slipped into his rearview mirror. 

Absorbed as he was, Tom failed to see or hear the subtle noises coming from the ventilation shaft that sat at floor level behind him. Had he turned around, he would have seen a beam of light periodically flashing across the back of the vent. As Tom worked, the light grew closer and closer.

Inside the vent, she moved as stealthily as she could. It was cramped, but she was comparatively slight, so she moved with little resistance. In her hand was a small uplink device called The Quince. It was a remote device connected to The Quint. The Quint ran everything in the facility, and she was using The Quince to bypass the security within the ventilation system. The BSRC was a full-security building with redundant security protocols. These shafts were part of the original design when the building was constructed in 1948. Large metal tunnels that webbed throughout the facility carried cool or heated air to every part of the building. In each room, an ornate bronze vent cover sat at floor level. When the BSRC retrofitted the building, the decision was made to install electronic barriers along the shafts rather than replace the entire ventilation system. Because they were electronic barriers, she could use the Quince to override each one as needed. The fact that she had managed to get this far was no small feat. The journey had started one flight down and on the east side of the building. She had to climb up one flight and maneuver to the west side to get here. 

A holographic image floated above the handheld, detailing her route and giving her data on her position and distance to her destination. She approached the next gate, read the number from the top of the frame, and entered it into her handheld Quince. The gate swung open. She continued her crawl forward. 

Three gates later, she peered through the vent that would open into Dr. Tom Edison’s office. She could see the light from the computer casting a silhouette around Tom’s head as he fixated on his screen. She read the number at the top of the vent cover and entered it into the Quince. The vent silently swung open. Now was her most significant moment of danger. As she entered the room, she would have to be completely silent; the tiniest scrape or bump could alert this man, and her jig would be up. Inch by inch, she slithered forward, remaining completely quiet. She managed to get out of the vent without alerting the subject and lay on the floor directly behind the clueless scientist. Placing the Quince on the carpet next to her, she slowly moved her legs under her and stood up, careful not to sway into his peripheral vision. She stood straight up and took two cautious steps forward. Raising her arms over her head, she placed both hands over his eyes and yelled, “Guess who!!!”

Startled, Tom jumped from his seat. He spun around, preparing to defend himself from whoever had just broken in. As he leapt, his fist raised, and just before he swung, he had that moment of recognition.

“Oh, for Chrissake, Lori! What the hell?”

Dr. Lori Pellitier was the scientific officer on this project and one of the country’s sharpest computer/mechanical minds. She was in her mid-thirties, had a slight build, thin but curvy, with dark black hair pulled back into a ponytail. At five foot three inches tall, with blue eyes and an olive-brown complexion, she perfectly complimented her multi-racial background. She had a quirky sense of humor, and this stunt was well within her wheelhouse. She wore baggy, gray overalls that she acquired for her trip through the ducts. There were dirt stains on her elbows and knees, and was overall, just plain dusty from the crawl through the vents. 

“Just checking out the security protocol in the ventilation systems while we all wait for you. This one needs work, obviously.” She unzipped her overalls and let them drop to the floor. Underneath, she wore a blue silk shirt, black designer jeans, and red, bedazzled tennis shoes. Knowing her destination, she had prepared accordingly, and her subtle yet effective makeup had been undisturbed. She attempted to brush off the dirt with her palms, creating a small cloud of dust that swirled around her. She pulled the scrunchie out of the ponytail she needed for the crawl and shook her head. Her black hair cascaded around her glowing face.

Tom didn’t notice. “Yeah, sorry about that. For some reason, I thought I had enough time to go home. Stupid.”

Lori folded the overalls, picked up the Quince, and wandered around to the front of his desk. She walked a bit slower than usual, accentuating her hip movement. 

“I told you Montrose Beach was too far. So, how’s it coming?”

Tom smirked at her reference to his home location, unwilling to address this topic again, and said, “I just need to input one more piece of data, and I’m there.” Tom continued typing while he talked. “So, you can override all those vent protocols remotely? Seems odd; why would they want that to happen if the intent was to keep people from crawling through?” He looked up at her as she slightly tilted her head and smiled.

“Well, it could be a way in, which no one wants, but it could also be a way out in the case of emergency and they wanted to be able to control who’s coming and going.” 

Sitting in the chair, she put her feet up on the edge of his desk. She opened the Quince and was searching through a variety of sites. Holographic images began popping up. Some were schematics, and others were pictures and graphics. 

A picture of a couple on the beach making out popped onto her screen. She looked at Tom to see if he noticed. He hadn’t.

She decided to be a bit more obvious.

“This Quince can access the vents, the elevator shafts, and the hallways. I can see the entire security video feed through this little baby, and it comes with some interesting attachments.”

A video popped up, and the audio caught Tom’s attention. He raised his head and saw a couple falling onto a bed as they began to make love. He chuckled and turned back to the screen.

Frustrated again, Lori turned the video off and said, “So, this thing gonna work? Or are we all just prepping for a picnic lunch?”

“Well, if it doesn’t, we can use your skills to become industrial spies. I hear there’s money in that.” He leaned in quickly toward the screen.

“There it is,” cried Tom. “I’ll send this down to Bruce and we are good to go. Are you all set?”

“Darlin’, I haven’t been awake for thirty-six hours for nothing. Let’s do it.”

Tom and Lori both stood and looked at each other. Tom took a deep breath as a moment of clarity struck him. He started to sweat slightly and leaned on the desk as though he was about to pass out. 

“Whoa, you okay there, cowboy?” Lori came around to steady him. 

He leaned against his desk, hands clenching the edges, overwhelmed. “We’re not messing with Mother Nature, right?”

Lori took his hand and held it tight. Her nails were surprisingly short but well-manicured. Tom squeezed her hand, and its sheer warmth calmed him. It felt good to have someone who understood. He noticed her nails and was gratefully distracted. Looking at the hot pink, he said, “It always seemed incongruous that your nails are so short. For whatever reason, I’ve always expected long, dangerous, and bejeweled.”

She chuckled, “With as much time as I spend on a keyboard, I don’t have a choice. But if I did, I can’t tell you the wonders you would see on the ends of my fingers!”

They both laughed. A moment passed between them. He looked into her blue eyes, felt better, and then anxiety smacked him across the face. 

Tom said, “We can accomplish so much good if this works. I just want to be sure we’re not mixing the pasta and the antipasta.” 

“Kinda late to be asking that question, and it’s antipasto, but okay, no, we are not messing with Mother Nature. If we can accomplish this, then we have to see it through.”

Tom squeezed her hand again, now doubting every decision he’s made. “Is it really best to send a watermelon through first? I mean, is that the best choice?”

Lori chuckled. “Hell yeah! What could be better? Whatever we send has to be organic. We don’t want to use an animal, too messy with the activist groups. Using an orange would be cliché’. Watermelons have size and weight. I’d say it’s perfect, and if we succeed, we can throw a picnic and eat it afterward.” Lori indicates her stomach and traces a line down to her crotch, “Or we could play connect the dots with the seeds?”

The computer beeped behind them. Tom turned and looked at the screen. “Bruce has everything ready. Time to go.” Tom raced out into the outer office. Lori took an exasperated deep breath and followed. Jerzy turned to them as soon as the door opened. 

Tom smiled at him and said, “Want to see history in the making?”

Jerzy laughed, “You know I do!” He began to gather up his notepad and phone.

“Then let’s get moving. History waits for no man!” 

They all headed to the lab to attempt to send a watermelon through time.

 About the Author:

Thomas White began his career as an actor. Several years later he found himself as an Artistic Director for a theatre in Los Angeles and the winner of several Drama-Logue and Critics awards for directing. As Tom’s career grew, he directed and co-produced the world tour of “The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Coming Out Of Their Shells”. The show toured for over two years, was translated into seven different languages and seen by close to a million children. Tom served as President and Creative Director for Maiden Lane Entertainment for 24 years and worked on many large-scale corporate event productions that included Harley Davidson, Microsoft, Medtronic Diabetes, and dozens of others. The Edison Enigma is Tom’s third novel following up Justice Rules which was nominated as a finalist in the Pacific Northwest Writers Association 2010 Literary contest, and The Siren’s Scream.

Author Links  

Website | X (Twitter) | Facebook 1 | Facebook 2 | Goodreads

 

The First Chapter: Moon Deeds by Palmer Pickering

 

Title: MOON DEEDS: STAR CHILDREN SAGA BOOK ONE
Author: Palmer Pickering
Publisher: Mythology Press
Genre: Adult Fantasy/Science-Fiction

BOOK BLURB

“The path to power is cloaked in shadows, so if you avoid all the shadows, you’ll never learn anything.”

It’s 2090: the last outpost of freedom is the moon, the best defense against technology is magic, and the only hope for humankind rests in the hands of the Star Children.

Twins Cassidy and Torr must save Earth from a ruthless enemy at a time when the only force more powerful than alien technology is magic. Moon Deeds launches the siblings’ journey across the galaxy, where they must learn their power as the Star Children, claim their shamanic heritage, and battle dark forces that threaten humankind.

The Star Children Saga follows Cassidy and Torr as they slowly awaken to their destiny as the twin Star Children, born every millennium to reconnect with the source of all life. They come to discover the sheer enormity of their task: to find our ancestors on a lost planet across the galaxy and save humanity from a spiraling descent into darkness. The powers they must wield to accomplish this task are truly frightening and put at risk everything they love.

Come along with twenty-year-old twins Cassidy and Torr, who inherited deeds to land parcels on the moon. They want to use their moon deeds to get off Earth and escape a brutal dictatorship. But first they must unlock their shaman powers.

A rollicking yet poignant adventure in the not too distant future, when we have colonized the moon and nearly lost Earth to a dictatorship. Only the shamans remain free, plus the lucky ones who escaped to the moon.

Join the adventure! An addictive space opera, science-fantasy series.

Book Information

Release Date: May 25, 2019

Publisher: Mythology Press

Soft Cover: ISBN: ‎ 978-1732568808; 598 pages; $21.99; E-Book, $.99; Audiobook, FREE.

Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xt13Js_M-P4

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3uKWq2o

Barnes & Noble:  https://bit.ly/3rQteFx

Chapter One

Star Song

West San Jose, California, Western Free States, planet Earth

July 8, 2090

Cassidy stood in the backyard, staring up at the sky and listening to the music of the stars. The Shaman’s Shield of gray clouds loomed far overhead, covering the sky in a thick, impenetrable roof, and casting a gloomy pall over everything. Ever since the Shaman’s Shield had appeared three years ago, she had not seen the stars nor heard their music. But today the thin, ethereal strains wove through the neighborhood noise. The music was faint, but it was there.

It had been louder when she was a child, before Grandma Leann had shielded her. Cassidy had thought everyone could hear the music, a constant background noise of such poignant sweetness that sometimes it was painful to listen to. But she had realized over time that others did not hear it. Or perhaps they heard it subconsciously, or in their dreams, because sometimes she heard an echo of it when musicians played their instruments or choirs sang. Cassidy had tried to replicate the sound, studying violin as a child, then piano, but neither instrument captured the elusive tones.

The only one who understood was her twin brother, Torr. They had shared a room as children, and she used to sing to him.

“I recognize that song,” he had said one time in the middle of the night. She had been sitting up in bed humming the tune that was streaming through her head. Torr had awoken from a deep sleep and sat upright, staring at her. “I heard it in my dream.”

“You heard me humming,” she corrected him.

“No,” Torr said stubbornly. “The golden people were singing to me. Their song said you and I have to find them. We have to follow their voices.” Torr closed his eyes and sang the melody more truly than she ever had, picking out parts of the multi-layered harmony she had never captured before. And he added something resembling words that she did not understand, but which made her cry.

In the morning he had remembered the dream, but he could not remember the song. For days afterwards he had tried to get her to sing it back to him, but she could not get the melody quite right, and she did not know the strange language. Then when Grandma Leann laid the blanket of silence over her, the song stopped. As time passed, Cassidy forgot the tune she had always hummed. She could only recall hints of it, like wisps of clouds that slipped away as she tried to grab them.

Now the sky was singing to her again. The melody came to her, carried on the wind as though from a distant mountaintop. She was filled with joy to hear it, though the song was more mournful than she recalled. She still could not understand the words, but she remembered what Torr had told her that night in their attic bedroom, that the two of them had to follow the golden people’s voices and find them. She did not know who they were, or where they were, but they were still out there singing to her. Calling to her. Waiting.

About the Author

Palmer Pickering has been writing fiction since she was eight. She received her BA in American Studies from Wesleyan University, with concentrations in Religion and Race Relations.

She currently works in Silicon Valley in the gaming industry and high tech. In addition, Palmer holds a certificate in Chinese Acupressure, is a certified solar panel installer, and studied Tibetan Buddhism with the 14th Dalai Lama.

She lives and writes in the magical redwood forest of the Santa Cruz Mountains, California.

Her latest book is the scifi fantasy for adults, Moon Deeds: Star Children Saga Book One.

You can visit her website at www.MythologyPress.com or connect with her on TwitterFacebook, Instagram and Pinterest.

.com or connect with him on Twitter.

Read A Chapter: Moon Deeds by Palmer Pickering

 

Title: MOON DEEDS: STAR CHILDREN SAGA BOOK ONE

Author: Palmer Pickering
Publisher: Mythology Press
Genre: Adult Fantasy/Science-Fiction

“The path to power is cloaked in shadows, so if you avoid all the shadows, you’ll never learn anything.”

It’s 2090: the last outpost of freedom is the moon, the best defense against technology is magic, and the only hope for humankind rests in the hands of the Star Children.

Twins Cassidy and Torr must save Earth from a ruthless enemy at a time when the only force more powerful than alien technology is magic. Moon Deeds launches the siblings’ journey across the galaxy, where they must learn their power as the Star Children, claim their shamanic heritage, and battle dark forces that threaten humankind.

The Star Children Saga follows Cassidy and Torr as they slowly awaken to their destiny as the twin Star Children, born every millennium to reconnect with the source of all life. They come to discover the sheer enormity of their task: to find our ancestors on a lost planet across the galaxy and save humanity from a spiraling descent into darkness. The powers they must wield to accomplish this task are truly frightening and put at risk everything they love.

Come along with twenty-year-old twins Cassidy and Torr, who inherited deeds to land parcels on the moon. They want to use their moon deeds to get off Earth and escape a brutal dictatorship. But first they must unlock their shaman powers.

A rollicking yet poignant adventure in the not too distant future, when we have colonized the moon and nearly lost Earth to a dictatorship. Only the shamans remain free, plus the lucky ones who escaped to the moon.

Join the adventure! An addictive space opera, science-fantasy series.

Book Information

Release Date: May 25, 2019

Publisher: Mythology Press

Soft Cover: ISBN: ‎ 978-1732568808; 598 pages; $21.99; E-Book, $.99; Audiobook, FREE.

Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xt13Js_M-P4

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3uKWq2o

Barnes & Noble:  https://bit.ly/3rQteFx

Chapter One

Star Song

West San Jose, California, Western Free States, planet Earth

July 8, 2090

Cassidy stood in the backyard, staring up at the sky and listening to the music of the stars. The Shaman’s Shield of gray clouds loomed far overhead, covering the sky in a thick, impenetrable roof, and casting a gloomy pall over everything. Ever since the Shaman’s Shield had appeared three years ago, she had not seen the stars nor heard their music. But today the thin, ethereal strains wove through the neighborhood noise. The music was faint, but it was there.

It had been louder when she was a child, before Grandma Leann had shielded her. Cassidy had thought everyone could hear the music, a constant background noise of such poignant sweetness that sometimes it was painful to listen to. But she had realized over time that others did not hear it. Or perhaps they heard it subconsciously, or in their dreams, because sometimes she heard an echo of it when musicians played their instruments or choirs sang. Cassidy had tried to replicate the sound, studying violin as a child, then piano, but neither instrument captured the elusive tones.

The only one who understood was her twin brother, Torr. They had shared a room as children, and she used to sing to him.

“I recognize that song,” he had said one time in the middle of the night. She had been sitting up in bed humming the tune that was streaming through her head. Torr had awoken from a deep sleep and sat upright, staring at her. “I heard it in my dream.”

“You heard me humming,” she corrected him.

“No,” Torr said stubbornly. “The golden people were singing to me. Their song said you and I have to find them. We have to follow their voices.” Torr closed his eyes and sang the melody more truly than she ever had, picking out parts of the multi-layered harmony she had never captured before. And he added something resembling words that she did not understand, but which made her cry.

In the morning he had remembered the dream, but he could not remember the song. For days afterwards he had tried to get her to sing it back to him, but she could not get the melody quite right, and she did not know the strange language. Then when Grandma Leann laid the blanket of silence over her, the song stopped. As time passed, Cassidy forgot the tune she had always hummed. She could only recall hints of it, like wisps of clouds that slipped away as she tried to grab them.

Now the sky was singing to her again. The melody came to her, carried on the wind as though from a distant mountaintop. She was filled with joy to hear it, though the song was more mournful than she recalled. She still could not understand the words, but she remembered what Torr had told her that night in their attic bedroom, that the two of them had to follow the golden people’s voices and find them. She did not know who they were, or where they were, but they were still out there singing to her. Calling to her. Waiting.

About the Author

Palmer Pickering has been writing fiction since she was eight. She received her BA in American Studies from Wesleyan University, with concentrations in Religion and Race Relations.

She currently works in Silicon Valley in the gaming industry and high tech. In addition, Palmer holds a certificate in Chinese Acupressure, is a certified solar panel installer, and studied Tibetan Buddhism with the 14th Dalai Lama.

She lives and writes in the magical redwood forest of the Santa Cruz Mountains, California.

Her latest book is the scifi fantasy for adults, Moon Deeds: Star Children Saga Book One.

You can visit her website at www.MythologyPress.com or connect with her on TwitterFacebook, Instagram and Pinterest.