All Done

November 30th has come and gone.  My verified word count for the National Novel Writing Month challenge is 50,079 words written in 30 days.  On my fourth try, I am a WINNER!  I am excited, exhausted, relieved, and satisfied.  Now the more serious work begins.  I have to finish the story and seal up some plot holes.  There is tons of editing that needs to be done.  A title needs to be settled on.  A cover image needs to be chosen or made.  Writing the story is only the beginning and the easiest part of getting a novel out to the public.

My brain cells continue to recover as I take a slower, more careful look at the words I have written.  Today's post is one of the epilogues from the end of the book.  If you wish to read the book once it is completed, this shouldn't be too much of a spoiler.  In the meantime, enjoy.

News is being broadcast all over the station. A hidden corinthum processing plant had been located on the planet below. The discovery was due to an issue arising with some odd residue being discovered in a secondary power system for the station. An operation by Sector Security's elite enforcement officers led them to the storage room full of slag. From there it was easy to track down the processing center on the planet and its supply of raw corinthum and other minerals.

Timothy “Timmy” Van Hausen sits in his office when the news comes across his terminal. Without even thinking about it, he compiles a few files together. The files are attached to a message that also includes the names of a number of the people on the orbital station. Names of people that Timmy has worked with in unofficial ways for some time. Timmy's contacts on other stations in other systems also go into the message. The captains he had recruited to collect and transport slaves and their ships were also mentioned. Finally Timmy signs the message with his personal identification code to show the contents are from him and not part of any official procedure or communique. The message is sent to the station's commander, the Sector Security Deputy Director in charge of this region, Timmy's own direct supervisor, and a number of other administrators and officials.

Once the message is sent, Timmy shuts his terminal down and stands up. Despite the fact it's less than halfway through his work day, he walks out of his office with the feeling he won't be back. A short lift ride brings him to the commons. There he sits down at an empty table and waits for someone. He isn't sure who and how long before they arrive, but he will sit here and wait as long as it takes.

This novel is a sequel to my first NaNoWriMo attempt and published novel, Dangerous Stars.  Pick up a copy and get to know the characters while I finish up their second adventure.  Go.  Read.  Enjoy.

Grinding

Since November 1st I have been with hundreds of thousands of writers around the world grinding away at our stories.  50,000 words in 30 days is obtainable for some and a target to be chased after by others.  This is the challenge of National Novel Writing Month.  While I work on filling out my own story, here is a sample of what I'm working on now.  It is the sequel to my first novel, Dangerous Stars.

The ship's AI quickly consulted records for the answers to Lss'Tor's questions. “Brenneth 5 is a basic class M planet. It was settled by a large contingent of religious zealots from Earth with no terraforming required. Previous persecution and religious tenants caused the planet to become isolated. They have no interstellar exports or imports. Sector Security has no presence in the system at all. The nearest sizable forces are in the Maitland system. The remoteness of the star system means that it isn't on any civilian cargo routes or flight paths. We are one of three ships within range of the broadcast. One is an unarmed interstellar scout heading out to explore further outlying systems. The other is a Sector Security battle cruiser returning to the Maitland system from a round of system upgrades.”

Christian speaks up while everyone else is still considering the tactics of their current situation. “There is nothing to decide here people. Interstellar code requires that any ship within range of a distress signal respond if they are able. We are still heavily armed, our cargo isn't critical, and we can leave this pursuit for someone else to pick up.”

Traylor chimes in with her opinion. “Christian, you are simply spoiling for a fight. The battle cruiser can handle things themselves. They don't need us. Besides, we've been warned against converting the KRENNET into combat mode where Sector Security ships could detect us.”

Christian's determination came through his voice. “That battle cruiser can't defend an entire planet by itself. There may be evacuating shuttles that need to be protected. Even an isolated planet will have industrial facilities that would be vulnerable. One simple shot from me and the tracking device will be on this damn Raider. Then we can do what needs to be done.

As for the battle cruiser detecting us while we convert, that's simple. We just enter the system in combat mode. Crystal can alter our transponder to broadcast a false signal. The cargo ship KRENNET won't be anywhere near the Brenneth system as far as anyone knows.”

Granek's rumbling voice cuts through any further discussion. “We are a crew of equals. We will decide which course to take by majority decision. Each of you state 'Pursue' if you feel we should stay on mission or 'Rescue' if you believe we should go to the aid of Brenneth 5. Crystal, could you please record the votes into your protected core for future review?”

“Protected memory ready for recording.”

Granek once again speaks in his rough tone. “Understood. I will call each of you by name for your vote. My position is 'Rescue.' Traylor?”

“I say 'Pursue.'”

“So noted. Christian?”

“It should be obvious, 'Rescue.'”

“So noted. Lss'Tor?”

“Purssue”

“So noted. Fezror, the vote comes to you.”

The engineer's rarely heard voice is soft yet clear enough for everyone to hear. “I can't simply let an entire planet remain in harm's way again. I say 'Rescue.'”

Granek stated what everyone now knew. “By majority decision we will be breaking off our pursuit of the Raider attack craft after planting a tracking beacon on its hull. We will convert out of combat mode to allow for more speed to the Brenneth system.

Now, where did I leave off at.....?   

Shameless Plug

Another page of the calendar has been turned.  It is now November.  Fall is in full swing.  The baseball season has ended and football is roaring forward.  Piles of empty Halloween candy wrappers are growing by the day.  Lawnmowers are mulching more leaves than trimming blades of grass.  All of this can mean only one thing.  NaNoWriMo is in full swing.  Thousands and thousands of writers are attempting to write 50,000 word novels in 30 days.

People all over the world are sitting down to notepads, typewriters, and laptops to express themselves through words.  They are receiving support from other writers through pep talks and write-ins.  Most importantly they are all creating in a way that they want to.

This is my fourth year attempting the NaNoWriMo challenge.  I have yet to reach the 50,000 mark in any one attempt, but my first two tries are now published novels.  My first book, Dangerous Stars, taught me much about how a book is written and made.  Post Exodus was picked up by an independent publisher, Amazing Things Press.

Now, I am a little behind in my word count and there are some characters waiting to see what will happen to them next.

Hard fiction

Some time ago I entered a contest to have a story made into an audio drama.  The contest highlighted tales of "hard fiction."  That is science fiction stories with technology that is feasible from our current level of knowledge.  Time travel and faster-than-light travel weren't options, but things virtual reality, holographic performances, and basic artificial intelligence were possible.

I decided to consider what non-lethal methods law enforcement could use in the near future.  Capacitors in modern electronics can hold an electronic charge for some time.  If someone improperly handles a charged capacitor they can receive a little shock.  What if that amount of charge could be raised and the capacitor fired from a modified handgun?  This would basically give an officer a taser with the range of a pistol.

I also explored the expansion of Google glasses.  The data from IR and motion detectors, computers with blueprint data, personal data devices, and the equivalent of GPS transceivers all relayed to the wearer's heads-up display.  A SWAT or similar unit could coordinate their movements and monitor the suspects without putting anyone else at risk.

I am Christian Thomas, a captain in the Elite Legal Force of the LSC. I lead an eight member team on a mission to protect the residents that rely on us. Our training focuses on a combination of hand-to-hand combat and an array of nonlethal weapons. We are frequently called upon to execute raids on residences and warehouses in order to confiscate contraband items. Today's assignments was no different.

It is nearly time. Hundreds of man hours had been used researching and and tracking this one group. The sting to stop these smugglers in their tracks would keep all that time from having been wasted. All the intelligence my team would need had been downloaded into our individual digital interface devices.

With the touch of a button, the visual interface of my goggles activates. Weeks of training followed by many months of field use allows me to quickly transition between the digital display and the outside world. A floor plan of the building before me is projected in a semi-transparent manner. A real-time infrared scan of the building is being relayed to my interface. The occupants are all marked by sharp red dots. I could see them clearly as they moved from room to room. Their activities could easily be considered those of a typical warehouse operation. However, once the illegal items were removed, all activity here would cease.

White dots surround the storage facility on numerous approaches. These represent my fellow team members. I make a mental note as each person reaches their assigned positions. After a few seconds, the white dots start to turn green as my team members signal their readiness. I check my standard-issue stun pistol to make sure it is ready. I have done this numerous times tonight, but it was a trained habit to check it at each stage of an assault. It was fully loaded with 25 rounds, each carrying enough of an electrical charge to knock out a full grown man.

All of the target subjects were moving around some large boxes in the middle of the main storage area. It looked like we were making our raid at the right time, they were preparing their contraband for distribution.

A second glance through the digital display of my goggles tells me that the rest of my team has signaled their readiness. I press a small stud on the device at my hip to signal my preparedness. This starts a simultaneous countdown on the goggles of each team member. When the number reaches zero, we all spring into action.

I kick my way through a side door into the building as my teammates charge through other doors and crash into windows. Not a single word is uttered as our movements are coordinated through the digital displays on our goggles. We rush from the side hallways into the main room. Our pistols let out a signature sizzling pop as the low-velocity rounds are fired at figures milling around the crates in the center of the floor. A handful of them drop limply to the ground before the group is aware of our presence. There is no time for them to mount any kind of resistance before the only people still on their feet are the members of my team.

The perpetrators were rounded up as they regained their senses. The contraband was sealed into crates and marked for disposal. Chalk up another victory for the Lunar Security Corps.

How far do you see some of today's technology going?  What are some other uses for future advances?

The Power of Art

Great art has always had the power to move people.  Images have inspired feelings.  Symbols move groups to revolution.  One evening I wondered why the power of art couldn't be more literal.  This story was written with the help of the viewers of a live Ustream I did a week ago.  I may do it again in the future sometime if enough people are interested.

I am in a dark alley. Two creepy dudes are blocking my way out. To them I appear unarmed. They don't know how accurately the term “armed” describes me. As they both advance, one of them whips out a switchblade and the other brandishes a bat. If they knew how much I could do, they would run away.

I innocently raise my empty hands and my the glow from a nearby lamp shines on the tattoos that cover my arms from my wrists to the cuffs of the sleeves of my t-shirt. I speak in a calming voice down the alley, “Come on guys. You don't want to hurt me.”

They both take another step forward. The creep with the knife is spinning the blade in his hand. “If you hand your wallet then we won't hurt you, much.”

I lower my hands and cross my arms in front of my chest. I grin at their threat and the surprise they will get when I reveal what I can do. “That isn't much of a reason for me to do what you want. What's to stop me from simply pushing past you two and walking out of here?”

The guy with the bat looks questioningly at his partner and grips the handle tightly with both hands. The other creep pulls out a second knife and swishes them through the air with practiced movements. If almost anyone else were trapped in this alley by these two, they would certainly feel threatened. I, on the other hand, know I am completely safe. The two creeps would be realizing their mistake momentarily.

I lower my arms to my sides, subtly running a finger along one of the tattoos on my right arm. The ink is a picture of a longsword with a red jewel in the pommel. As I position my feet in a fighting stance, the same sword appears in my right hand. Light sparks off the sharp blade. The two men pause in their advances and movement. I grip the sword in both hands and look around it at the surprise on their faces.

“Now, I ask again, what is to stop me from simply pushing past you two and walking out of here?”

The guy with the knives takes a step back and looks at his partner again. “He's all yours H, take him out. Maybe we can pawn that toy sword of his somewhere.”

What followed couldn't fairly be called a fight. A few times the bat clanged off my sword. I finally disarmed H and pressed him and the guy with the knives out of the alley. They didn't say another word as they turned and quickly walked up the street, glancing back a couple of times to make sure I wasn't following them.

The drawing of my sword was something I had been able to do for a few years now. The power to do it was much older, it had been in my family for generations. When a young man reached the age of 20, he inherited the power from his father. The father then lost the power and traditionally would train his son in its use. There always seemed to be a son for these abilities to move on to, regardless of whether one was wanted or not. The only major difference from one person to the next was the exact manner in which the power was utilized. There was no way to dictate how one should use images to create.

I don't mean something as basic as looking at a blueprint and building something from it. The power that has passed through my family lets us take an image and give it life. Summon it if you will. One of my great-great-great-great-great grandfathers used a book of religious images to call forth angels, demons, and holy knights to do his bidding. They didn't last very long, but certainly had an impressive look to them.

My dad kept catalogs and magazines around the house. He would keep a supply of pictures cut out of them in his pockets. If he needed anything, it just took a subtle reach in to his pocket and he could pull the perfect item out. Tools, weapons, a comb or razor, it didn't matter. All of them were right there at his fingertips. It was only a concern when his pants got wet. Then he would have to hit the magazine racks to resupply himself.

I decided to go a bit edgier. When I reached the age of 16 and was told what was going to happen to me, I knew I couldn't just touch a picture and call forth the item. I had to go to an extreme. I make the pictures part of myself and get tattoos. Then I could just touch the proper section of ink and do what needed to be done.

The sword I used on the punks in the alley was my first piece of ink. Others came over time and I perfected the skills each gave me. If I touch a snake that was drawn on my left bicep, the fingers on my left hand would poison someone with a simple touch. Interesting things also happen if I touch to activate other tattoos like a ball of fire, a lightning bolt, or a skull.

Not all of my tattoos came with such simple On/Off switches. For some reason I still don't understand, the cartoonish angel and devil on opposite sides of my neck won't ever shut up. They each keep giving me their opinion ever time a decision must be made. Even when I don't ask for it. If only I knew how to get just one of them to shut up. The truly maddening part is that they have exactly opposite views of everything. One wants to turn left, the other wants to turn right. Sometimes I'm tempted to split the difference, keep going straight, and hit a wall. I used to wonder why my dad suggested I get them as my powers grew. These days I wonder why I actually listened to him this time.

I stroll into my favorite tattoo parlor and look around for something inspiring among all the samples on the walls. There was still some space between the wings inked on my shoulder blades that would let me fly around town. Maybe I could do something creative with a Hellhound. I could get something just for decoration this time...or not.

What tattoo would you get and what power would it gain you?  Leave a comment and let me know.

Coming Soon

A entire day spent waiting to see if I was going to be on the jury of a civil case and numerous days with very little sleep have all left me physically and mentally drained.  I simply don't have it in me to come up with a story for today's post.  So that I post more than a blank page, I will put up a preview of my next book. Post Exodus.  The wonderful folks at Amazing Things Press are currently giving the book a thorough round of editing before it gets released.  In the meantime, enjoy the introduction.

 Prologue

Excerpts and transcripts from media reports during and after construction of the Arks.

“Scientists from many disciplines and countries are predicting a tragedy that would mean the end to all humanity and a total end to all life on Earth. Numerous astronomers have sighted a large meteor on a collision course with the Earth....”

“Engineers from NASA, ESA, the Russian Space Agency, and CNSA have all come together to cooperatively design large ships that could carry thousands of people safely into deep space....”

“Protesters around the world have started demonstrations in countries that do not have their own space agencies or launch facilities. They are expressing concerns about their respective cultures being forgotten due to a lack of representation on the Arks.”

“A fleet of cargo ships carrying supplies and equipment arrived in the port of Ras al Khafji today. The shipments were made in order to build launch facilities in the Middle East. The international Ark Organization has stated they are doing this for two reasons. The first is to ferry laborers to the orbital construction platforms where the Arks are being built. The second reason is a show of appreciation for the drastic lowering of petroleum prices during this time of global crisis.”

“Protests have all but ceased as people from countries around the globe begin to move themselves into their cabins on the Arks. The only vocal group still clamoring to be heard is insisting that no human beings be left behind on Earth. They strongly feel that those who wish to stay be removed from their homes by force. A military General stated, on the record, that he would forcibly move those folks on the condition that the protesters give up their spaces on the Arks to make room. No response to this statement from the protesters has yet been made.....”

“Cheers could be heard around the world today at 7:00 am Greenwich Mean Time as the engines of all the Arks were simultaneously engaged. While there is still some work left to be completed before launch, the engines now make the Arks self sufficient and significantly closer to being ready for launch.”

“Welcome from the inaugural broadcast of the ArkNet, a news and information channel for the residents and crews of the Arks. The final Ark, named Argos, boarded the last of its resident passengers and sealed the outer doors to the living quarters just yesterday....”

“The first Ark to be officially completed, affectionately dubbed Noah, passed its final checks and has been certified as spaceworthy....”

“We are entering the final month of ArkNet. As the Arks continue to head out on their respective courses, the distances between them will continue to grow and require too much energy to maintain constant contact between us all. Before we start our farewells, there is a remarkable greeting that needs to be extended. The first confirmed child conceived on the Arks was born this morning. Rick and Julia Johnson of the Enterprise welcomed their son Kirk to our journey....”

A release date hasn't been set yet, but it should be soon.  When the big day is announced I will proudly display it on my Facebook page and Twitter feed.

A Supernatural Detective

In this modern time crime is ever-present and in all aspects of life.  Law enforcement organizations often have detectives that specialize in one type of crime or another.  Homicide detectives look into incidents of one person killing another.  Individuals of the narcotics division do their best to keep the streets safe from those that sell illegal drugs.  There is no reason why there couldn't be a department that focuses on crimes related to a world many don't believe exists.

Pulling a little from Jasper Fforde's Nursery Crimes Division novels, the Harry Dresden books of Jim Butcher, and numerous stories and tales of the Faerie Kingdom interacting with the modern world, I thought a little bit about a police detective that involved magic.  What tools would he use?  What kinds of evidence would he discover?  How would he track down and arrest suspects?

It was raining again.  Or still, I couldn't be sure.  This time of year an evening shower was to be expected.  This storm, however, seemed to be particularly oppressive.  My trenchcoat was quickly dripping water on my boots as I got out of my car.  I do my best to keep the falling water out of my eyes as I look up the height of the apartment building before me.  I had been called here to visit an apartment about halfway up, on the fifth floor.  I didn't know which window on that floor belonged to the room I needed to visit, but the shadows crossing one set of thin curtains seemed particularly active for such a dreary night.

I climbed the five flights of stairs despite the elevator in the lobby appeared to be working just fine.  With the types of law breakers I tended to chase, being contained in a box as it quickly rose dozens of feet above the ground wasn't an ideal place to be.  That and my general lack of exercise combined to make the ardous trek up the stairs a better option than the otherwise modern convenience of the elevator.

Stepping off the stairwell landing it was immediately obvious to me which apartment was the one where my presence was required.  The two street officers standing on each side of a door decorated with a single stripe of police tape were only slightly less of an indicator than a giant neon sign would have been.  My trained and finely tuned senses caused my skin to crawl and the hair on the back of my neck stand up straighter than a flagpole.  This told me the crime that took place was indeed one that required my talents.

I showed the officers my detective's badge as I pushed the apartment door open and walked in like I owned the place.  A hall stretched away in front of me with a door leading to a room on either side.  The other end of the hall opened to a larger room.  The flash of a camera and subdued conversation of the crime scene techs pulled me that direction.  Reaching the end of the hall I saw it opened to a kitchen and dining room on one side and cozy living room on the other.  The technicians were doing their best not to step on each other as they attempted to collect evidence around a body laying in the middle of the living room floor.

At a glance it appeared the unfortunate deceased was an older woman.  Without confirmation from a coroner, I would guess cause of death to be simply old age.  She looked like a dried out husk of a human being.  Her skin was wrinkled and her hair was splayed out on the floor in thick white strands like an angelic glow shining from behind her head.  What struck me as odd was her clothing.  I hadn't encountered many women in their 80s wearing the latest club scene fashions.

Looking around the room I could see a number of pictures of groups of young people and a few of a young couple smiling at the camera.  There was one person consistent in all of the images.  I supposed she was the victim's granddaughter or great-granddaughter.  She was attractive enough that I was almost tempted to go against my lifelong rule about not personally informing next of kin.  Almost.

I walked up to the head technician and looked at him knowingly.  "What do we have here Mickey?"

Mickey glanced my direction and opened his notebook.  "There were no signs of forced entry.  The landlord had to unlock the deadbolt and doorknob for an officer doing a wellness check requested by the resident's sister.  There are no indications of a struggle and the neighbors haven't heard anything from in here for days despite frequent guests in the past."

Mike turned the page in his notebook, glanced at the words, and looked me directly in the eyes as he recited the next set of facts.  "The coroner has come and gone.  He declared the cause of death to be heart attack due to advanced age and dehydration.  The victim has been identified as Genie McCallister.  A 23-year-old legal secretary at a firm downtown."

I blinked quickly at this last statement and looked again at the woman on the floor before me.  I would have estimated her age at no less than 70.  I honestly would have guessed at an age closer to 90.  There was no way anyone would have mistaken her for 23.  I changed my mind about the young woman that all the pictures around the room had in common.  It wasn't the resident's descendant, but the resident herself.

I reached into a deep pocket in the inside of my coat.  Fingering past several familiar shapes I grasped a smooth crystal and extracted it.  I then looked over at Mike and gave him a quick nod before stepping to the body and standing with my legs straddling over it.  I held the crystal out before me and started an ancient chant in a language that was considered dead before Latin became popular.

Mike gestured to the other technicians and started to walk back towards the hallway leading out.  "Come on boys, let's give the detective the room."

As I was left alone in the room with the deceased victim the crystal in my hands began to glow brightly and become cold in my grip.  I could feel an tingle in my spine as aetheral energies flowed through me and into the crystal, seeking out any residue that might be in the area.  As I watched figures and shapes began to rise from the crystal and take form.  They coalesced into the characters that made up the alphabet of magic itself.  While I didn't immediately recognize the words being formed of light in front of me, I could tell enough about them to determine their intended use.  It was a spell to draw the life force out of a being quickly, aging them decades in a matter of seconds.  As I couldn't see any part of the spell indicating a destination for the life force, I could only assume it was being stored somehow.

I ceased my chanting and held my pose until the crystal's glow faded away completely.  Putting it back into its pocket in my trenchcoat I exchanged it for a small tin containing a powder specially mixed for me by a friendly woman that happened to be the direct descendant of an Ancient Oracle.  Putting some of the powder in the palm of my hand I closed my eyes and pictured the letters I had just seen emerging from the crystal.  I opened my eyes and quickly looked at the powder.  Some of the silver components in it had migrated to one side of my palm.  This was the side that was facing towards the kitchen.

As I turned and moved towards the kitchen the silver in the powder shifted to point me towards a space between the small table and fridge.  The silver flecks in the powder centered themselves in my palm when I stepped behind one of the two chairs slid under the table.

I returned the powder to its tin and put it back in the deep inside pocket with the crystal.  I reached to the back pocket of my pants and withdrew a simple notepad with pen attached.  I opened it to a clean page and made a quick note of the date and address of the apartment building.

I once again closed my eyes and began a chant different than the one I spoke over Genie's body.  Instead of maintaining a flat tone, my voice rose as I came to the end of each phrase.  It could easily sound to anyone listening like I was asking a series of questions over and over.  This was amazingly accurate.  I raised one had into the air in front of me around the area the powder had indicated.  My other hand gripped the pen and held it against the page of my notebook.

My raised hand began to feel cooler and cooler as a field of snow appeared before my eyes.  A set of strange footprints led towards some barren trees nearby.  In the distance was a familiar castle built entirely of ice.  The pen in my other hand began to make a series of marks on the paper.  Nothing like the characters that the crystal generated earlier, these marks were much more organic in appearance.

After a minute I stopped my mysterious questioning and opened my eyes.  The snowy field vanished instantly and I could once again see the walls of the apartment.  My raised hand warmed to room temperature quickly and I closed my notebook before replacing it in my back pocket.

I now had the first few things I needed to figure out who had invaded Genie's apartment and taken her life force.  They had opened a portal to the Winter Realms of the Fae Kingdoms and strolled right through.  The marks I made in my notebook indicated the energy used opening the portal was from a middle level resident of the Kingdoms.  Now I only needed to compare the marks to a few records and ask a few friends form the other side of the Veil to narrow down the list of suspects.

Do you think Law and Order: Faerie Kingdoms could become a thing?