An author who has always inspired me is, Octavia E. Butler (1947-2006). Up to the point where I discovered her, I'd read a lot of the classic stories and authors, such as Arthur C Clarke and Robert Heinlein. They were the authors who were on the reading lists for the science fiction classes I took in college.
After college I found women authors in the genre. That's when I started reading Ursula LeGuin, Anne McCaffery, Vonda McIntire...and Octavia. I was excited because not only did I have a space as a woman, but as a black woman. Finally I could see myself in these stories.
These days it might seem odd that those voices weren't on my reading lists. I hadn't known that other voices existed. Now - thankfully - the doors are open for different storytellers to be represented in science fiction and its sub-genres.
A winner of the Hugo and Nebula awards, Octavia E. Butler was a recipient of a MacArthur Fellowship and a PEN Lifetime Achievement Award. She also attended the Clarion Writers Workshop for science fiction and fantasy writers.
There's so much I can say about her books, but I'll resist making this an extra-long post and share my favorites.
Bloodchild and Other Stories includes her award-winning novella, Bloodchild. It deals with a recurring theme in her work about humans who leave Earth to find refuge from unjust systems. On this particular planet the humans have had to make an arrangement with the inhabitants as a condition of being able to stay. Actually the sacrifice they make is quite startling. It left me questioning how much humans would be willing to give up for the promise of safety and security.
This comes up again in her Xenogenesis trilogy (which I'm re-reading right now) which deals with humanity after a devastating war. Aliens have allowed Earth a second chance, but there's a catch. Humans won't be able to re-populate the Earth unless they are also mated with the aliens. Yes, this does sound like a familiar plot for many science fiction romances, doesn't it? Though the trilogy isn't a romance, there are relationships - lovers, friends, parents and children - and those are at the core of the story. What is family and what does it mean to be human?
Kindred (which was mentioned in a recent profile of Dolly Parton as being one of her favorite books) is about a black woman who is inexplicably whisked back to the antebellum South to the plantation owned by one of her ancestors.
It's a powerful story that goes in a different direction than the reader expects. Especially considering that her ancestor is the one who is actually responsible for pulling her into the past. She's forced to come to terms with her connection to the ancestor and the knowledge that her actions could end up destroying her present life. There's also a beautifully illustrated graphic novel version as well.
Of course, I could go on because there are more books I could mention. One that has become more known (or perhaps mentioned more in the media due to its prescience) is her masterpiece, Parable of the Sower. I read this years ago and it blew me away.
Set in Earth's future (it was written in the 1990's and set in the 2020's) society is breaking down due to climate change, people live behind gates for safety and a president who wants to make things great again is in power. In spite of the state of this world, there is hope and the chance for a rebirth.
That's part of what has always drawn me to her work. Yes, it often deals with a destruction of societal norms, but there's also transformation and a second chance. Most of all, there's hope. But humans must move through and resolve the hard parts first. Truth, then reconciliation.
Perhaps that's why her work continues to draw readers over a decade since her passing. What she observed and shared in her work is timeless.
Late last year I decided to tackle a full blown series and
embarked upon my Badari Warriors tales, which are related to my already
existing Sectors scifi civilization of the future. I’m having fun with the
challenges of writing a series and making sure each book advances the overall
series arc as well as telling the story of an individual hero and heroine.
I
decided to have the warriors be genetically engineered soldiers created by an
alien race to battle the humans – it was my chance to ‘play’ with elements of a
fun trope. I’m a huge fan of Laurann Dohner’s New Species and Lora Leigh’s
Breeds series! But this current set of books I’m writing is my spin on the
concept.
I just released the third book, JADRIAN, and am hard at work
on the next few stories. Each book can be read as a standalone.
The blurb for JADRIAN: A BADARI WARRIORS SCIFI ROMANCE (SECTORS NEW
ALLIES SERIES BOOK 3)
Taura Dancer has been pushed to her limits by alien
torturers known as the Khagrish and is ready to die when suddenly the lab where
she’s held as a prisoner is taken down by an armed force of soldiers.
The man who rescues her from a burning cell block is Jadrian
of the Badari, a genetically engineered alien warrior with as many reasons to
hate the Khagrish as Taura has. This set of shared past experiences and the
circumstances of her rescue create an unusual bond between them.
Safe in the hidden base where Jadrian and his pack take her,
Taura struggles to regain her lost memories and overcome constant flashbacks
during which she lashes out at all who come near. Only Jadrian can recall her
from the abyss of her visions and hallucinations.
As the war against the Khagrish continues, it becomes
increasingly critical to find out who she really is and how she can help in the
fight. Until she can control her terrors and trust her own impulses, Taura’s
too afraid to pursue the promise of happiness a life with Jadrian as her mate
might offer.
When he’s captured by the dreaded enemy, will she step forward
to help save him, or will she remain a prisoner of her past?
This is the third book in a new scifi romance series and
each novel has a satisfying Happy for Now ending for the hero and heroine, not
a cliffhanger. Some overarching issues do remain unresolved in each book since
this is an ongoing series but romance always wins the day in my novels!
The excerpt:
Taura curled into the smallest ball she could make of
herself, hands over her ears as the sound of the pulse rifles in the corridor
outside whined and reverberated. Suddenly, a man stepped into the cell,
emerging from the swirling smoke like a hero in an adventure trideo. “I’m sure
I heard something,” he said over his shoulder to companions she couldn’t see.
Eyes stinging, tears coursing down her cheeks, she reached
out, tugging at his pants leg. “Help me, please.”
Shifting his weapon to leave his hands free, the soldier
crouched in front of her. His eyes glowed golden as he said, “We’ll get you
out, lady.” He picked her up in a single motion, rising to his full height, and
hastened from the cell.
She clung to him as tightly as she could while he carried
her through the smoky corridors and outside into clear air and bright sunshine.
Eyes watering, she blinked, not having been outdoors since the day she arrived
at this cursed place.
“Where did you find her?” another soldier asked her rescuer
as he continued to move rapidly away from the building. The entire structure
was alight and she shivered at the sight. But for her mysterious hero, she’d
have been a casualty and no one would ever have known.
“In the burning cell block, only one there. She’s in pretty
bad shape.” His voice was deep, his arms around her comforting.
She leaned her head against his broad chest, clutching his
arm, until a spasm of coughing shook her. “I can’t breathe.” Panic stricken as her
vision darkened, and the coughing continued without expanding her lungs, she
pushed against him. Truthfully, she didn’t think she could stand but her fight
or flight reflexes were overruling her conscious thoughts. Taura didn’t
recognize her own voice, pleading with the soldier. “Don’t let me die.”
“I’ll get you to the medic, hang on. Take small breaths and
hold them, in and then out.” He quickened his pace.
As he ran with her, dodging into cover on occasion as
weapons fired, Taura tried not to give into her overwhelming relief at being
out of the prison. Too soon to allow the tears of joy to fall. For all she
knew, these soldiers could be an even worse group to have fallen in with. The
men certainly weren’t human and their motives for rescuing her could be just as
bad as the Khagrish intentions had been. She was afraid to trust the hope trying to
take root in her mind.
The man who’d rescued her was easily seven feet tall,
amazingly fit and muscular, and almost preternaturally handsome, but definitely
not Terran descent human like her. His amber eyes were kind, even when glowing
golden, and he seemed concerned with her welfare, as evidenced by their current
race to find a medic. A good sign, but she’d learned not to take anything or
anyone at face value on this hellhole planet.
Unable to draw a deep breath despite his encouragement, she
drifted in and out of consciousness until she realized she was lying across a
row of seats on a flyer, while voices talked above her head. She reached out,
wanting to keep her rescuer close. He represented safety, she trusted him as
much as she was able to put her faith in anyone other than herself. He’d saved
her once and she was going to rely on him to continue to intervene on her
behalf.
Her fingers were engulfed in a huge hand, gently squeezed.
Her rescuer leaned close, his voice low pitched. “My friend Timtur’s a medic,
he’s going to take care of you now till we get home and you can see the human doc.”
A human physician? Were these men connected to the Sectors
after all? She had so many questions but was too debilitated to ask. Time would
tell and she was too weak to take any action until someone tried to place a medical
mask over her face. She struggled to sit up, shoving away the mask even after
catching a whiff of pure, fresh oxygen. “Don’t leave me—how can I be sure I’m
safe if you’re not here to keep watch?”
The soldier rescuer crouched to be at her eye level. Even in
her state of confused panic, she was woman enough to notice yet again how
incredibly attractive he was and how hypnotizing his eyes could be. Taura
wanted to relax into the golden glow and keep him by her side, but it wasn’t to
be.
“Battle’s not over, I
gotta get back.” He smiled. “There might be someone else who needs to be
rescued. You want me to check, right?”
“SciFi Encounters” columnist for the USA Today Happy Ever After
blog
Veronica Scott grew
up in a house with a library as its heart. Dad loved science fiction, Mom loved
ancient history and Veronica thought there needed to be more romance in
everything. When she ran out of books to read, she started writing her own
stories.
Seven time winner of the SFR Galaxy Award, as well as a
National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award, Veronica is also the proud
recipient of a NASA Exceptional Service Medal relating to her former day job,
not her romances!
She read the part of
Star Trek Crew Member in the audiobook production of Harlan Ellison’s “The City
On the Edge of Forever.”
I LOVE disaster movies - a group of people battling seemingly insurmountable odds - and I like writing science fiction stories with the elements of such films. Star Cruise: Outbreak touches on my fascination (as an author) with epidemics - how they begin with Patient Zero, and spread, how people cope, the medical forensics to find a cause and a cure....and of course being me, there's romance!
This SFR Galaxy Award winning book is ON SALE for $.99 right now!
The story:
She saved countless soldiers in the wars … but does she have the weapons to fight an outbreak?
Dr. Emily Shane, veteran of the Sector Wars, is known as “The Angel of Fantalar” for her bravery under fire as a medic. However, the doctor has her own war wounds–severe PTSD and guilt over those she failed to save.
Persuaded to fill a seemingly frivolous berth as ship’s doctor on the huge and luxurious interstellar cruise liner Nebula Zephyr, she finds the job brings unexpected perks–a luxe beach deck with water imported from Tahumaroa II, and Security Officer Jake Dilon, a fellow veteran who heats her up like a tropical sun.
However, Emily soon learns she and Jake didn’t leave all peril behind in the war. A mysterious ailment aboard the Zephyr begins to claim victim after victim … and they must race against time and space to find the cause and a cure! Trapped on a ship no spaceport will allow to dock, their efforts are complicated by a temperamental princess and a terrorist–one who won’t hesitate to take down any being in the way of his target. If anyone’s left when the disease is through with them…
The excerpt:
“We have a dead passenger,” the ship's AI said, speaking
louder as the door chimed.
So much for minor ailments. Keying the
portal to open, Emily came face-to-face with Red, in uniform, a discreet security
badge on his jacket.
“Sorry
to meet again so soon under these circumstances,” he said. “Jake sent me—”
“Yes,
the ship told me you were coming.” She let the portal close behind her and set
off at a rapid pace toward the nearest gravlift. The corridor was deserted at
this time of “night.”
“Someone died?”
Glancing
around to make sure there wasn’t anyone close, Red nodded. “Passenger Edvar
Groskin, in his cabin.” He allowed her to precede him into the gravlift. “Groskin
hadn’t been seen for a day or two, missed an appointment for dinner with some
prospective clients who reported not being able to reach him. Had the do-not-disturb
signal on, but the chief stewardess was concerned, so she asked Maeve to check.”
Red leaned closer. “Passenger privacy is of utmost concern on the CLC Line, but
there’s a point where we have to intrude.”
“You
must be positive he’s deceased, not to have called the ship’s emergency
response team.”
“Yeah,
we’re sure.” He flicked a glance at her. “Not a pretty sight.”
“No
doubt I’ve seen worse.” Emily clenched one fist where he couldn’t see, nails
biting into her palm in hopes the tiny spurt of pain would forestall a flashback
to some of the horrific scenes she had endured. Now wasn’t the time for an
incident, and echoes of the earlier nightmare lingered. “Suicide?”
“Doubtful.”
Red didn’t appear to notice her preoccupation. “Groskin was a hanger-on with the
wealthy crowd. He used to be a minor celebrity, some kind of athlete. Always had
a dozen schemes and scams going on. Upbeat guy, from what I’ve been told. He
was going to the big surfing competition on Sector Hub.”
“I
treated a surfer today. Got washed off his board and cratered on the bottom of
the beach deck sand,” she said. “Poor guy had a broken arm, scrapes and
bruises.”
“Yeah,
we’re running our own competition on the starboard side of the beach, trying to
tie into the big event.” Red shook his head. “I had beach duty yesterday. Made me
nervous watching passengers try to act like extreme athletes. Of course, Maeve
doesn’t generate the big waves.”
They’d reached the late
passenger’s cabin, where the portal was half open.
Jake
was waiting in the foyer. “Sorry to wake you, Doc. Guy’s on the floor in the
bedroom. We’re not sure what he had.”
Emily
stepped into the room. The bed was in disarray, and the passenger had obviously
been quite ill in his last hours. Clothed in synthsilk pajamas, the body was
already in the first stage of rigor mortis. Activating the sterile barrier on
her hands, she ran her scanner over the man, noting the readings, especially in
the heart and lungs. Sitting on her heels, she said, “Heart attack, probably
brought on by pneumonia, is my initial diagnosis.” She looked at Jake. “Without
an autopsy, we won’t know for sure, and I should warn you I’m not a
pathologist.”
“We’re
not set up to do autopsies anyway,” Jake said. “The unpleasant job’ll be for
the authorities at the next port of call. I need you to sign the provisional
death certificate and state there was no crime involved as far as we know at
this time. Different regulations kick in if there’s any evidence of foul play.”
Emily
raised her eyebrows and checked the body again. “Nothing to indicate any kind
of crime.” She leaned closer. “Odd.” Pointing at the corpse’s upper chest,
revealed by the gaping shirt, she said, “See those purple splotches?”
“Like
spider bites.” Jake shifted position to get a better view. “Something to worry
about?”
I thought
I'd share another excerpt from my latest scifi romance release, Two Against the Stars.
Here's
the story:
Empathic
priestess Carialle has escaped the evil Amarotu Combine, but she’s hardly out
of danger. Not when she risks everything to rescue a drugged man from a crooked
veterans’ clinic. By lulling the clinic staff to sleep, she reveals her powers.
And once again, criminals are after her and her rescuer.
Marcus
Valerian, a wounded Special Forces veteran, never expected to have his life
threatened by the clinic that’s supposed to help ex-soldiers like him. But when
he wakes from a drugged state to find a lovely woman urging him to run–he does.
In his family’s remote fishing cabin, he suffers the agony of withdrawal,
soothed only by her powers.
In
their idyllic hideaway, the two also discover a nova-hot attraction flaring.
But can they stay alive long enough for it to become more? Not if the Combine
has anything to say–they are not giving up until Marcus is dead and Carialle is
their weapon.
The
excerpt – empath Carialle uses her power to ingratiate herself to the landlady:
As her landlady gently quizzed her about what she needed and
made suggestions, Carialle used her power to peer more deeply into the woman’s
aura. The colors indicated Mrs. Galaganos liked to keep her fingers on
everything going on in the neighborhood. She had a deep thirst for knowledge as
a means of control of her environment. Living in a place like this, Carialle
could see why the woman wanted to keep up with the business of everyone in her
orbit. Knowledge was power in certain situations. She wondered if Mrs. Galaganos
planned to pump her for gossip from the clinic. If she gets too nosy about me, I’ll have to be on the move.
“You certainly maintain the garden in great shape,” she
said, trying to change the subject.
Pride evident on her face, Mrs. Galaganos surveyed her small
domain. “Yes, all but the biggest tree. I’ll be devastated if anything happens
to it but the leaves have been dropping for ten days now and this isn’t the leaf-casting
season. I gave it extra water.”
Impatient as she was to be off about her own errands,
Carialle felt a compulsion to react to the concern about the possibly ailing
tree. Tulavarrans and nature worked hand
in hand on her planet and a priestess was never to ignore the needs of the
differently-sentient. “Additional irrigation isn’t always the best tactic,” she
said, walking toward the tree in question. “Let me take a look.”
Mrs Galaganos trailed behind her. The pet yawned, rolled over in its patch of
sun, and ignored them.
The tree had a beautiful shape, with a swirling trunk rising
twenty feet in the air, and graceful branches currently sporting rather patchy
clumps of leaves. The older leaves were
a glossy deep green but the newer ones were shriveled, mottled with red and
brown. Carialle stepped across the ornamental barrier of white shells and rested
her hand on the tree, reaching for the sentient with her power. A carving to
the left caught her eye. “What’s this?”
“My late husband planted this tree when we moved in here,
all those years ago.” Mrs. Galaganos sighed. “He was such a romantic—he carved
our names into the trunk, with a heart, in honor of our love. Said it
represented our promise to each other. This tree is my last link to him—he died
a year ago. I’ll be devastated if it dies too. I feel close to him when I’m out
here gardening in the shade of the tree.” Her voice quavered and Carialle
feared the elderly lady was on the verge of tears.
She peered more closely at the inscription and could barely
make out two names and several slashes resembling a date. The heart shape was
distorted by the tree’s growth pattern.
“It’s lovely,” she said, repressing a shudder at the idea of defacing
the living wood in this fashion. The carving was old and clearly not the cause
of the tree’s current health problem.
“Bugs. Living deep within the trunk, feasting on the rising sap.”
“How—how can you tell?”
“I know a lot about plants. I’ve studied them.” Carialle
improvised. The tree was attempting to tell her what course of action might
help it fight off the infestation. She sent the entity a comforting thought and
then used her power to push the
insects.
Mrs. Galaganos screeched and retreated as a flood of tiny
black and white insects came pouring from the ground between the tree’s gnarled
roots, and out of every knothole. “I’ll get the watering robo and drown them!”
She hobbled to take action, as the pet arrived to growl and make threatening
noises at the invaders. His elderly mistress washed the horde off the sidewalk
and into a drain, muttering imprecations against them and obviously taking
great joy in defeating the hitherto unseen enemy. Carialle bit her lip hard to
repress her urge to grin at the landlady’s enthusiasm.
She stepped away from the tree, hopping across the puddles
and rivulets left behind on the sidewalk by Mrs. Galaganos’s flood. “I believe if you sprinkle a spice which possesses
a heavy concentration of capsaicin or a similar substance, around the roots
once a week, work it into the ground with a trowel and then water, the tree
will remain insect-free and should recover. Follow the procedure for four
weeks.”
“It looks better already.”
Carialle pivoted on her heel to survey the tree. The leaves
did seem healthier and the branches were less droopy.
“How—how did you do that?” Mrs. Galaganos was staring at
her.
Hastily Carialle sent a thread of her power to calm the old
woman, and to help her believe the lie she was about to utter. “I heard them
moving and chirping under the bark and so I thumped hard on the tree. I guess I
startled a bunch of them and the others followed, like larger creatures
stampeding. You took care of the problem then.”
Mrs. Galaganos took a deep breath and patted the robo by her
side. “I certainly did.”
With reluctance Carialle left an outsized feeling of
gratitude for her efforts in her landlady’s mind. The woman made it her
business to know everyone and everything in the district apparently and
Carialle might need a favor or significant help at some point. Always good to
have a kernel of obligation already planted. “I’ve got to be going now. I’m
running out of time before I have to be at work so I must get my errands done.”
“See you later, dearie.”
She waved and left the courtyard, heading for the
marketplace. She’d probably gone overboard with her assistance to the tree, but
it was hard to tamp down her power once she was engaged in a task actually
proper and in line with her beliefs. At the same time, leaving Mrs. Galaganos
feeling so indebted to her made her feel queasy. Uncomfortably close to the
type of coercion the Combine had forced her to do.
Do you like action and adventure? Time travel? A post-apocalyptic future? A kick-ass heroine? A dark, moody hero? Scorching romance? Blood-thirsty monsters? An evil corporation?
X-TROLLER
Sci-Fi, Futuristic, Post-Apocalyptic, Paranormal, Time Travel
Romance by Linda Mooney
Word Count: 62.9K
$3.99 e / $9.99 p / $19.95 a
Also available as an Audio Book! Narrated by Kay Webster Length: 6 hrs, 45 min Hear a Sample. Emotionally scarred
and physically weary, Dwan is ordered to go forty-seven years into the past
in a last ditch effort to find the one man who can help her
fight the monsters created decades ago by a company called
Lambruchet. Monsters that have since devastated mankind and the
world. Eli
Voight has been battling the Lambruchet demons ever since the
company had his father killed. As the first Troller, he’s made
it his duty to bring down the creatures and find a way to
permanently stop them. He’s
skeptical of Dwan's claim that she’s from the future.But her skill is undeniable, and her presence becomes an
all-consuming passion for the man who had pushed aside any
thought of a personal life in his quest to drive the demons to
extinction. Dwan
never expected to fall and fall hard for the emotionally
unapproachable soldier. Worse, she knew what kind of death lay
ahead for Eli, which meant there could never be a future for
them. Together,
they must fight to take out the monstrosities, or else Earth as
it is will cease to exist. And the Earth that could be, Dwan’s
world, will only hold a future of horror and hopelessness. Warning: Contains living
nightmares, impromptu dentistry, great beef stew
(with real meat), screwed
DNA, deadly broom handles, a shave and a
haircut, coded writing, and two people fighting against a
future that gives mankind only two more decades to exist. Excerpt and buy links.
Veronica: Since this book is on sale right now for $.99, I thought I'd dust off this ARCHIVE post from a few years ago and share an excerpt!
The Story:
An attempted assassination left Princess Shalira blind as a child and, now that she’s of marriageable age, her prospects are not good because of her disability. She’s resigned herself to an arranged marriage rather than face life under the thumb of her cold stepmother. But then she meets Mike Varone, a Sectors Special Forces officer sent to Mahjundar by the intergalactic government to retrieve a ship lost in her planet’s mountains. After Mike saves Shalira from another assassination attempt, she arranges for him to escort her across the planet to her future husband. She’s already falling hard for the deadly offworlder and knows she should deny herself the temptation he represents, but taking Mike along to protect her is the only way she’ll live long enough to escape her ruthless stepmother.
But what should have been an easy trek through Mahjundar’s peaceful lands swiftly turns into an ambush with danger around every turn. Shalira’s marriage begins to seem less like an arranged union and more like yet another planned assassination. The more they work together to survive, the harder it becomes to stop themselves from falling in love. Caught in a race against time, can they escape the hostile forces hunting them, and make it off the planet? In this scene, Shalira and Mike have to obtain the key to her mother's tomb so they've traveled to a half ruined temple to perform the ritual:
To Mike’s right, two snakes slithered away
through cracks in the wall. He’d been warned about
the highly venomous reptiles in the briefing before landing on Mahjundar. Since
the briefing he’d received said a bite was invariably fatal in mere minutes, Mike
was happy to see the creatures were nonaggressive today. It was anybody's guess
how well the generic antivenom shots in Johnny’s medkit would work.
Chittering in protest at being disturbed,
a flock of gray birds circled the room in a mad whirl of wings right below the
ceiling before flying out a central skylight. When the room was still, Mike made
a rapid survey. The walls had at one time been painted a bright white, but were
now grimed over, with peeling plaster.
Ten mystical symbols had been painted at
intervals on each wall, at what would be shoulder height for Mahjundans. The
red, green, turquoise and yellow drawings had undoubtedly been blindingly
bright at one time, but were now faded into near obscurity from sheer age. Mike
found his vision blurred if he tried to stare at any one of the symbols for
longer than a moment.
In the center of the room was a raised
dais, edged in bright turquoise tile, supporting a waist-high, square block of dull
red stone. The same ten symbols had been painstakingly etched into the altar’s
sides, highlighted at one time with yellow, bits of which could be seen in the
deep grooves of the carving.
Shalira stepped forward, going up onto the
dais, drawing Mike with her. She was holding his hand so tightly he couldn't
have stayed behind without violently pulling free. But I want to stand here with her, support her.
Leaning over, Mike realized the top of the
red stone was polished enough for him to see his reflection in the surface. “No
dust?” How is that possible?
The top had two perfectly shaped oval
indentations, each about a yard long and half a yard wide at the center. Although
several messy nests were in the rotunda directly above, there were no bird
droppings anywhere on the stone. Flicking the safety before holstering his gun,
Mike reached out to touch the gleaming surface.
“What the hell?” His fingers stopped six inches
above the block, as if he’d tried to press his hand through glass. Cursing, he
yanked his hand away. His skin, reddened where it had met the invisible
obstacle, felt if it had been scorched by open flame.
“Careful,” Shalira said. “The Altar of the
Ten Gods deals harshly with the uninitiated.”
“I'll take your word for it. I meant no
disrespect.” He blew on his fingers. “How old is this place? Why doesn't your
father do something about fixing it up?”
“The temple dates to the earliest beginnings
of civilization on Mahjundar. There used to be hundreds of these temples
scattered throughout the empire. But the worship of the Ten Gods is fading,
except perhaps in the most rural areas.” Shalira frowned. “Empress Maralika
doesn’t believe in their power, preferring new temples, alternate beliefs.”
Mike considered the fading paint. “So she
doesn't exactly encourage your father to spend money on the old gods?”
Shalira pursed her lips. “I was sure I
heard my father approve funds for this work.”
Mike remembered what he’d been told in his
briefing about the Empress Maralika's accounts in the big, secretive banks on
New Switzerland. I bet I know where the
authorized funds ended up.
Vreely was tapping his booted foot
impatiently on the bottom step. “We’re wasting time. Get the key, Your Highness,
and let us get on with the journey.”
“What do you need to do?” asked Mike,
pivoting her to face him.
She
faltered, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. “I—I'm not totally sure. I
observed the ceremony performed in reverse at my great-uncle's funeral, when my
father commended the key for his tomb to the keeping of the Ten.”
Of
course, she hadn't been blind then. This whole errand must be stirring up
powerful memories for her—better get it over with as fast as possible. Mike glanced at the impatient Mahjundan
officer. Maybe Vreely’s right about some
things.
“We must make an offering.” The princess
freed her hand from Mike's. “Could you open this pouch for me and set the items
in my hands?” Fumbling at her belt, she detached a small red leather purse,
which she held out.
Unknotting the rawhide strip at the neck
of the purse, he removed ten different things loosely packed inside, carefully
depositing them in Shalira's cupped hands. There was an iridescent feather from
some rare bird, a sachet of rich perfume, an exquisite jade carving of a
deer-like creature, ten tiny golden bells strung on a fine chain, and other
miniature treasures he’d no time to examine. One for each god, I suppose.
“This is the last item.” He laid an
enameled brooch encrusted with baroque pearls on top of the pile in her hands
and tucked the small purse away in a pocket.
Tightening her fingers around the precious
hoard, Shalira raised her arms. Bathed in sunlight streaming from the skylights,
she chanted in a variation of the Mahjundan language that his hypnotraining hadn’t
included. Her voice was lyrical, mesmerizing in the way the rhythm rose and fell.
Realizing he was dizzy, Mike blinked hard, reaching to steady himself against
the red block.
Within the chamber, a humming had begun, like
an accompaniment to the chanting, but in a much deeper tonal range. The strange
sound vibrated through his spine and behind his ears in an unpleasant way. As
if a breeze had sprung up inside the room, the dust and debris on the floor
shifted hither and yon, moved into small piles. It was as if he and Shalira
were cut off from the others, isolated on the island of the dais by sound and a
wall of wind. Now the princess lowered her offering toward the block’s surface.
Mike reached out, guiding her hands toward the closer of the two oval
depressions. Electricity tingled through his nerves, blue fire danced in the
air and he couldn’t release her fingers. His hands supported hers.
This time there was no invisible shield to
prevent him from touching the stone. Contact with the altar hit Mike like ice
water. Shivering, he felt Shalira trembling violently next to him, but the
princess continued her ritual with no break in the song, although her voice
grew wobbly. At last, their hands separated, and he jerked his fingers back.
Shalira held one final, lingering note, suddenly opening her cupped hands.
The gifts she offered drifted the last few
inches into the stone oval. One by one, as if falling through thick glue, the
items touched the rock and disappeared in showers of red, yellow and turquoise
sparks.
Shalira fell silent, licking her lips and
lowering her head. She took a step backward. Hastily, Mike reached out to
steady her and prevent her from toppling off the edge of the dais. Head against
his chest, she leaned into him. “Is the offering accepted?” Her whisper was so
thready he could barely hear the words. “Is there a key in the other bowl?”
This was me last year, recording my bit part as a Star Trek Crew Member in a special audiobook. I don't narrate my own!
Since June was officially Audiobook Month and I had a new release, I thought I'd post the soundcloud sample here today. I'll also give away a free Audible.com download credit for the book to THREE randomly selected commenters on this post - the question is: Where do you prefer to listen to audiobooks and why? Or if you've never tried an audiobook, what's keeping you from trying them?
I'll announce the THREE winners on our Monday Here Be News feature on this blog and on our Facebook page.
Here's the story for Star Cruise:Outbreak:
She saved countless soldiers in the wars … but does she have the weapons to fight an outbreak?
Dr. Emily Shane, veteran of the Sector Wars, is known as “The Angel of Fantalar” for her bravery under fire as a medic. However, the doctor has her own war wounds–severe PTSD and guilt over those she failed to save.
Persuaded to fill a seemingly frivolous berth as ship’s doctor on the huge and luxurious interstellar cruise liner Nebula Zephyr, she finds the job brings unexpected perks–a luxe beach deck with water imported from Tahumaroa II, and Security Officer Jake Dilon, a fellow veteran who heats her up like a tropical sun.
However, Emily soon learns she and Jake didn’t leave all peril behind in the war. A mysterious ailment aboard the Zephyr begins to claim victim after victim … and they must race against time and space to find the cause and a cure! Trapped on a ship no spaceport will allow to dock, their efforts are complicated by a temperamental princess and a terrorist–one who won’t hesitate to take down any being in the way of his target. If anyone’s left when the disease is through with them…
The book is a double SFR Galaxy Award Winner by the way!
To go with one of our suggested themes for June, which is weddings, here's the opening scene of Escape From Zulaire, where the heroine has been pressed into duty as a substitute bridesmaid. This book, which won both an SFR Galaxy Award and a National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award, is currently FREE at all ebook sellers. The 'buy links' are after the excerpt.
The story:
Andi Markriss hasn’t exactly enjoyed being the houseguest of the planetary high-lord, but her company sent her to represent them at a political wedding. When hotshot Sectors Special Forces Captain Tom Deverane barges in on the night of the biggest social event of the summer, Andi isn’t about to offend her high-ranking host on Deverane’s say-so—no matter how sexy he is, or how much he believes they need to leave now.
Deverane was thinking about how to spend his retirement bonus when HQ assigned him one last mission: rescue a civilian woman stranded on a planet on the verge of civil war. Someone has pulled some serious strings to get her plucked out of the hot zone. Deverane’s never met anyone so hard-headed—or so appealing. Suddenly his mission to protect this one woman has become more than just mere orders.
That mission proves more dangerous than he expected when rebel fighters attack the village and raze it to the ground. Deverane escapes with Andi, and on their hazardous journey through the wilderness, Andi finds herself fighting her uncomfortable attraction to the gallant and courageous captain. But Deverane’s not the type to settle down, and running for one’s life doesn’t leave much time to explore a romance.
Then Andi is captured by the rebel fighters, but Deverane has discovered that Zulaire’s so-called civil war is part of a terrifying alien race’s attempt to subjugate the entire Sector. If he pushes on to the capitol Andi will die. Deverane must decide whether to save the woman he loves, or sacrifice her to save Zulaire.
The excerpt:
This is the most absurd thing I’ve ever done
as assistant planetary agent for Loxton Galactic Trading—standing in as a
bridesmaid in a borrowed puce dress because some other girl failed to show up. Andi
Markriss sighed, feeling the garment binding too tight across her chest. I didn’t mind representing the company as a
guest, but this is way outside the line of duty.
Early afternoon on
Zulaire was too warm for an outdoor ceremony, but the Planetary High Lord’s
spoiled daughter Lysanda didn’t care to be ready any earlier in the day. Her
guests’ comfort wasn’t a consideration.
An inch at a time,
Andi shifted from her assigned spot into the shade cast by the towering stone
pillars. How did I get talked into this?
Oh, yes, Lysanda wept, and her mother made vague threats about her husband
reviewing our shipping contracts. As the musicians played, Andi turned,
watching Lysanda pace toward the dais in time to the music, smiling for her
groom-to-be.
The local priest took a deep breath and
launched into a lengthy blessing, invoking the deity and relating the history
of the planet’s three Clans—Obati, Shenti and Naranti. Andi chanted along with
him under her breath. Overlords, Second Class
and Neutrals, as her boss had told her when she’d arrived on Zulaire six
years ago. Easy to keep them straight that way, he’d said, but don’t ever slip
and use the nicknames out loud.
“This
young pair from two of the highest families will cement our peace,” the priest
proclaimed, lowering his arms and beaming at Princess Lysanda and her intended.
“Their offspring will embody the union of Obati and Shenti blood.”
Applause
from the crowd, led by the bride’s mother, made the officiant blush. As he
bowed, Lysanda blew her mother a kiss.
That ovation will spur him to more oratory
for sure. Andi smothered a sigh, wiggling her aching toes, held too tight
in the borrowed silver sandals. I thought
the last three weeks of engagement parties, picnics and games out here in the
summer compound were endless, but this ceremony tops them all.
“The
bride and groom will now light the symbolic candles.” The priest led the pair
to the side altar, where a trio of candles—blue, green and ivory—had been set
into massive golden holders. Representing the three Clans, the candle ritual
reinforced the political symbolism of this ceremony. Everything symbolic on
Zulaire came in threes, Andi thought, watching the couple light each candle in
turn.
Sneezing
violently as the slight afternoon breeze carried colorful but pungent smoke
from the burning tapers in her direction, she earned herself a glare and a
hissed “Shh!” from the woman standing next to her. After taking a deep,
cleansing breath of the fragrant bouquet she’d been clutching, Andi gave the
other attendant a faint smile.
Lysanda
had argued long and hard with her mother earlier about allowing Andi to
substitute for the unaccountably missing handmaiden. Only the fact that without
Andi to partner him, an important groomsman would be omitted from the ceremony
swayed the decision. Good for Loxton’s
business networking that I’m here. The Planetary Lord’s family owes me personally
now for preserving the precious symmetry of Lysanda’s wedding party, at the
cost of my aching feet. With a flash of amusement at the ludicrous
situation, Andi smiled. Lucky for the
princess, I accepted the invitation on behalf of Loxton, not my portly boss.
Tuning
out the priest’s new recitation of more sacred writings, since the man had a
nasal voice and a tendency to repeat himself, Andi studied the intricate
carvings in the shiny black stone wall of the pavilion across from her, details
brought to clarity by the slanting sun’s rays.
The
bas-relief depicted a stylized sun above a giant, multitrunked malagoy tree—each
trunk symbolizing one of the three Zulairian tribes—Obati and Shenti locked in
an eternal struggle to rule the planet, jockeying back and forth for thousands
of years of bloody history. All the while the Naranti stayed neutral, filling a
perpetual peacemakers’ role, as their god, Sanenre, had legendarily decreed.
Symbolic of their Clan’s allotted role in the planet’s history, the Naranti
trunk was at the center of the tree, supporting the other two.
A
skillfully carved herd of three-horned urabu grazed beneath the sheltering arms
of the malagoy, the alpha buck depicted
in a watchful stance, stone face staring at the occupants of the dais. The image of these legendary
creatures, with their sweeping triple horns, was found everywhere on Zulaire,
even on the Planetary Lord’s seal. Beloved symbol of the god Sanenre, legendary
bearers of good fortune and blessings, the gazellelike animals were extinct now,
of course, hunted for the ivory of their sweeping horns.
Lysanda
and her betrothed were repeating vows after the priest.
Apparently as
bored as Andi was, the youngest attendant at the ceremony, just a toddler
really, came across the platform with unsteady steps, reaching for Andi, her
favorite playmate of the last few weeks. Missing her nieces and nephews, who
lived far away in her own home Sector of the galaxy, Andi had been happy to
skip a few adult entertainments to amuse the young ones of the house during her
stay.
After a quick hug,
the little girl plunked herself at Andi’s feet, leaning against her legs. Pulling
the flower garland from her glossy curls, she picked the petals off the
blossoms while humming the processional tune off-key. The priest began to wrap
up, raising his voice to override the toddler’s song. Andi stared out over the
crowd.
Quite a few empty chairs. A surprising number
of high-ranking Obati guests had failed to arrive, which had driven the bride’s
mother into an angry tirade shortly before the ceremony. The failure of the
missing bridesmaid and her family to show up had created another firestorm.
Lady Tonkiln had a long memory for social slights.
It’s been an odd summer, that’s for sure.
Andi would be glad to see fall arrive, when business always picked up and she
could get back to the office, dive into the complexities of intergalactic
trading and leave the socializing to others. And decide if it’s time to leave Zulaire for another assignment.Six years is too long to stay on one planet,
if I want my next promotion. I wish I didn’t love it here so much.
Of course, no one
had expected Planetary Lord Tonkiln to leave the important business of ruling
Zulaire for his daughter’s handfasting. He’d be at the formal wedding later in
the year, held in the massive shrine at the capital, to accept the Shenti
groom’s petition for marriage to Lysanda. His oldest son, Gul, had been
scheduled to stand in for the ruler today, but in typical Gul fashion, he
hadn’t shown up.
His careless
attitude to responsibilities had been one of the reasons Andi had never let
their casual, off-and-on-again affair become more serious. Charming as he was,
Gul was unreliable.
Glancing along the
fringes of the crowd where the invited Shenti guests were sitting, she saw
everyone attentive, focusing on the glowing bride and handsome groom.
The Naranti
servants clustered at the rear of the outdoor pavilion looked bored. I suppose they just want to get this over
with so they can clean up.
Well, me, too. I want to get out of this
dress. What a wretched color Lysanda picked! Andi sighed. I’m glad I can wear my own clothing tonight
at the reception, when I present the Loxton corporate bride gift.
This was a coolly
negotiated union of the ruling Obati family and an influential Shenti house to
further cement everyone’s power. Lysanda
and her groom are doing an excellent job of portraying lovebirds for the crowd.
Both loving the spotlight.How fortunate he can sing—the family didn’t
have to hire someone to carry the tune for him. Andi blinked, turning her
full attention back to the couple as her own most favorite moment of the handfasting
ceremony arrived—the giving of the bridal shawl. In the old days, she knew,
these shawls had been hand-woven, selected by the groom with much care to
symbolically enfold his chosen one in his love. Lysanda’s shawl followed
current fashion in the capital – machine-made, trimmed with three kinds of
lace, the two family crests outlined in semiprecious gems—all about the show,
not the emotion. Two attendants carried the unfolded shawl to the groom,
displaying the embroidery and jewels for the guests to admire.
Still, it was the most romantic aspect of this
particular ceremony. Andi suppressed a somewhat wistful mental picture of an
unknown man wrapping her in one of the traditional, simple shawls.She took another deep breath of the
flowers’ perfume. What is with me today,
all this nostalgia for the dreams I had as a kid? Romance, a husband, children…
Traveling around the Sectors doing business for Loxton is the wrong career if I
want to settle down. I already made that decision, no looking back, no regrets.
Maybe after I make Sector vice president, I’ll decide on a different course.
No telling how old she’d be by then.
Veronica Scott gathered 3 of her previously published scifi romance
stories which were in out of print anthologies and put them in one volume:
Welcome
to the Sectors, the interstellar civilization where my science fiction
adventures take place!
Star Cruise: Stowaway: A novella of 22K
words, previously in the ‘Pets In Space’ anthology.
Cargo
Master Owen Embersson is shocked when theNebula Zephyr’sship’s cat and her alien sidekick,
Midorri, alert him to the presence of a stowaway. He has no idea of the
dangerous complications to come nor does he anticipate falling hard for the
woman whose life he now holds in his hands. Life aboard theNebula
Zephyrhas
just become more interesting – and deadly.
Star Cruise: Rescue: A short story of 9K words,
previously in the ‘Romancing the Stars’ anthology.
When
a shore leave excursion goes terribly wrong for Mira Gage, a member of theNebula
Zephyr’screw,
Security Officer Clint Miltan races the clock to find her before the ship
leaves orbit and abandons Mira to her fate. Clint’s got more than a
professional interest in Mira, but will he be able to save her from the aliens
holding her prisoner?
The Golden Token:A short story of 13K words, previously in
the limited edition ‘Dealer’s Choice’ paperback anthology handed out at the
2016 RT Booklovers Convention Interstellar Bar & Grille event.
Sectors
Special Forces operator Charlie McBrire had a few days to kill on a layover at
Space Station 47. He never expected to find himself in the middle of a miners’
rebellion, fighting to save the life of a casino dancer he just met but can’t
imagine living without.
