Featured Posts (3487)

Sort by

The Horizon Venture - Chapter Four

4
Teacher had been in the electric chair for two minutes; he could smell his own flesh burning. His synapses overflowed and his muscles jerked involuntarily. . The whiplash effect had already broken six of the restraints placed on him, two of which had been made of metal. The two head restraints had gone first, and the violent thrashings of Teacher's head were in danger of breaking his neck. An unsavoury mix of phlegm and blood from ruptured capillaries made its way from his nose to his lungs, which had stopped inflating a minute ago. His heart had also resigned, with a violent contraction that had burst blood vessels all over his body. His ears were bleeding, his hair visibly smoking, and the remaining restraints were so hot that they had begun to burn into his flesh. Three minutes. He could feel his blood bubbling. Now only arm and leg restraints remained. With each volt, his torso was thrown upwards out of the chair, back arched, promising him freedom. Promising........promising...........
And denying. Four minutes in the electric chair. Brilliant white sparks flew across the room, and lights all around the prison dimmed. Fuses burned out, backup generators kicked in. Still Teacher's body writhed. The smell of his burning body began to permeate the control room, where technicians stared in disbelief, or covered their eyes from the glare, or retched violently. Five minutes. Teacher no longer felt any pain. As welcome as the sensation was, he knew it ultimately wasn’t good . But for a moment, he succumbed. He stopped jumping, relaxed, let himself be free. His eyes closed, his mind drifted...............

“Cut the power! Switch it off!” shouted one of the technicians in the control room.
“Fuck him. Let him fry,” said Cleyff, without lifting his eyes from his newspaper.
“No, he's right,” warned another technician. “We’ve got to shut down before-”
There was a large bang, and then darkness. The prison power system had shut down.
After four minutes of panic and profanity, the backup generators kicked in, the lights came back on. As the smoke cleared in the execution chamber, Cleyff found himself staring at an empty electric chair, which was on fire, with all its restraints broken.
Hossam Mustafa Cleyff now sensed he was living on borrowed time. As a clone, he had no doubts as to how expendable he was. If clones failed, or broke, their masters simply went and got a replacement. And knowing Kane, he probably had three or four lined up already. As a Secretary of State Cleyff had had more autonomy than most. Still, his remit was little more than to slowly leach information and resources away from the Menland executive, and transfer these assets to Kane. But in intercepting diplomatic transmissions, conducting espionage insertions, plotting assassinations, black-ops missions, he had begun to crystallise power for himself; and he had enjoyed developing newer and more varied ways to progress towards his manumission. This time, in his creativity, he was sure he had overstepped the mark.
“Sonofabitch-”said a technician. “-There’s gonna be another jailbreak! Call the guards! Call the guards!”
“Someone get in there and kill that son of a bitch.” said Cleyff, but he could hear the fear in his voice overriding his power of command. “You go in there and kill him. He's probably one 'a your pet psychos anyway-”was the technician’s reply.
Cleyff poked handgun into the execution chamber and began firing indiscriminately into the room. For his efforts, a single bullet found its way into Black Knight's right shoulder. The reaction was less of a scream of pain, more of a battle cry. Cleyff watched in astonishment as the the man he had sent to the electric chair now ripped that same chair from its floor supports and threw it through the window of the control room. One technician was quick enough to move out of the way, but as the chair burst through the plexiglass, it threw the other technician backwards and pinned him to the floor by his head, crushing his skull. He was out of bullets, and Black Knight was still standing. Six armed guards came through the doorway, which Cleyff took as his cue to leave. He scrambled through the hole in the broken window ; leaving the guards to suppress or destroy Black Knight as they saw fit. But thirty seconds later and Teacher had killed the last of the six; he armed himself with a selection of their weapons, and made his way into the maze of corridors in the prison. Somewhere within himself, Cleyff found time for jealousy; for a moment, he wished he'd been made as lethal as Black Knight or Bianco.

A turbolift at the end of the corridor. Ejecting the spent cartridges in his handguns, Teacher stepped out of the shadows and towards the lift. There was a ping, and the lift doors began to open.
Teacher dropped to the floor and slid along the corridor on his back, inserting a fifteen round magazine into one gun even as the lift doors began to inch apart. He identified the men and women in the lift as guards as he loaded his other gun and rolled onto his front. As the lift doors slid two inches apart, he could hear the release of safety catches on rifles. He was going to kill all these people. Four inches apart. Teacher began firing. Eight inches. Three guards were already dead, three more were waiting for the lift to open, one had realised something was not right. Sixteen inches. Those guards still alive were suddenly aware of someone sliding towards the lift, firing at them. Teacher had already got off twenty rounds. Two feet. The only guard still alive started firing back. Four feet. The doors were now fully open, and everyone in the lift was dead.
Teacher clambered over the dead bodies and got into the lift, which had already been called. “GROUND-FLOOR-ARMOURY.” It forewarned. The doors slid shut, and the lift began to descend toward the weapons store on the ground floor. Teacher assessed his situation. Seven dead guards........ Seven assault rifles............... maybe a dozen handguns...............a half dozen hand grenades, a couple of clips, cellular phone........binocula-
The lift touched down on the ground floor. Bullets were ripping into the lift doors before they had opened. Teacher sensed that less than ten armed men were emptying their handguns into the lift doors , together. They were not aiming their shots. Just as they began to reload, the doors hobbled open. Teacher saw the guards in the armoury look in horror at their dead comrades in the lift. Even as accusations and counter-accusations flew across the armoury, Teacher erupted from the pile of dead security guards, liberally tossing grenades into the armoury and bagging a few more guards before sending the lift back upstairs and returning to his cocoon of dead bodies. The explosions rocked the lift and fire spat through the bullet holes in the lift doors as if from miniature flamethrowers, setting the bodies of the dead guards aflame. Smoke. Fire. Oppressive heat. Burning bodies. As the turbolift rocked its way to the top of the prison, Teacher reflected; this seemed all too familiar.

~~~~~~~~~

“There’s a high risk job. Will you accept?” the Clone Security Operative asked Bianco via holoscreen
“They’re all high risk”. Bianco informed her. “What’s the fee?”
“Thirty million Merits”
Bianco froze for a moment. Ten million was enough to secure manumission, citizenship, land, and then retire. He’d done enough jobs on this planet to know that not even the Menland government had that kind of money to throw around.
The Operative pressed on, interrupting his pause for concern. “The first part has to be completed in the next ninety minutes. The first five million are available now, with the remainder being sent when the client is satisfied that you’ve done a clean job”.
His every instinct screamed at him not to take the job. He ignored them all. “Here’s the account. Send the job” He opened up another holoscreen with the job details, and quickly clenched his teeth to hide the shock of revelation. She’d just instructed him to kill Black Knight, a soldier he’d served alongside for longer than she’d been gestated.

Served. What had they served? It hadn't been their war. It wasn't even their planet. He had been programmed to destroy the Xienom. They had never been given cause to question why they were fighting these crustacean-men, or what they were supposed to be defending. They simply received the signal, that excruciating vision, projected over and over until and unless the mission was complete. Then, and only then, could they return to stasis, receive the comfort of sedation.
It was strange seeing the look in Black Knight’s eyes on a holoscreen. Is that how he had looked? As if he’d suddenly been wakened from a dream? Bianco still couldn’t remember his own arrival on this planet, and he had struggled for months to come to terms with being anywhere other than Earth’s solar system, because to his mind such things had not been possible.
But now he knew only too well the sensation of awakening from a dream, from a nightmare, from both. He remembered coming to, pinned under a mound of jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff , half submerged in an ice-cold stream, his wounds being kept open by vengi rats feasting on the marrow in his bones. Presumed to be a mere clone, he had been left for dead. Insignificant collateral damage. In the strangest of circumstances, his involvement in the Colonial Wars came to an end. And when he had managed to free himself from under his rocky headstone, he found his mind could once again think for itself. And his body had begun to heal itself, which was something he recalled seeing no other soldier's body do.

Except Black Knight. Whom he had just given himself eighty eight minutes to kill.
He opened another screen to reveal the identities of his two other targets; Dr Karl Salum, Kane’s chief scientist, and Hossam Mustafa Cleyff. Secretary of State for Defence for the Republic of Menland
Salum. He gladly received the directions and access codes to Dr. Salum’s laboratory as he stepped into his pilot gear, strapped an ion jet to his back, and put his helmet on. The nanowave transmission system that turned them all into zombies, the thousands of injections and transfusions and surgeries to turn them into indestructible killing machines; they had all been Salum’s design. He would enjoy wiping the doctor’s blood from his sword. But first he would find out everything the doctor knew.
He knew Salum would have answers. He was sure Black Knight was just another failed Salum experiment.
Maybe he was, too.
Read more…

Entered a contest!

Recent Amazonstudios screenplay contest.
I'd like to make the panel take notice so if you guys can at least go on... Maybe download & read the script go to the site it's free! to sign on and only takes a minute then go read my work... become a follower. this is also a popularity contest so if the judges see activity it can only help. Need more followers and mabe a few reviews

Here's the add:


One of the other projects I've undertaken is the retooling of an original Screenpay called VINTAGE VAMP... Let's just call it my intense psychological thriller in the vain of Twin Peaks meets Hitchcock.
Well with the completion of the screenplay I've decided to enter the Screenplay into the freshly announced Amazon Studio contest. I'm hoping that you guys will go and read the script tell a few friends and comment giving the panel of Judges something to think about. Here's the link to the Contest: http://studios.amazon.com/scripts/339?ref=email

Read more…


Wowio is a book site which features E-books in a pdf format that can be downloaded
to your computer. My graphic novel " Little Miss Strange" is now available as an e-book
which can be read on your computer, ipad, iphone and other electronic devices.

Here's the link for you to check it out... For a $1.99, you can't go wrong.


http://wowio.com/users/product.asp?BookId=226907




Little Miss Strange was originally printed by Millennium Publishing inthe late 1990's
as a B&W 32 page comic. Here is the story as a fulland complete graphic novel,
expanding on the mythos of the characterand her world.

She's a black alien sorceress who is also a time traveler.


If you prefer a printed version go to amazon.com or barnes and nobles.com.

I hope that you will enjoy this book.








Read more…

A new Adventure begins...

All,

I've finished my first novel - The Horizon Venture - and I want to share it with you; positive critical feedback is welcomed! I'm going to publish a chapter every fortnight, up to chapter 5, and if the response is good, I'll publish more. First chapter goes up tomorrow.

Just so you know a little of what you're letting yourself in for, the synopsis is below:

The Horizon Venture - Synopsis
2056: the Colonial Wars have ended and, a fragile detente between humans and locals on the planet
Horizon -3 is in place. But the Xienom, a powerful and highly advanced indigenous majority, are still
angry at “the Terran maggot’s cancerous irruption” into the wider galaxy – and their own civilisation, and
are frustrated with the Interplanetary Federation’s inaction in bringing humanoid behaviour into line with
the rest of the planet, which they regard as humanoid favouritism.

In a seemingly unrelated incident one such humanoid, named Teacher, escapes from the private army
he’d been conscripted into at birth by Kane, a ruthless intergalactic industrialist whose company
KANECORP locates and prepares hostile alien environments for Earth’s future expansion using clone
supersoldiers.

Somewhere in Teacher’s memory is highly sensitive information which could reveal the truth of Kane’s
clandestine operations to the Interplanetary Federation. This would most likely see calls for humans to
be deported from the Horizon Galaxy, or incarcerated with immediate effect. Kane despatches some of
his best trained clones to “contain the situation”. But Teacher, armed with free improvised thought, is
more than a match for them; he leaves a trail of bodies in his wake, and draws the attention of local
news broadcasters and law enforcement agencies in the process.

Now desperate for asylum, but unsure of who he can trust, Teacher decides that the enemy of his
enemy is his friend - in this case Kane’s brother Ken, another industrialist, who has made it his personal
responsibility to curtail Kane’s interplanetary “ventures”. He knows that Ken will be able to make sense
of the information, and perhaps shed a little light on exactly who Teacher – code name Black Knight -
really is, and what Black Knight has done to the Xienom in the name of Earth.

Teacher begins transmitting highly sensitive information to Ken, but Kane intercepts, and blows Teacher
up, causing a major international incident in the process. Kane knows that Ken, his nemesis, will be
saddled with rescuing the fragile peace process on Horizon -3, giving Kane plenty of time to cover his
tracks, and make good his escape.

But Teacher survives the explosion; he is no ordinary clone soldier. And it turns out he’s only half clone;
the other half is Belusian, - a race that looks human, but are actually refugees from another galaxy.
That Belusian heritage also gave Teacher a twin sister, Lotti, who left Earth ten years ago to find him.
Freed of Kane’s influence, Lotti can now repair the telepathic link common to Belusian twins, and restore
his sense of who he really is. Through this Teacher learns that it is the planet Bluese – not Kane’s
genetic engineering- that has given him the power to reject Kane’s mind control, and to survive the
explosion, and numerous other encounters in his twenty years in Kane’s covert operations forces.
Armed with this knowledge, the twins join forces with Ken, and his private army THE MEN, who must
now do their best to stop a full scale war with the Xienom, who regard Kane’s explosion as a direct
terrorist threat by insurgents. The Xienom have abandoned diplomacy and now move to eradicate all
humans from their land.

The Interplanetary Federation look on, helpless and noncommittal, as Teacher and Lotti find themselves
holding the key memories and abilities that can a diffuse the crisis. Alone together, they will determine
the rights and reputations of humans in the Horizon Galaxy for many light years to come…

Copyright © 2000 – 2010 taylormade21.com Ltd all rights reserved. Characters in this work are fictional and
imaginary, and any similarities between people and events outside of this work are coincidental.
Read more…

Who are your favorite black sf artists?

I'm heading the art program for the next World Science Fiction Convention (http://www.renovationsf.org). We are having a festival of the visual arts one night of the convention and are generally trying to expand our treatment of the arts beyond what other recent Worldcons have done.

Right now we are considering who to invite to be in the program (anyone can volunteer, but we're making a point to reach out to some people, especially people who live in the Western US, near Reno, where the convention will be held next August).

I'd really appreciate it if people would let me know who their favorite living black science fiction and fantasy artists are, so I can consider them for this part of the process.

Thanks!
Read more…

NaNoWriMo Anyone?

Of course, It's been a long, long time since I've been here. Mostly because I've been living life - work and family (we just had our first baby in September) but also because I decided not to be as addicted to the internet in 2010. And I must say, apart from my facebook addiction, I did okay.

Unfortunately, I did not write much fiction. I didn't work on the Ironics novel consistently or finish any of my other projects. Sad, I know. I wrote quite a bit for my job but neglected my fiction.

But no more --- at least, not for November! Although I am incredibly busy (did I mention we have a newborn? LOL), I am on a leave from teaching my courses and figure this is the only year I will be sure to have a chance to participate in National Novel Writing Month ( If you don't know what it is, check it out here - nanowrimo.org). So, I'm throwing in my hat and picking up the pen. I plan on plugging through my 50,000 words and not looking back. I'm hoping that spending time just slogging through the zero draft will help me get it done.

Anyone else participating this November? If so, what are you working on?

Read more…

Another Historical Turning Point!

Reported from Disassociated Press 2020 (DP) via the Cybertimes Archives dated 2012
This Historical Turning Point report is paid for by Solient Ham Meat Byproducts, when you can't afford real meat, buy Solient Ham!

Reported by "Scoop" Johanson

"Mega-corporations began hiring their own private defense contractors in order to, as they claim "protect their corporate assets." This began in 2010 when Monsanto purchased Xe Services (formerly called Blackwater USA, when news of corporate malfeasance caused them to lose some of their government defense contracts).

This in turn set off a landslide of corporations acquiring their own private military companies. Each corporation would later claim this is simply a means of protecting themselves against civil unrest, corporate sabotage, and government interference. This was looked upon with suspicion by local governments, police departments and the common citizen who questioned why a corporation needed a police force in the first place.

In the year 2016, these corporate defense teams were involved in suppressing riots around Monsanto when it was discovered that seeds purchased from Monsanto were genetically engineered to fail to germinate new seeds. This "failure" would cause people to continue to purchase seeds from Monsanto in the future.

There were other allegations that Monsanto's genetic materials were making their way into the public genome and damaging farmers ability to create seeds from non-Monsanto seed stock. When unhappy farmers protested at the newly moved Monsanto headquarters in Chicago, they were "repelled" by Xe Services. Nearly 300 were injured or killed in the action. No charges were filed against Monsanto by the district attorney. Allegations indicated the district attorney retired under mysterious circumstances soon after.

In 2018, there were other allegations against several other corporations whose defense forces were involved in operations against rival corporations. These actions caused the corporate defense forces to come in conflict with local police forces. The police departments unable to afford to contest with corporate defense groups and were subsumed into the corporation's defense forces. This transition from public servants to corporate servants was sanctioned because local governments were so dependent on the corporate funds raised by the mega-corporations in the midsts of their city centers.

By 2020, corporate warfare was common on any major metropolis that boasted a corporate defense organization. Any corporations unable to afford one were often vulnerable to what was termed "the new hostile takeover." This trend in corporate asset protection, city planning and development have changed the streets of every major city in the United States."

The Real News behind this Headline from the Future:


Monsanto Now "Owns" Blackwater (Xe)?

A report by Jeremy Scahill in The Nation (Blackwater’s Black Ops, 9/15/2010) revealed that the largest mercenary army in the world, Blackwater (now called Xe Services) clandestine intelligence services was sold to the multinational Monsanto. Blackwater was renamed in 2009 after becoming famous in the world with numerous reports of abuses in Iraq, including massacres of civilians. It remains the largest private contractor of the U.S. Department of State “security services,” that practices state terrorism by giving the government the opportunity to deny it.

Many military and former CIA officers work for Blackwater or related companies created to divert attention from their bad reputation and make more profit selling their nefarious services-ranging from information and intelligence to infiltration, political lobbying and paramilitary training – for other governments, banks and multinational corporations. According to Scahill, business with multinationals, like Monsanto, Chevron, and financial giants such as Barclays and Deutsche Bank, are channeled through two companies owned by Erik Prince, owner of Blackwater: Total Intelligence Solutions and Terrorism Research Center. These officers and directors share Blackwater.

One of them, Cofer Black, known for his brutality as one of the directors of the CIA, was the one who made contact with Monsanto in 2008 as director of Total Intelligence, entering into the contract with the company to spy on and infiltrate organizations of animal rights activists, anti-GM and other dirty activities of the biotech giant.

Contacted by Scahill, the Monsanto executive Kevin Wilson declined to comment, but later confirmed to The Nation that they had hired Total Intelligence in 2008 and 2009, according to Monsanto only to keep track of “public disclosure” of its opponents. He also said that Total Intelligence was a “totally separate entity from Blackwater.”

However, Scahill has copies of emails from Cofer Black after the meeting with Wilson for Monsanto, where he explains to other former CIA agents, using their Blackwater e-mails, that the discussion with Wilson was that Total Intelligence had become “Monsanto’s intelligence arm,” spying on activists and other actions, including “our people to legally integrate these groups.” Total Intelligence Monsanto paid $ 127,000 in 2008 and $ 105,000 in 2009.

No wonder that a company engaged in the “science of death” as Monsanto, which has been dedicated from the outset to produce toxic poisons spilling from Agent Orange to PCBs (polychlorinated biphenyls), pesticides, hormones and genetically modified seeds, is associated with another company of thugs.

Almost simultaneously with the publication of this article in The Nation, the Via Campesina reported the purchase of 500,000 shares of Monsanto, for more than $23 million by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, which with this action completed the outing of the mask of “philanthropy.” Another association that is not surprising.

It is a marriage between the two most brutal monopolies in the history of industrialism: Bill Gates controls more than 90 percent of the market share of proprietary computing and Monsanto about 90 percent of the global transgenic seed market and most global commercial seed. There does not exist in any other industrial sector monopolies so vast, whose very existence is a negation of the vaunted principle of “market competition” of capitalism. Both Gates and Monsanto are very aggressive in defending their ill-gotten monopolies.

Although Bill Gates might try to say that the Foundation is not linked to his business, all it proves is the opposite: most of their donations end up favoring the commercial investments of the tycoon, not really “donating” anything, but instead of paying taxes to the state coffers, he invests his profits in where it is favorable to him economically, including propaganda from their supposed good intentions. On the contrary, their “donations” finance projects as destructive as geoengineering or replacement of natural community medicines for high-tech patented medicines in the poorest areas of the world. What a coincidence, former Secretary of Health Julio Frenk and Ernesto Zedillo are advisers of the Foundation.

Like Monsanto, Gates is also engaged in trying to destroy rural farming worldwide, mainly through the “Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa” (AGRA). It works as a Trojan horse to deprive poor African farmers of their traditional seeds, replacing them with the seeds of their companies first, finally by genetically modified (GM). To this end, the Foundation hired Robert Horsch in 2006, the director of Monsanto. Now Gates, airing major profits, went straight to the source.

Blackwater, Monsanto and Gates are three sides of the same figure: the war machine on the planet and most people who inhabit it, are peasants, indigenous communities, people who want to share information and knowledge or any other who does not want to be in the aegis of profit and the destructiveness of capitalism.

* The author is a researcher at ETC Group
Read more…


Last night, People came out to show their support for my Fine Arts show and it was
fantastic. Everyone loved the paintings that was on display and I greatly appreciate it.
Of course, the exhibition will be up for viewing for a whole month, until Oct.31.

A good friend named Nicole Bowen came by to show her support and re-connected with
me...since she is the live action model for my comic book character- Little Miss Strange.

I was busy talking to interesting people and taking pictures of other artist's work.

I felt a great surge of peace and creativity and hope this event will lead to many
more exhibitions and even greater prosperity. So if you are a Black Sci- Fi member
who lives in NYC, get on the E train to Sutphin Blvd./ Archer Ave and walk 2 blocks to
147- 12 Archer Ave in Jamaica, Queens and check out my show.
































Read more…

Dark Story - Omnibus 1 - Space and Time

A Dark Story - started as a collaborative challenge issued by Milton Davis. It tells the tale of the fall of an Empire led by a family dynasty called Cassad. The last of the Cassads has been taken into custody in the twenty-third year of the Interregnum and the revolutionary fall of his empire. Can the last Cassad escape with loyalist help to recover his empire? Will the revolutionaries replace the empire with something better, or will it degenerate into anarchy? Will cool and alien dominions attempt to absorb the momentarily leaderless empire into their own governments? Or will a new Emperor rise phoenix-like from the ashes of the old? This rousing tale of treachery, deceit, back door dealings, and revolutionary pograms is awaiting the next pen bold enough to add to it. You can add to the story at this link.

The story has already be enhanced with the stylish writings of Night Manager, Ronald T. Jones, and Whiyahyul & Diop Malvi. This document was created as an aid to help me formulate where I might go in my additions to the story. No one is required to utilize this aid. Feel free to tell your story, your way and add to the legend of the Empire of the Cassads. I have included a compiled version of the story in a single Microsoft Word 97-2003 compatible document with each section marked by its creator and original time-stamp. All minor corrections are mine, made purely for readability's sake. Any implications or inferences within this document are purely my speculations, they do not have to be true, real or even correct assumptions. You can read the story in its original format at the included link. Or, you could stop reading and just write!


A. The anchor date was February 12, 23rd year of the New Regime
  1. no official year has been established
  2. Still using the calendar of Old Earth, since the month of February is named
  3. No name is given for the Old Regime likely the Cassad Empire (if they were particularly vain)
  4. Nor is there a full name or title for the final known Cassad
  5. Currently the Empire has been renamed the Interregnum until a new form of government asserts itself.
  6. 23 years have passed since the revolution which toppled the primary controlling family of the Empire, the Cassads.

B. Humans have been space-faring for quite some time, at least two thousand years. ("Cassad would be forced to pay for his family's "thousands of years of oppression"")
  1. Implication - It is not mentioned how early spaceflight changed the human condition on Earth, or for that matter whether Earth and the Sol system still exist.
  2. Story Seed - How they acquired the technology for fast interstellar space travel is unknown.
  3. Story Seed - Perhaps its acquisition allowed the Cassads to cement themselves into the seats of power in the first place.
  4. Story Seed - The speed, capacity or capabilities of such travel have not been determined specifically, nor has it been made clear, if there are aliens with different or better technologies available.

C. There are three hundred and fifteen habitable worlds, asteroids and dust belt systems.
  1. Implication - There are also likely thousands of habitable space stations, moons and other habitat systems as well. The Empire's fleet had to be fast, powerful and efficient to control as many worlds as it did. Likely not a conscript army.
  2. Story Seed - No mention of the remains of the Cassad Empire's Fleet. Was it destroyed in battle or did it retreat into hiding until told when and where to strike?
  3. Implication - Since there would have to have been vast fleets of significant ability to control the empire, they are also likely to be densely populated or utilizing vast robotic fleets of ships if effective AI technology is available.
  4. Implication - If robotically controlled fleets are available, control codes, interface codes and security code technology needs to be integrated, routed, controlled and protected against outside influences or internal treachery.

D. There are at least 105-150 star systems within the confines of the Empire (assuming at least two-three habitable planets in each system). This is an Empire equal to the size and number of planets of the Star Trek Federation's Alpha Quadrant. (Incredibly large and allowing for numerous continuous threads.)
  1. Implication - The number of star systems indicates a fairly vast Empire considering the Milky way is not an easy place to find a star capable of supporting or maintaining human life let alone other forms of life
  2. Implication - The Cassad Empire would have to be comparable in size to the Federation's Alpha quadrant, covering about 8,000 light years.
  3. Implication - Since aliens are present in the storyline, there are likely to be a variety of alien races, some with more or less capability than the Empire. (Added in the last Chapter by Whiyayul & Diop Malvi)
  4. Implication/Story Seed - Those stronger alien races with more power but may live too close to the center of the Empire to strike out directly could finance operations against the government. They may also pretend to be either less powerful or be on the same side as the Royal family until it suits them to stop pretending. They never present a direct threat or would be summarily destroyed or at least attacked.
  5. Implication/Story Seed - It is likely that other strong nations or planets who did not bow and were close to the center of the Empire were destroyed as an example. Weaker nations who resist are likely blockaded or occupied until the planet was pacified.
  6. Implication - Such a vast empire would require faster than light drives of some quality otherwise the distances would be too great to maintain the empire past the point of the drive's ability to reach that empire in time.

E. There was likely a governmental bureaucracy underlying the Ruling Family to maintain the day to day operations of such a vast empire. This government agency would be rife with spies working for the royal family.
  1. Story Seed - There were also likely planetary governors and planetary defense fleets loyal to the Empire and necessary for its function. Rebel commanders were likely recruited from these ranks.
  2. Implication - There may have also been a secret police (common in fascist governments) or spy network providing intelligence within the government as well as without. Spy networks may have included merchants, manufacturers, diplomats, military members, elite members of society and the criminal underground.
  3. Implication - They are likely to be very skilled and dangerous operatives utilizing the best technology possible within their ranks. Spy technology may vary significantly from world to world, but likely the Empire would have superior technology simply because it would need it to be able to maintain its hold on planets who are far from the center of the Empire.
  4. Story Seed - They would also likely be the same agents who would help the Royal family return to power, if possible.

F. There also needs to be a faster than light communication system. Any empire is only as large as their ability to communicate effectively across it. Short range communications between ships are liable to use tight-beam lasers or narrow cast radiation emission systems such as microwaves that can be discerned from the background of space. Fleets that are separated by millions of miles using light or radiation based communications can take several minutes to several hours to complete. Common SF Types include:

1. Subspace Communications Technology: using a faster than light carrier wave, similar to warp drive, a signal is embedded in the under-layers of space-time and moves at faster than light speeds.
  • Benefits: much faster than light, a rate needs to be determined however, can be used on ships in motion.
  • Disadvantages: Vulnerable to jamming, affected by natural phenomenon such as stars of immense gravity or singularities.
2. Tachyon Pulse Emissions: bursts of synchronized tachyon energy encoded and squirted from one tachyon relay station to another. Best done planet to planet since compensation for planetary movement is slight and can be calculated for.
  • Benefits: significantly faster than light, messages require decoding to use; highly-advanced technology would be of significant advantage in coordination of resources and known fleet activity, would not likely be shared if the advantage could be kept away from lesser technologically advanced cultures.
  • Disadvantages: Will occasionally experience black out periods due to alignment issues, requires sophisticated equipment to utilize such technology, not able to receive in motion, since signal would be faster than any ship, ship would need to be a stationary target to receive.
3. Ansible Comm Matrix: utilizing quantum-entangled particles to transmit data instantaneously between two points;
  • Benefit: communication is instantaneous, regardless of motion or location; extremely advantageous technology, not likely to be shared if it can be avoided. Requires significant monitoring systems and technology, low tech species need not apply.
  • Disadvantages: require multiple entangled locations or computer systems for each area to be communicated with, since entanglement will usually only work with one entangled pair at a time; Will probably have an ansible relay network since entangling particles would take time and effort for every ship that needed them. Fleets might be entangled to each other with relay ships embedded within each fleet for fleet to fleet communications.
  • Very expensive technology: likely supplemented with other lesser communication technologies for short range communication.

4. Psycho-graphic Systems Array: more a prediction system than an actual system of communication. communicating between two intelligence computer interfaces and two profiled humans, using theoretical models, two AIs predict communications between two points based on psychological profiles of the transmitters and receivers. Basically, these predicted conversations would be based on previous potential orders, data, behavior and response protocols on file.
  • Benefits: instantaneous, unaffected by movement or distance; Cannot be intercepted since no actual data is being transmitted. System is supported with a slower means of communication which will compare actual orders with potential orders for comparison and updating as necessary.
  • Disadvantages: margin of error based on variability of environments, lack of coordination of information resources, requires regular synchronization of computer systems which would likely occur using the slower communication system but that system is has to still be faster than light for it to work for an empire the size of Cassad's.

5. Telepathic Network: using human psychics to transmit messages from location to location; since sending telepathy between the stars is a great distance, there may need to be significant augmentation equipment within the ships required to receive. Powerful psychers may need less supporting equipment or are able to send more significant information as a result of their mental prowess.
  • Benefits: messages may include emotional content, depending on universe parameters speed varies from instantaneously to months
  • Disadvantages: communications quality may depend on distance, state of mind, barriers, also requires a living telepath.
  • Notes: Can also be done with telepathic equipment allowing for the temporary transfer of minds from body to body; this is a very advanced technology, likely alien and forbidden or with strange unforeseen side-effects.

6. FTL message capsules: These are simply message capsules ala Pony Express. They are equipped with the fastest FTL engines possible and used to send message packages (data crystals or other storage mediums); If they are fast enough, even a human or two could be shipped in some sort of stasis or cold-sleep. These ships would be equipped with the most sophisticated astrogation equipment, highly shielded against all types of radiation and space debris and likely have no equal when it comes to moving at FTL speeds. They would need to be one of the fastest things in space.
  • Benefits: can send physical materials limited by mass of delivery system, Complex information can be sent;
  • Disadvantages: Delay time in comparison to other mediums, can only be as fast as the fastest ship or drive system, subject to interception if communication routes are known.



Thaddeus Howze
ebonstorm@gmail.com
All written works contained herein are the © copyright of their respective authors. All Rights Reserved.
Read more…

Post-Occupation: The Conclusion

The Chandliss residence was a modest size house, 20th century traditional, with a huge acreage of lawn bordered by a white wooden fence. Beyond the immediate property lay an expansive valley of rolling grassland and tree dotted hills, striated by streams that fed into a far off lake. The house was somewhere in Kansas . Which was to say it was in the middle of nowhere. Montgomery's closest neighbor must have been leagues over one of those distant hills, because I didn't see any sign of human occupancy other than a Secret Service guard post within visual range of the house.

Montgomery and I were riding in an armored rover with a Secret Service agent the control. A swept-winged, unmanned spotter flew past us doing an overwatch. The driver veered off the main road onto a narrower path leading to the house's driveway. At the end of the driveway was a woman I recognized from pictures as Montgomery's wife.

Maureen Chandliss, like her husband, was not a regen recipient. I could tell. Anyone could. Regen treatment eliminated wrinkles, reversing the sags of age, ironing out the skin to the point where it became smooth as plastic. Maureen's youthful pallor, enhanced by a dazzling smile, was clearly the result of healthy living, aided by prize winning genes. She wore a plaid shirt and green khakis. Her gray-streaked auburn hair flowed freely past her shoulders. Montgomery was out of the vehicle the instant it came to a stop. He rushed to his wife and embraced her with a fierceness that advertised his affection to the world.

"It's about time you dropped by," Maureen teased.

Montgomery stroked her hair. "I can't stay away from your fabulous home cooking for any length of time."

"That and something else."

I don't think Montgomery's wife meant for that last inuendo to reach my ears. She put a hand to her mouth, clearing her throat before shining her attention on me. "Hello, Nola. Mont's told me all about you."

"It's an honor and a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Chandliss,"

We shook hands. Then Maureen pulled me closer. "Listen, I'm not one of those DC elitists. It's a first name basis with me."

"Yes Maam."

"And none of that maam stuff either," Maureen hooked an arm through my elbow and we both started up the walkway toward the front door. "Don't worry, we'll get you loosened up with a good meal."

"I hope you whipped up some deviled eggs," Montgomery called out from behind us.

Maureen threw me a wink. "See what I'll have to put up with after he retires?"

My boss became conspicuously silent.

Montgomery introduced me to his two sons when we entered the house. Mason, with his strong jaw and squared crew cut was the spitting image of his father in his early adult years. McIntyre, the younger sibling, was a little shorter, a bit less imposing with a softer face that took after his mother's. As I looked around the house I marvelled at its quaintness. The furnishing was mid twentieth century at the most, complete with a mantle and real fire place.Other than a projection screen in the living room and an environmental regulator mounted next to the front closet, the interior was achingly bereft of current tech. The place was a little too period peice for my taste.

"This is such a beautiful house," I said, directing my praise to Maureen. "The entire area is so scenic and peaceful. I can understand why you chose not to move to Washington."

"And I'm all the saner for it." Maureen gestured to a decadently plush sofa next to the window. "Please sit. Would you like a glass of lemonade?"

"Her lemonade is a taste of paradise," Montgomery declared heartily. "Made from fresh squeezed lemons...none of that synthetic crap."

"Mason, don't just stand there like a rock embedded in packed dirt," Maureen admonished gently. "Bring Nola a glass."

The elder son withdrew to the kitchen with an audible sigh while Maureen sat next to me on the couch. "Anyway, I work more effectively from the peace and comfort of home than in some distracting urban pressure cooker."

"What kind of work do you do?" I asked.

"She's a chemist," Montgomery answered, plopping down in a love seat across from us. "World renowned."

"So I'm told." Maureen waved the comment away. "But accolades are meaningless to me. My work is what counts. I've been designing chemical agents for use against the collabs."

"I think you'd be intersted in her research," said Montgomery. "Maureen has created some nasty airborne stuff that, under ideal climatic conditions, can wipe out the population of a small city in a matter of seconds."

A creeping chill settled over me. Evidently, Maureen was no ordinary politician's spouse.

"Our effort aginst the collabs is a family affair," Maureen revealed as Mason entered the living room and handed me a cold, clear glass of lemonade. "Mason is a Marine Recon lieutenant. He'll be departing on the expedition."

I looked up at Mason. "Is that so?"

"Yes, Maam," the Marine replied in a clear, precise voice. "I'll be shipping out with the first wave."

I turned to McIntyre, who was perched on the edge of the sofa. "How about you? Are you in the military?"

The younger brother's boyish features expanded into a dimpled smile. "No maam. I'm a graduate student studying geophysics. But I will be part of the geologic team assigned to survey the Traitor's Planet's mineral resources."

"Yeah, we clear the planet of its infestation and you worms come in behind us to loot," Mason jabbed.

"No Mason, we don't loot," came McInyre's playfully condescending reply. "We find the loot for others to take. Get that through your thick grunt skull."

While the two brothers exchanged ribbing remarks, Maureen retreated toward the kitchen shaking her head, wearing a boys-will-be-boys expression. "Come on, Nola, what say we check on the food and leave the adolescents to their antics."

I made a show of trying to hide my amusement as I followed Montgomery's wife out of the room.

Ten minutes later we were sitting at the dining room table chowing down on roast hen, dressing, mixed vegetables, biscuits, and gravy. I barely had enough room in my crowded stomach to accomodate dessert, which consisted of a warm, oozing slice of the best apple pie I had ever tasted.

Afterward, we gathered in the living room for an evening of idle chit chat that died down when Montgomery turned on the projection screen. Montgomery was a news junkie, which, I suppose he had to be, given what he did for a living. The broadcasters didn't have anything new to report beyond the ordinary. Jihadist terrorists, tacitly supported by the Caliphate, blew up a mosque full of Shiites in an embattled central Asian state. Bolivarian government forces were cracking down on separatists in the Guyana Province, and the Russian president was fending off (open secret) accusations of drug abuse and corruption. The remaining coverage focused on the hunt for suspected collabs on Earth, tying that in with the ongoing preparations to invade the so-called Traitor's Planet.

It was time for me go, for which I was glad. That ridiculously comfortable sofa was beginning to lull me into a doze. I thanked Maureen for the delicious dinner, scrumptous dessert, and the wonderful hospitality. I bid farewell to the brothers. Montgomery walked me to the rover that was going to take me to a waiting flyer. He gave a list assignments that he wanted me to tackle when I returned to Washington and sent me on my way.

"How long will he be at his home?"

"Three days, that's why I must do this now. The window is perfect."

"We wanted a more...public venue."

"Opportunity trumps desire. I have an opportunity. I'm taking it. This is my call, but I would appreciate your authorization as a formality."

"I don't know..."

"I'm going in with or without your blessing. I'm just giving you the courtesy of notifying you. Do I have your authorization?"

"Very well."

I switched off my encrypted link and blew out a slow, meditative breath. It was time.

Night in this part of Kansas was a multilayered opacity that seeped into your pores as if you were submerged in a sea of black ink. I know. I had to shut down key functions of my stealth suit after completing a drop from the cloaked suborbital pod that I used to secretly ferret myself to these coordinates. I landed softly along the bank of a creek, fifteen miles from the Chandliss residence. The approaching aerial spotter would have detected a trace signature from the conversion unit that powered my suit's night vision and mobility boosters. The suit's stealth mode operated on a separate feed that required only the tiniest tendril of energy to sustain the inversion field that made me invisible to active and passive sensors. The spotter could not detect that energy charge. I still had stealth, but at the expense of sight. And without my boosters, covering fifteen miles at a unaugmented pace, made for a comparatively slow and laborious trek. Navigating through this pitch black darkness was not as difficult as it could have been only because I had studied a topographical chart of the path I was on. That didn't mean I was nessesarily going to avoid every swell and dip. I didn't. But having a smidgeon of foreknowledge was preferrable to total ignorance any day. Just because the spotter failed to detect me didn't give me license to ignore the drone when it glided overhead like a prowling raptor. I still dropped, hugging the ground, doing my best to mimik a statue...a prone statue. Because even though the spotter could not see me directly, it would have caught sight of disturbed grass, drawing an inference that ruled out wind as a cause of the motion. Maybe it would have assumed an animal of some sort was scampering through the field. An assumption the spotter would not have neglected to investigate. I didn't chance doing anything that might draw its attention.

Each time the spotter's red running light receded in the distance I jumped to my feet and ran, maintaining an even pace to conserve energy. It seemed like I had been on the move for hours. But when I came upon the structure that resembled a giant, antiquated outhouse, I realized how close to the objective I actually was. I unholstered my Visionary 26 auto pistol and skulked like a panther toward the Secret Service guard post. My eyes were adjusted to the dark well enough to spot a guard approaching the post building. He must have been on foot patrol. Had he noticed me, he would have transmitted and a rapid response element from a nearby location--I didn't know where--would have pounced on me like a tsunami. That is if didn't he killed me first. It was a simple matter of making sure the guard didn't see me. I advanced quickly, raised my pistol and placed pressure on the trigger. The pistol recoiled gently. A kularium tipped spike hissed from its narrow barrel, drilling through the guard's head with a muted thunk. The guard's body barely hit the ground when I sprinted to the post building and kicked the door in.

Three guards, sitting at consoles turned in my direction, stunned. My V26 whispered before they could react. I shot each guard once in the body. Then I shot each one a second time, a spike per head for good measure. I rushed to the nearest guard, pulled his corpse out of his chair and stood over a blood-smeared console. I knew the guard post procedures. The guards worked in rotations, sending a signal to the spotter, letting the machine know that all was secure at the post. A signal was supposed to be sent every fifteen minutes. Failure to transmit at the appointed time would alert the drone that something was amiss. The drone would then alert that rapid response element that I had absolutely no desire to confront. I tapped the right keys on the signal transmit panel. Then I did something extra. I inputted a command, ordering the spotter to do a patrol sweep for suspicious activity 25 miles to the north. Opposite of where I was heading. After that I proceeded to deactivate every security sensor surrounding the Chandliss estate. A gridded console screen displayed white blips, indicating where each sensor was located. There must have been over a thousand of the detectors, all buried maybe an inch or two beneath the ground. The blips went dark like fading stars, clearing me to step foot on the Chandliss' property without triggering an alarm.

I departed the guard post and double timed it toward toward the objective.

A rover was parked in front of the house. I turned on my night vision, adjusting it to the lowest setting. Two secret service guards sat in the vehicle. Immediately, I shut down the NV before its faint power output could be picked up by the spotter. I waited a moment for my eyes to readjust to the darkness. Then I moved, making a beeline toward the vehicle. I edged toward the driver's side, squatting down until I reached the driver's side window. I popped up, stuck my pistol through the open window and blasted a hole through the driver's temple. The second guard flinched, made a move to reach for his sidearm. A move I interrupted with a shot that left a bloody socket where his right eye used to be. I rounded the rover and scurried to the house, leaping up the front porch. I took out a stylus and picked the antique lock, then eased the door open. The living room was dimly lit by the glow of the projection screen. Mason was lying on the sofa. He had begun to stir from his sleep, due I'm sure, to my quiet entry. He was definitely an elite soldier. Elite soldiers were light sleepers. He opened his eyes, muttered groggily, then tensed when he saw me. I raised my pistol and put him back to sleep, permanently. I raced up the stairs to the second level. I didn't scout the upper floor, but I was sure that's where the rest of the family was located. A bedroom to my left. I entered the room, heard heavy snoring and saw someone lying in a bed too small to accomodate an adult. McIntyre was obviously a restive sleeper. The bedsheet was interwined around his fetally positioned body like a giant tapeworm. It was an endearing sight. I put a spike in his head. The snoring ceased.

I slipped out of McIntyre's room at the same instant that Maureen was emerging from another bedroom at the far end of the hall. She must have been headed to the restroom. Maureen saw me and gasped. Then she let out a shriek and tried to retreat back the way she had come. I opened fire. An auto burst from my weapon cleaved a gash from her lower left waist to the upper right shoulder blade. She spun to the floor.

At that second I heard a rustle in the room Maureen came out of. "Maureen?"

Montgomery's voice. "Maureen, what's wrong?"

The door opened.

I braced myself.

Montgomery stepped out into the hall in a T shirt and pajama pants. He saw me. His body went stiff, his eyes flaring wide in astonishment. Then he looked down. The sight of his wife's blood soaked body brought him to his knees. He gripped her shoulders, lifting her into his grief stricken embrace. A heart wrenchingly pitiful cry of sorrow, punctuated by gutteral rage rippled from the depths of his soul. I had my pistol trained on him but I swear the God I could not press the trigger. A perverse sense of guilt had stayed my hand, freezing me in place. I stood there, conflicted when I shouldn't have been, feeling a strain of sentiment for a man who murdered hundreds without a thought and called for the deaths of tens of millions out of cold, unreasoning hate. But that was the inhuman part of Montgomery. There was another all too human aspect of his personality. An aspect of warmth and generosity. There was humor and laughter and concern and commitment. It was to that aspect that I felt I owed something. I decided that Montgomery should at least see the face of his executioner. I stepped forward,stopping within five feet of my former boss.

He glared up at me through tear stained, hate-filled eyes. "You son of a bitch!" He growled shakily.

I lifted my face plate and when Montgomery recognized me, his jaw unhinged. "Nola?" He shook his head, lowering his dead wife to the floor. He stood and repeated my name. "Nola? It can't be...who sent you? Whose payroll are you on? The Russians? The Caliphate? The fucking Europeans? Or is it the West African Alliance? Is General Tunde your handler?"

"None of the above," I replied softly. "My allegiance is not to any nation on Earth."

He stared at me, his eyes narrowing. "You...you're a collab?"

"Yes, Mr. Secretary. I'm a collab."

A few seconds of silence hung between us. Then Montgomery started to laugh. It wasn't his usual light hearted chuckle, but a harsh and bitter dissonance. His body heaved in a convulsion of grim merriment. "Goddamn it to hell. I'm supposed to be the fucking Secretary of Security and yet I let a fucking collab infiltrate into my staff, under my very fucking nose. How many more collab infiltrators are out there?"

"You would be surprised," I replied.

Montgomery straightened, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "Well, it doesn't matter. You people are going to die and your planet is going to burn. In a generation, you traitors to your species will be less than a footnote in the glorious march of human history. So go ahead and finish what you started. Kill me. It won't change your fate."

I pressed the trigger. Three spikes punctured Montgomery's chest, rupturing his heart. He flopped backwards hitting the floor hard. With his arms spread wide and his head lolled to one side, he looked like Jesus on the cross. I immediately shook off the association and removed an eight inch utility blade from my thigh sheath.

As I stood over Montgomery's body, I was beset by another bout of hesitation. However, this was brought about not by sentiment, but revulsion. For what I was about to do ran counter to the humanity I still clung to in spite of my chosen...profession.

But I had to act fast. The spotter would soon be returning from that goose chase I sent it on.

This was going to be difficult...

World News Network...This is Hastings Willoughby, WNN, reporting live from the residence of Cabinet member and Secretary of Security, Montgomery Chandliss. The secretary and his family were found dead at an early morning hour by a Secret Service Rapid Response element. This is a truly horrible development...Secretary Chandliss, his wife and two two sons, according to the latest update I've received, were discovered with fatal gunshot wounds...more horrific, and again, this is yet to be corroborated, but the report I'm getting is that their bodies were disembowled and their throats slashed...six Secret Secret guards were also found dead on or near the premesis...

American News Service...The manner by which the secretary and his family were killed and mutilated closely resembles the methods used by the Caliphate-backed Soldiers of Jihad, a terrorist group that has been committing a spate of atrocities in Central Asia in an effort to impose strict Wabbahist-style regimes in the region...

Global Broadcasting Company...Mamud Mansur, the emir's senior spokesperson has issued a statement denying the Caliphate's involvement in the grisly slayings of Secretary Chandliss and his family...

Washington News Circuit...this just in, a CIA (Continental Intelligence Agency) surveillance sattelite picked up a powerful burst of static on the night of Secratary Chandliss' assassination. The static, which was catalogued by the satellite's core processor and relayed to data anlaysts at Langley, was discovered to have contained a hidden carrier signal. The signal's point of destination has been determined to be somewhere in the midwestern United States. The analysts have not been able to specify an exact location. However, they were successful in tracing the signal's origin to Riyayd, Arabia, where the headquarters of the Caliphate Security Intelligence Directorate is based. It has been substantiated by reliable sources that the CSID provides training and assistence to the terrorist organization Soldiers of Jihad...

World News Network...Another world leader has fallen at the hands of assassins. Chairman Olu Alaba, leader of the West African Alliance was killed Tuesday afternoon when his motorcade was hit by portable launched missiles...

American News Service...Two simultaneous attacks by American forces were launched against the CSID headquarters in Riyadh and a suspected Soldiers of Jihad training camp in northern Turkmenistan. The Riyadh attack was orbital based in what may be, if confirmed, the first use of the newly developed Epoch orbital weapons system...

Global Broadcasting Company...Caliphate space fighters attacked an American research station on the moon an hour ago. Casualty data is still coming in, but at last count, there are over three hundred fatalities. This is truly a tragic culmination of recent events. The clamor of war drums has drowned out the reasoned voices of calm and diplomacy. The people of Earth stand helpless as two of the world's most formidable powers clash in humanity's first massive internacine conflict since the withdrawal of the Opakular.

 

I boarded a transcontinental unirail bound for Luanda two days after the USNF and the Caliphate went to war. By that time, the Nola Monroe that I had been in Washington had submitted her resignation to the Cabinet. The reason being her inconsolable distress over the death of her former superior and mentor. My work was done. I took my assigned window seat and withdrew an image pad from the media slot next to my arm rest. I tapped the screen to ON mode and proceeded to make my programming selection. I clicked NEWS and a talking head appeared on the screen giving the latest update on the war that I sparked.

Another passenger boarded, a tall, broad shouldered African god with a bald head and a well trimmed goatee. He moved down the aisle with a small travel bag in hand. Our eyes met in the briefest instant of contact as he headed toward a rear seat. That instant communicated volumes. He had done his part in West Africa. Taking out Chairman Alaba using a stealth missile launcher, which Alliance investigators still had not uncovered, was a much more efficient, not to mention, hands off method of neutralizing a target than the up close and personnal butchery I had to perform. I was having nightmares that invariably concluded with me on the verge of drowning in a crimson, gore-strewn lake. Having to relive night after night of that horror was rough. But framing a blood thirty terrorist orgnanization, required a bit more effort than simply fabricating an incriminating signal hidden in a static stream. The crime required a shock element so provocative as to drive the American people into a vengeful fury. Was it worth it? Well, with the USNF and the Caliphate at each other's throats and the West African Alliance riven by civil war in the wake of its leader's death, Earth was in no position to invade another world. Utopia was safe for the time being. Under the circumstances, I had no problem enduring a few restless nights to reach that outcome.

My first name really is Nola. I was born on Earth, on which I lived for the first two years of my life before my parents boarded the last evacuating transport to Utopia. We barely escaped the mass slaughter that GD24 unleashed on real or imagined collabs.

To hear it from the common person, who tended to parrot the propaganda generated by Earth historians, the Opak occupation was the most calamitous event in human history. In actuality, the period was a golden age. Make no mistake, the Opakular were conquerers in the tradtional sense. They made that plainly clear when their ships arrived in the Solar System bearing a message proclaiming their intent to establish authority over Earth. The human race could either take heed and receive the Opaks without resistence or face dire conseqences. Earth's leaders chose the dire route. It took the destruction of Earth's most powerful militaries before humanity had finally taken heed. Once the Opaks settled into their role as our overlords, they revealed another side to their character. The Opaks were intensely altruistic. It was an integral part of who they were, an element deeply ingrained in their culture. They truly believed in the concept of uplifting a species. Under the Opak's non-repressive, non-exploitative rule, humanity benefitted enormously. Wars were eliminated. Of course that was a given. A single Opak battle cruiser was an ample enough deterrant to human conflict. The miracle of Opak medical science had wiped out all diseases. Opak technology transformed deserts into lush valleys, cleansed the air of pollutants, repaired Earth's ozone layer and restored damaged ecosystems. Their climate arrays regulated the weather, moderating dangerous storm systems. Hunger and poverty vanished. Crime became practically nonexistant. The Opaks shared their altruistic philosophy with the same giving spirit that they had shared some of their technology. Many humans latched on to this philosophy, absorbing its life affirming principles. Unfortunately, there was a large cross section of humanity that continued to resent the Opak presence. That segment passed along its animus toward the aliens to successive generations. These were humans who had never come to terms with the fact that theirs was no longer the dominant species on Earth. Religious fanatics, racists, anarchists, nationalists, extremists of every stripe held tightly to their depraved allegiances, clinging with an addict's obssesion to petty, outdated grievances.

Toward the end of the third century of their occupation, the Opaks began drawing down their forces throughout the solar system. The Opaks had never been very talkative about matters regarding their empire. But there had been rumors floating about that the Opaks were at war with another species on the far side of the galaxy. That apparently explained their eventual withdrawal. Perhaps they needed to prioritize their resources. Thank God the Opaks didn't abandon their supporters before they left. They knew there would no place on Earth for collabs in their absence, not with so many reactives and regressives chomping at the bit to reclaim their planet.

Utopia is a beautiful Earth like world, positioned perfectly within its system's habitable zone. The Opaks gave us the technology to carve out a life for ourselves on this virgin planet they selected. They also gave us an arsenol. The Opaks knew that sooner or later Earth would find us and that it would dispatch forces in an effort to wipe out humanity's greatest experiment. What was the experiment? That humans could live together in mutual respect and understanding. That we could exist side by side in a spirit of love and selfless devotion. That we could resolve differences without resort to violence...that we could maintain this state of peace in the absence of alien oversight. That experiment proved a complete failure on Earth, which had already reverted to the misery that it had been prior to the Opaks' arrival. It was only a matter of time before the little brushfires of discord that arose when the Opaks left flared into a much bigger catastrophe. That eventuality would have occurred without collab instigation.

By contrast, the experiment on Utopia had been a resounding success. However, we cannot grow complacent. Despite its internal turmoil, Earth remains a clear and present threat to our way of life...to our very existence.

I was going to be sure to include that little editorial during my debrief when I returned home. I'm a weapons expert. I witnessed first hand Earth's growing military capability. Utopians simply could not make do with the weapons the Opaks rendered to us. We had to expand our armaments, produce and innovate just like the Earthers were doing. Otherwise, the next time Earth pulled itself together enough to mobilize for an invasion, Utopia would find itself at a serious disadvantage...

Good grief. Too much thinking. I needed to relax, clear my head. I turned off the image pad and put it away. I would be debarking in Luanda in four hours. From there, it was on to an isolated outback somewhere in Namibia where a stealthed shuttle awaited. After that, home.

I shut my eyes and thought about home. It wasn't long before I drifted off into the first nightmare-free slumber I had experienced in days. I dreamed about apple pie.

 

 

 

Read more…

Chaos Chronicals digitized

Let me share with you cosmic beginnings…Coming to E-book soonWhat is Cosmic Beginnings?They are the chaos chronicles an ancient prophecy; one where the war in heaven thunders across the known universe. This is a story told through the cultural eyes of mother Africa. These are her legends her heroes and heroines that have been brushed beneath the surface or politely bleached out of the world view. This is the story of African gods and goddesses that have existed long before western man’s civilization came into existence.Every culture from around the globe speaks of their deities the benevolent and the malevolent Norse, Greek, Roman and so forth. Throughout the decades comic books, cartoons animations and novels are dedicated to them acknowledging theirtriumphs and defeats. Where are mother Africa’s heroes outside of those Egyptian deities who have been so politely Europeanized and dissected away from the continent of Africa? Where are those deities with complexions like onyx, hematite, and cooper with pepper corn hair looking as if they had been chiseled from granite?Cosmic Beginnings contains some of the most unique and original characters bringing pages to life revealing a world shrouded in illusions and mystery.Unsuspecting and unknowing Kenyatta is part of an ancient prophecy despite her being unaware of the prophecy her spirit is completely aware leading her into the dream time where she encounters horrific dream imagery that literally draws blood. Her Native American ancestors urge her to seek out the blood that is strongest in her veins; thus she embarks on a deadly journey through West Africa for answers.Captain Fatima Jatari is a seasoned seafaring black woman and captain of the H20C.A.T.a vessel commission solely for the purpose of investigating unexplainable incidents, bizarre accidents and fatalities off the coast of Nigeria. When a series of mysterious events leaving a wake of turmoil and chaos erupt she and her crew are immediately dispatched to investigate the source of the upheaval, but unbeknownst to her she and her crew all share a part in the ancient prophecy. On land and sea these two woman’s paths must cross to rise up against an unimaginable malefic force. I wrote Cosmic beginnings because I was tired of seeing African culture and traditions exploited by Hollywood, and their screen writers, producers along with other non African writers depicting African traditions and culture in a less then admirable light; despite the fact that yes we are talking about Sci-Fi we are also talking about positive images being depicted in the story. The main characters are strong courageous intelligent and educated women, and this is a story created outside of the urban scope of what we are all use to. I wrote this story in such a way it not only removes you from your city and state; it forces you to think outside of the box. I use speculative elements being that it is not only a Sci-fi story, but it’s a historical fiction as well. All throughout the history of the Trans Atlantic slave trade there was a question lingering in the air in regards to the mysterious ship wreck of the Henri-Etta Marie. It is that element which I incorporate into the story. The media, Hollywood, European racist scholars, and socio-political education system have dominated the realm of the publishing world in every genre including the ever grow realm of Science Fiction. In writing and publishing “Cosmic Beginnings the Chaos Chronicals Vol. 1 and 2, I am attempting to reverse negative and derogatory images them have been associated with African culture and tradition. The purpose of this novel is to empower through creativity and imagination. I hope to inspire through this endeavor and empower our youth with heroes that look like us. Coming to E-book soon down load it on the fly….
Read more…

I am pleasantly surprised with the last month’s progress. God is indeed good to me. Here is a brief recap of
things that have happened so far.




The GENESIS Anthology of Black Science Fiction was completed on schedule. We ran into a few technical issues
but got it done and we will continue to improve the process in the future.




Alien Encounters was a magnificent success. The attendance was great, the speakers
were phenomenal, and the crowd actively engaged the panelists and speakers with
intriguing questions and insight. Everyone in attendance had a productive and
informative time that they took away from the experience.

The publishing company has been established to publish works produced by Black Science Fiction Society called
Graves Sheffield Publishing. It is staffed primarily by me and my lovely wife
who has supported me throughout the process of making the project a success.
This coupled with 2 years research and tutorage by industry veterans has made it
possible to take dreams and turn them into realities.

We are eager to continue turning dreams into to realities. We decided to add to our goals movie making.
The idea is to partner with writers from the Anthology and start creating films
in the upcoming year.

Stay tuned, we will continue to plug away at this thing. Join the site if you haven’t already and share in the
community of like minded individuals of black science fiction.

Jarvis Sheffield

Administrator





www.BlackScieneFictionSociety.com


www.TheDigitalBrothers.com




www.GravesSheffield.com

Read more…

My Favorite Thing Right Now . . .


It's a year later, but I'm still rockin' out to Poetic Menace's (Marc Blackshear) "Coming of the First Born". It's still hot, just like Dreadlocks.

Go on over to Urban Style Comics and take a listen. And don't forget to check them out at Black Age of Comics in Chicago this October 8th - 9th.

"Who needs two eyes when the thirds' wide open?"
"Let the wicked of the earth be warned, the coming of the first born. "

Needless to say, I'm lovin' me some Dreadlocks!
Now if I could just get my eyes to glow like that.
Read more…

Ebook stats, and the Slush Pile...

I have my novel placed in about a dozen ebook sites, either for sale or for free download. Only half of these keep stats, but so far i have 845 copies of the book downloaded, and 494 times the novel has been viewed online. Granted, there are very few sales, but then, this is an ebook and the goal is exposure, so I'm happy with these numbers, for now.

---

On another front, I had a disturbing thought the other day - that the growing number of self-published novels in individual author sites and free (or low price) ebook sites, all clamoring for sales or reviews, is becoming the online manifestation of the ubiquitous 'slush pile,' destined to languish in electronic obscurity no matter how well written or received they may be, if the authors aren't pushing them at publishing companies. Am I included in this literary limbo?

I thought at first that because I didn't have the $500 or more for a professional editor or proofreader to comb through my manuscript, just having a single grammar or spelling error would condemn my novel forever, but looking around the blogosphere, I actually found some comfort.

What actually qualifies as slush or truly crappy writing? According to DustinM from 'Who Is Going to Read the Slush Pile?' at Blog Fiction:

By 'Crap', I don't mean stories that are trite or have characters that aren't "real". By Crap I mean major, awful, blunders. Things like:

* The Story isn't finished and stops either mid chapter or even mid-sentence
* Spelling and Grammar is so atrocious that it's hard to understand
* Blatant Plagiarism (word-for-word) or even more suble versions like (same story with changed names & dates)
* Doesn't match the story or description
* Huge logic or story blunders, like a character's name gets changed half way through the story.
* The story is missing either a beginning, middle, or end

That made me feel a lot better. So, going by that measure, really terrible writing should be easy enough to spot. In that case, just how much slush is actually in the 'slush pile'?

I found a couple encouraging points at Salon.com, in the letters section replying to a June 22nd article "When anyone can be a published author" by Laura Miller:


"Fears of slush are greatly overstated

I've read slush for a living before, and I've worked for a top five New York publisher. Almost all of it is obviously garbage two or three pages in, and can be summarily dismissed without much effort.

Personally, I'm all for the replacement of gatekeepers with tastemakers. There is a much lighter touch to the latter. Do the genuinely funny youtube videos have a hard time rising to prominence? Not that I've seen. Reading literary fiction certainly involves a greater investment of attention, but I'm confident the same dynamic can prevail.

—Sylvain "



"The Revolution will not go through Manhattan

This whole idea of the publishing industry being just a bunch of well-meaning literature lovers puttering around their tiny little cluttered NY offices is nonsense. Publishing is controlled by large multi-national conglomerates. The industry is driven by marketing. When the self-publishing revolution topples it, will there be bad books? Sure. (There are plenty of bad books now, so I don't see why we have to nod obediently when the publishing industry tells us that we don't know what we're talking about). Something else better will rise in its place.

Besides, pretty much every other art form has embraced DIY. Take music for example, you can write an album, play every instrument and sing, record and distribute and it yourself and nobody gives a shit about that, as long as it's good. Same for film and visual arts. Only in books is DIY a stigma. And I understand why: it is a direct threat to their business. And that is all.

—AchillesisCrying"


Ok, so I feel a lot less slushy now, at least until my book gets thoroughly molested by agents or prospective publishers regardless of the fans I've won so far. Cool...

Read more…

How We Can Promote Afro Speculative Fiction

A comment has been posted on the Internet about "How Should We Promote Black Sci-Fi?" I respond, "Writers of African speculative fiction could have a significant presence in the literary world if we use the Web correctly."

We must cross link. Meaning, use BSFS as the hub, but always, place web hyperlinks on your individual web sites to find other pages related to our genre. Google does a TERRIBLE job of finding links to African American speculative fiction or African American Science Fiction. Be sure to use appropriate meta tags on your web pages so that readers can find you.

Search for your web site frequently, and take action to improve your rankings.

Visit all our sites. See me here and at:

http://www.sbattle.com

http://ww.afroscifi.net

http://www.africanamericansciencefiction.com

If you are not listed, send me an email. I will list and promote your book or site for FREE.



Read more…