Tag: science fiction book series

Accolade – Chapter Four

December 2, 2020August 27, 2021
by Caleb Fast

Roland Dixon

Sector Four, Galatia

“It’s almost go time,” Flin Noble, reminds the group as they all huddle in a clearing, awaiting their signal.

No one really liked Flin, who is a thirty-something-year-old hunter who acts like one of those old men who assumes everyone else is incompetent. Flin had started tagging along nearly a year ago on Roland Dixon’s reconnaissance missions, which truly were just sporadic guerrilla missions. Flin had orders from Roland’s father, Kyle Dixon, the leader of their village, to watch out for Roland on his missions.

This is insane, Roland thinks for the millionth time that morning. Why his dad even allowed Roland enough freedom to try these hair-brained suicide missions, he would never know. Roland checks his jerry-rigged cannon once more, ensuring the shell was in fact all set for go time. He enjoyed the feeling of pride that welled up inside his chest after successful attacks, but every moment up to that was stressful. Despite his youth, all his stress had given Roland quite a few grey hairs, which he still couldn’t wear with pride. Roland lets out a shaking breath as he whispers to himself, “Just like last time,”

“What was that?” Julius Mallory asks from behind Roland. Roland had been with Julius as long as he could remember, Julius was always the first to support any idea Roland thought up. Julius stood several inches taller than Roland, was built like a tank. Julius commanded the respect of everyone around, yet he followed Roland like a good soldier. Why he was so willing to blindly follow orders, Roland wasn’t sure, but he respected the absolute allegiance and did his best to treat everyone who followed him well.

“I said, ‘Just like last time,’” Roland repeats with a stronger voice, he never let people know when his nerves were getting to him.

“Just like last time,” Julius repeats to himself, evidently also in need of the encouragement.

“Well, at least the last one didn’t shoot back,” Comes the always cheerful voice of Nick Corinth, another one of the six who are about Roland’s age. Nick was always the first to point out the bright side and to keep morale up. Roland couldn’t see how Nick kept his positivity, he had lost both his parents, three of his four siblings and every animal he ever took as a pet.

“Let’s hope this one doesn’t too,” Roland responds as he slowly nods his head. Never expecting anything to come easily, he continues, loud enough to be heard in the treetops, “How’s the perimeter Ki’etz?”

“Perimeter is good, Rolls,” Warren Ki’etz calls back down from his treetop perch. He and his twin sister Astrid always called Roland ‘Rolls,’ evidently, they liked the way it sounded.

The Ki’etz twins are some of the few off-worlders on Galatia, stranded after some malfunction led to his crash landing back when he was just a baby. Roland only had a few faint memories of that day, like watching a trail of smoke follow the ship as it crashed. Roland also remembered seeing teams going out to rescue everyone they could, but the twins were the only ones they brought back.

“Ash?” Roland calls to the treetops opposite of Warren to Astrid. He came up with the nickname a few years back on their first ‘mission’ where he and his group snuck out to hunt a hybrid one night. The group was huddled around a campfire trying their hands at camouflage and Astrid used some ashes for hers, and it stuck. Since then, Astrid always kept some charcoal streaks on her face. She insisted it made her look fiercer and she fondly called it her war paint.

“Clear,” Astrid calls down as she swings down from her treetop. As she makes her way down, she is silhouetted against the sun which is starting to peek through the dense canopy of trees. Nearing the ground, she lets go of the rope. She rolls as she hits the ground and quickly stands back up. This caught Roland’s attention because Astrid was nowhere near that graceful usually. With a brief glance toward Roland, she quickly walks away and takes a casual sip of water. Knowing that Roland was watching, she flips her blonde hair out of her face and continues, “Besides, the hybrids never bother us during the day. Not anymore at least.”

“Show off,” Haley Ryder mutters under her breath as she struggles to strap the last of the team’s supplies to one of their horses. Haley always did her best to ensure the team would be prepared for anything, so she’d busy herself prepping for quick getaways if things went south whenever she could. She decided that preparations were the only thing she could do since she physically couldn’t do much else.

Haley’s parents were the first of the growing population of exiled Domers. For some reason, the Coalition had started sending people outside of their walled cities about twenty years ago. Those exiles never lasted long outside of their walls since they never knew what to expect in the outside world. To complicate things, the Coalition started bombing survivors and exiles shortly after they were released. The steady stream of exiles since then allowed all of Roland’s people information about the cities, which was always valuable.

From what Roland had gathered, the Coalition refused to let their people know that they were not alone in the galaxy. Every exile was amazed when they learned that the Coalition isolated them inside of the Domes when there were countless other planets that could sustain them.

Roland, like all the exiles, had never been off Galatia. He wasn’t a Domer, he was born and raised out here in the wilds. But, the Coalition didn’t let people off-planet, and Roland intended to change that. He had seen several ships get shot down by the Coalition over the years while people tried to get off-planet. Some appeared to be Coalition ships, some didn’t, but none of them made it.

Every ship he and his team shot down promised more and more supplies to rebuild the remains of a starship Roland found in an abandoned spaceport several years back. He had been so excited when he found that ship because all of the crash sites from the ones he had seen the Coalition shoot down were beyond repair. There was rarely much of anything left.

“Here they come!” Warren calls down as he tears his attention away from his favorite binoculars, “You ready?”

“Ready,” Roland replies once he tears his eyes away from Astrid.

“Coming in from the southwest!” Warren reports.

“Southwest, got it,” Roland mutters, mostly to himself. Leaning over, Roland busies himself with the weapon he is about to use. He exhales slowly, trying to relax as he prepares to fire.

“Almost in range,” Warren reports expectantly, “Same type of ship as usual.”

“Got it,” Roland repeats with a slight smile. He would only need a couple more ships like this and he would be able to leave once and for all. Roland stares at the screen in front of him which is providing him with some readings from his cannon. The screen, like the rest of the gun, isn’t too well off. Half of the screen is dead, and the other half was pretty close to it.

“You got it?” Warren shouts from his perch.

“Got it!” Roland responds, just loud enough to be heard. As he spoke, his screen flashes indicating that the Coalition ship had come into view. Roland takes another breath to steady himself once more. Once he’s calm, he rests his finger on the weapon’s trigger. He takes a sharp breath and holds it in as he makes a final adjustment to his aim.

“What’s up with Astrid?” Flin asks, startling Roland.

“Shush!” Roland demands. Irritated, he turns back to the task at hand and manages to get let off a few poorly aimed shots at the passing ship.

“You got it!” Warren reports ecstatically.

“I told you to leave me be when I’m shooting!” Roland yells at Flin. He stands from the cannon and begins pacing angrily as he massages the bridge of his nose, “Why did my dad have to send you of all—”

“It’s not coming down!” Warren shouts, “You only took out one of their engines!”

“Now look at what you did!” Roland demands as he slams a fist through one of the wooden ammo crates that held the few remaining rounds they had for their cannon, “Not only did they get away, but we wasted what few rounds we had left!”

“I’m sorry,” Flin starts, “I was just—”

“No,” Roland cuts him off, “You’re done. Go home.”

“Your father told me—”

“I don’t care what my father told you. You are done. Go home.”

“But I—”

“Home,” Roland seethes.

“Sorry,” Flin whimpers before turning tail and making for the horses. He glances back at Roland once he is at his horse.

“Go!” Roland shouts angrily when he notices that Flin had paused, “I don’t need you, and I never will!”

Flin winces slightly at Roland’s harsh words but complies. That was one thing Flin was good at. He knew when he needed to make a swift getaway. Roland takes an unsteady breath before turning to the rest of his team. They all look to them expectantly, and also with a slight look of concern.

“Hey Rolls,” Warren starts as he slowly works his way out of the tree he was in, “Why don’t we move this thing before they send in a team to move it for us.”

“Good idea,” Roland nods, thankful for Warren giving him something else to focus on. That was one thing Warren was good at; he could read a situation and always find the best way out.

“That was a little harsh,” Haley whispers once everyone leaves her and Roland to break camp, “Wouldn’t you say?”

“He ruined my shot,” Roland reminds her as he shakes his head. Grabbing the ammo crate he had punched a hole in, he continues, “And I’ve told him a thousand times to leave me alone when I’m taking a shot!”

“But you never let him talk,” Haley points out.

“And why should I?” Roland counters as he slams his palms on the top of the crate, “The guy is the biggest pain I’ve ever met!”

“I’m sure he meant well,” Haley offers, “We all mess up sometimes.”

“You don’t,” Roland acknowledges. He shakes his head slightly as he continues, “Not anymore at least.”

“That’s because I hardly do anything anymore,” Haley mutters as she scowls slightly. Her scowl becomes a frown as she somberly adds, “I can hardly get dressed in the morning anymore, after that blasted attack.”

“But what you do is done well,” Roland offers, trying to console Haley.

Haley remains silent as she looks down at her tattered body. She was covered in scars and had lost several of her fingers. She was a lot better off now than she had been when Roland found her two years ago, but she was still bad off. She had been the only survivor of her group of Domers, the Coalition had killed the rest in some sick bombing run. If it wasn’t for Roland, she would be dead today.

“Rolls,” Warren calls from behind, “We cleaning up, or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Roland chuckles, allowing his mood to lift at Warren’s teasing. He starts lifting the ammo crate, but as he does so, it nearly disintegrates in his hands. Munitions and rotten pieces of wood shower to the ground. Grinding his molars and closing his eyes, Roland mutters, “Great,”

“It’s ok,” Haley offers as she slowly crouches down. Pain streaks across her face as she makes the move. She bites her lip before she slowly continues, “We… can clean this up.”

“Thanks,” Roland nods, knowing how much it hurt Haley to crouch like this. She wasn’t anywhere near as flexible as she used to be, thanks to all of the damage the bombing had done. With all of the tendons and ligaments that had been severed, it was a miracle she could move at all.

“Ready when you are, boss,” Astrid calls from behind. Roland glances back in time to see Astrid staring angrily at Haley who was on the ground with Roland. When she notices Roland looking at her, she snaps her attention away from Haley and nods at Roland. She then spins around and disappears into the foliage at the edge of their camp.

“We’re almost done here,” Roland reassures the others, “We have to save every round we have until we can salvage more from a wreck.”

“Need any help?” Julius offers when he sees Haley struggling to pick up much of anything. Because of her injuries, her fingers didn’t work very well. She would fumble around with anything for several seconds before she could get a hold of it. The struggle always served to frustrate her further and deepen the inner pain she was going through.

“Nope, we’ve got them all,” Roland announces as he bags the last round. He helps Haley to her feet as he closes his eyes as he mentally kicks himself for letting Haley help him.

“Alright, let’s mount up!” Nick calls out to the others gleefully. There were few things Nick loved more than riding his horse. As far as Nick was concerned, the faster he could go, and the denser the trees, the better.

“Let’s find a new spot for our gun!” Roland instructs the others before whistling for Haley’s horse. The horse trots over, and Roland plants Haley in the saddle before continuing, “After that, let’s see if we can ambush any teams the Coalition send looking for us!”

Take Me to Chapter Five

Take Me to the Home Page

Accolade

Accolade – Chapter Three

December 2, 2020January 14, 2022
by Caleb Fast

Gideon Lennox

Sector Three, Galatia

“Rise and shine, Mister Lennox,” a voice calls, drawing Gideon out of his sleep.

“What? Where am I?” Gideon demands as he sits up suddenly. He tries to swing himself out of the cot he is in, but finds himself strapped in at his wrists and ankles. He gives a half-hearted effort to free himself from the bindings. He sighs, knowing he can’t get himself free any time soon, at least not without something sharp.

“You’re on your way to Paradise,” the voice continues from a nearby speaker, which Gideon glares at.

“Paradise?” Gideon asks, only partially listening as he scans the whitewashed room around him. The room is almost entirely empty, save a tray on his right which has an array of medical gizmos and drugs. Along with the various tools are a syringe, which Gideon figures will serve as his sharp object. Sadly, no other pieces of equipment were sharp enough to cut himself loose.

“Yes, Paradise,” the voice answers after a brief pause, “Home of the Stalwart Project, congratulations on partaking in this monumental opportunity.”

“What happened?” Gideon asks. As he goes for the syringe, Gideon winces slightly as his bindings bite into the wrist he is reaching with.

“Your questions will be answered shortly,” the voice responds after another pause. Gideon then realizes the voice was probably one of those AIs that would be given only a handful of responses to a handful of questions. When they were asked something that they didn’t have a pre-written response for, the AIs would provide a vague response like the one he was just given.

“What is the Stalwart Program?” Gideon decides to continue asking questions to see what all he was allowed to know. He was curious to know about what was happening to him. As far as Gideon was concerned, he might as well keep the AI occupied as he busied himself with escaping. Gideon gives up on reaching for the syringe with his hand and resolves on trying to get it with his mouth. Straining against all of his bindings, he stretches his body, desperate for a chance to get free.

“The Stalwart Program was set in place two years ago as an effort to tame the wilds outside of civilization,” the AI answers, “By doing so, mankind might be able to retake the planet.”

“And why do we need to leave the Domes?” Gideon asks, briefly pausing from his attempts for the syringe. Gideon feels like he’s bobbing for apples, something he had learned he was very poor at from the various birthday parties he went to through the years. After quite a few attempts, the glass of the syringe finally finds itself between his teeth.

“Your questions will be answered shortly,” the AI answers.

“How shortly?” Gideon asks, dropping the syringe to his waiting hand from his mouth as he lays himself back down. He quickly begins breaking the threads of his bindings with the tip of the syringe.

“Your questions will be answered shortly.” the AI repeats.

“Why am I tied up?” Gideon inquires as he tests the weakened fabric on his wrist. When the cloth holds firm against his efforts, Gideon returns to breaking the individual threads of his bindings with his needle.

“For your safety,” the AI sounds.

“My safety?” Gideon asks, bemused. He tests the fabric again and manages to rip his arm free as quietly as possible. He then feverously sets to work on freeing his other hand.

“Yes, the journey to Paradise can often be treacherous,” the AI answers.

“How treacherous?” Gideon continues questioning the AI. He quickly frees his left hand and busies himself with untying his ankles.

“It is impossible to travel between compounds and cities without adequate transport.” the AI offers.

“What is it like? Like, what are the wilds like?” Gideon excitedly asks. He genuinely wanted to find out what it was like outside of the Dome. He wanted to discover if his dreams are at all accurate to the world beyond the walls. Seconds later, Gideon frees his feet and he swings them to the floor. To Gideon, the cold tiles underfoot feel a lot nicer than the bindings had. He quickly stands and makes his way toward the sole door leading into the room he is in.

“The wilds are an untamed land, set to be colonized by the Stalwarts.” the AI answers simply, filling Gideon with even more questions.

“What’s a Stalwart supposed to be anyways?” Gideon asks as he tests the handle on the door. Locked, but it was still worth a try, He thinks as he turns back the tray of tools. Browsing his selection, he wonders what he could use as an improvised screwdriver to remove the handle. He had never learned how to pick a lock, per se, but he did know how to take apart a door.

“A Stalwart is a capable young adult,” the AI begins in what seems to be some sort of speech, “They are unlike those they grew up with. They are, in one way or another, stronger, faster, smarter. Their strength is what made the Governor set them aside as Stalwarts. They are the strongest of humanity. Their purpose is to retake the wilds of the planet.”

“Good speech,” Gideon compliments the AI in a mocking tone as he chuckles. Clearly, the AI didn’t read my file, Gideon thinks as he leans against the cot he was in. Once again, he takes an inventory of everything on the tray. I’m a dangerous criminal now, after all. Gideon laughs aloud at the absurdity of his last thought.

Just a day ago he had been a law-abiding student. No, he wasn’t the best student—he made sure of that much—but he wasn’t one to break the rules. Now, he was marked as a criminal for doing who knows what.

Gideon had never questioned the government, he had always figured those who did were mentally unstable. Now that he had seen a glimpse of the dark side of the Coalition, Gideon found himself questioning everything he had once held as true. After a few beats, Gideon then asks a question that had been bothering him for a few minutes now, “How many other Stalwarts are there in this place called Paradise?”

“There are currently two hundred other youths in the Stalwart Program of Paradise. You will be the thirtieth member of a team that will be mobilized shortly.” the AI answers.

“Their team?” Gideon prods as he jerry-rigs a screwdriver out of the packaging for one of the various drugs. Gideon returns to the door and sets about unscrewing its handle.

“The Stalwart Program encourages teamwork to overcome the wilderness,” The AI begins, “Stalwarts are expected to complete all training activities as a coherent unit.”

“How long until we are sent into the wilds?” Gideon asks as he pops the first screw out of the door handle.

“The Stalwarts will be sent into the wilderness on the fourteenth of April at 18:00 hours,” The AI answers.

“Wait, what?” Gideon asks, stopping dead in his tracks. Before he had fallen asleep, it had been the thirteenth, and he was fairly certain that he had slept through the night. Concerned, he then asks the AI, “Isn’t today the fourteenth?”

“Yes,” The AI responds simply.

“So, I’m going to be sent out with the others in just a few hours?” Gideon asks in alarm. His fear causes him to have to slow down on unscrewing the remaining screw so he can steady his hands. He takes a deep breath and finishes off the screw, now focusing on silently removing the handle so he can escape.

“That is correct, Mister Lennox,” The AI replies.

“Won’t I get any training before I’m thrown out there?” Gideon demands as he silently sets the locking mechanism onto the hard tiles.

“That is correct,” The AI responds.

“Just a few hours of training, great. Not like my life depends on it,” Gideon complains as he removes the door’s latch and sets it next to the lock and handle. He smiles as he remembers the first time he took apart a door handle to get out of a locked room.

Gideon had been five when his dad had first shown him his way around a door, or more accurately, through a door. That lesson had been one of many where Gideon learned all of his dad’s tricks with common household objects. Ever since Gideon had gotten into high school, he hadn’t been able to spend much time with his father. His dad was at work nearly every day and into the night, he was almost never home. All he would tell Gideon was that the city needed him to do his job to keep everyone safe. Gideon was told his dad did maintenance all around the city. Because of his job, Gideon’s dad knew all the ins and outs of the city’s operation and would share interesting tidbits that he picked up on the job when he wasn’t asleep.

What Gideon was taught, he held on to. Every lesson his dad taught him he applied to his surroundings. From all the tricks his dad taught him, Gideon quickly became the best in class for all the hands-on projects his teachers threw at him. His career counselor told him that because of his skills, he would be admitted to one of the planet’s technical schools. His counselor would always tell him, ‘That’s just the start, the heavens are the limit for you!’ Gideon didn’t know why she said that ‘the heavens are the limit,’ when most everyone said ‘the sky’s the limit.’ However, he had always let it slide, ‘People are quirky,’ he’d tell himself.

Gideon eases the door open and slides out silently. Outside of his room, Gideon finds himself in a cramped corridor with all sorts of wires and pipes running alongside the perforated steel walkway. A host of blinking colorful lights illuminate the catwalk from beneath the floor panels and Gideon finds himself completely lost. Turning left, Gideon starts down the corridor, figuring he would stumble across something eventually.

After wandering for far too long, Gideon finds himself underneath a sign which read Maintenance and he slips through, unable to fight the urge to check out this particular room. He had passed several other rooms in his exploration of what he now believes is a Coalition hovercraft, one of the big ones he occasionally saw on the Founders’ Day celebration every Eighth of August.

“Can’t believe we are doing this again,” a voice resounds from down the narrow corridor Gideon is about to enter. The voice echoes off of the many metallic surfaces in the hovercraft. Gideon was surprised he could hear the comment above the constant hum of the engines. Gideon gently eases the door shut behind himself as he quickly searches for signs of whoever had spoken.

“Please, not this again,” comes a quiet plea from someone else.

Gideon continues down the corridor, assumedly away from the voices. He has to resist the temptation to eavesdrop, which was something he had always struggled with. After all, why would someone talk loud enough for others to hear, if they didn’t want everyone to know what they were saying?

“We are exiling children and telling them that they are soldiers!” the first voice continues with its protests, “And it’s all for what? Keeping the streets free of kids being kids?”

“You know we shouldn’t be having this conversation…” the second voice warns. Gideon stops at the base of a ladder and looks up to what appears to be daylight, pausing, he gives in to his urge to listen in on the duo which are somewhere behind him.

“Or what? They’ll send us out too?” the first voice demands.

“I don’t know what, Clo. I don’t ask questions,” the second voice responds after a thoughtful pause.

“Don’t you, ‘I don’t know, Clo,’ me,” the first voice who must belong to Clo promptly fires back. Judging by the tone of voice, Gideon imagines that Clo could have delivered her retort with a scornful look and hands on her hips. Gideon can’t help a slight grin from spreading across his face as he hears the other person struggle for a response.

“Well I- it’s just… it isn’t my place to know everything,” the second voice eventually pieces its response together.

Gideon flies up the ladder that leads between him and the daylight above. Once at the top, he hoists himself out of the opened service hatch and into an open cabin which is illuminated by several large windows along one wall.

“It doesn’t have to be your place for you to be curious, Jackson,” Clo chides, “Sometimes you just need to know some things.”

“You’ve said as much before…” the second voice which must belong to Jackson reminds Clo.

Gideon tunes out all the noises around him as he walks toward the windows as if he was in a trance. One step at a time he feels his eyes grow wider and wider as he takes in the outside world.

“It’s everything I dreamed it was,” Gideon whispers to himself, awestruck by the sight, he continues with a chuckle “I wonder how big those trees are up close…”

Gideon watches the forests race below him for several moments before he allows his eyes to wander to the white peaks of mountains along the horizon. The only landscapes he had ever seen like this were in pictures from old storybooks, Gideon finds himself speechless as he takes it all in for the first time. Strange straight scars in the treetops crisscross through the forest below, disappearing into the distance in every direction. Whatever the lines were, they had to of had a purpose. Before long, a blue river enters Gideon’s field of vision and he fixates on it. At peace, Gideon’s eyes follow the winding blue thread’s tail back to the mountains as far as he can track it.

Gideon begins walking toward the front of the ship, figuring he could figure out what was happening a lot easier there. The whole time, he refuses to take his eyes off of the beauty outside that he had been starved of for his entire life. The expanse of greenery below him goes on for what seems like forever, hemmed in only by the mountains that Gideon can only describe as majestic.

Gideon catches his breath as he realizes that he hadn’t even seen the sky before, and his eyes turn to the heavens. The sky holds a gentle aqua blue and whispers of white clouds dot the skies as far as Gideon can see. The sun shines with a slight green tint and Gideon presses his hand against the window to feel its warmth. Closing his eyes, Gideon smiles broadly as the familiar feeling of peace from his dreams fills him.

“I remember my first time,” a feminine voice says from behind Gideon after several moments, starling him. Gideon swings around and stares the intruder in the eyes as he contemplates whether he should talk, fight, or run. The intruder continues as she casually approaches the window next to Gideon, “It all looks so peaceful from up here,”

Gideon swallows a lump in his throat as he stutters, “W-who are you?”

“I am Commander Hayes, and this is my ship,” the woman, Commander Hayes, responds. She continues staring out at the world beyond the window absently for a few moments. Eventually, she chuckles and continues, “And you, Mister Lennox, are not supposed to be up here,”

“Well, I-uh,” Gideon starts, unsure of what he should say.

“Don’t worry about it, we have bigger matters to attend to.”

“Like what?”

“Your training,”

“Oh, right,” Gideon sighs as he remembers what the AI had said about the limited training he would receive.

“It isn’t that bad, you’ll pull through,” Hayes says as she taps Gideon’s shoulder encouragingly.

Gideon tries not to roll his eyes as he wonders if this woman had even seen the outside world up close like he was about to. No amount of encouragement could overcome Gideon’s fear that the beasts from beyond the Dome were as terrifying as those in his dreams. With all of the attention that his drawing attracted, Gideon found himself terrified. No weak attempt of telling himself the creatures weren’t as horrifying as the image could convince him otherwise. He was doomed.

He silently follows Commander Hayes as she leads him down a corridor that branches off from where they had been. Gideon had entertained the thought of making a run for it but decided it would be best if he made the most of his time here. He figured that he had no real chance of escaping the craft, so that meant his next best bet was to stay alive long enough for his next opportunity.

“Now, I know things don’t look so hot for you in your eyes, but I am here to help you all I can while you’re here,” Hayes tells Gideon in a hushed voice, losing her previous formality, “I want you to pull through, and to help keep the others alive, especially my daughter.”

Gideon looks to the Commander skeptically, his interest piqued. Why would a Coalition Commander have her daughter taken? He wonders, A nameless kid like me, sure, but the daughter of a Commander? Phew.

“Yes, my daughter is part of the program,” Hayes cedes, guiding Gideon into a brightly lit room which, like the rest of the ship, is lightly furnished. All Gideon can see is two chairs and a small table which is ladened with a large assortment of supplies. Hayes stops at the table and picks up a length of rope, “Now, let’s get to it,”

“Who is your daughter?” Gideon asks as he takes some rope of his own and slowly matches the Commander’s quick movements as she tangles the rope up in seemingly no pattern.

“You’ll know,” she says simply. Smiling, she holds up the tangle of rope she had made and announces, “This is a snare, it’s good for catching small game, almost useless for the bigger things out there though.”

“The bigger things?” Gideon asks, trying not to sound as scared as he truly was.

“From what I hear, you know what they look like,” Hayes says as she reaches over and straightens out Gideon’s rope, helping him finish his own snare. Once she rescues his attempt, she nods with a smile. After noting Gideon’s look of confusion and concern, she offers, “Want to watch me do it again?”

“Please,” Gideon says embarrassed. He had never been the best at tying knots. Even tying his shoes took him years to finally figure out, it wasn’t until intermediary school that he finally figured it out. He matches Hayes’ slower movements and smiles as the tangle of rope makes more sense this time around.

“You’re picked that up fast,” Hayes praises Gideon after he ties a snare on his own. Pausing, she continues weaving the rope in a different way, “How about this one?”

Gideon silently matches the Commander’s movements through several different knots. He can’t help but smile as he figures one knot after the other. Maybe I’ll be able to make it out there at this rate, He thinks confidently.

Take Me to Chapter Four

Take Me to the Home Page

Accolade

Accolade – Chapter Two

December 2, 2020December 3, 2020
by Caleb Fast

Maverick Gracian

Paradise, Galatia

“Congratulations, you have shown that you are capable young adults,” A recording wakes Maverick Gracian from another restless nights’ sleep.

“Why me?” Maverick whispers to himself in defeat. He looks over to a clock on the other side of the room and sees that it is five in the morning. He was getting tired of the early mornings and hoped against all hope that he would be able to rest soon. But, after three months of the early mornings, he was getting used to it.

“You are all unlike those you grew up with, you are, in one way or another, stronger, faster, smarter. Your strength is what made the governor set you all aside as Stalwarts, the strongest of humanity. Your purpose is to retake the wilds of the planet.” The recording continues, waking the barracks’ occupants for the final time.

They only had a few more hours behind the safety of Paradise’s walls. The recording goes on for a little while, telling of several more things, but Maverick couldn’t make out the words over everyone’s voices, which wasn’t uncommon. They didn’t care what the Coalition had to tell them. It was the Coalition that sent them here, this waypoint on their way to their certain deaths.

“Ah, shut up,” Maverick complains, throwing one of his boots at a nearby speaker. He swings his legs over the side of his bunk and hops down from the top bunk.

“Every stupid morning…” Tyson O’Connell complains, holding his pillow over his head to block out the same old Coalition anthem, which always follows the wakeup call.

“There we go,” Jake Hendrix says once the music shuts off, several minutes short of the full anthem. He stands from a wall panel he removed to cut the audio cables yet another time. Jake’s struggle against the early morning wakeup call had been going on since he had arrived. Every morning Jake would cut the wires, they would be fixed during the day, and then Jake would cut them again at lights out. Unfortunately, the base’s staff was quick to repair the cut wires, and other vandalized equipment.

“Mister Hendrix,” The Stalwart Project’s Director, Marissa Stone, says as she steps into the barracks, “Why do you have to do this every day?”

“Because I want to sleep, Warden,” Jake says simply, using the group’s nickname for the director as he replaces the wall panel. They had called her ‘Director’ up until Maveric joined them and nicknamed her ‘Warden.’ He leans up against the panel and continues, “On top of that, I just want to go home and be done with all this.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Director Stone chides, “You were sent here for a reason, we can’t just throw that away,”

“Why can’t we?” Jake mumbles, “We got thrown away,”

“What was that, Mister Hendrix?” Director Stone asks in a tone that told the group she had heard the comment and was very unhappy.

“Nothing, Warden,” Jake surrenders, knowing it was always best to just give in to the Director. Several kids in the past had stood up to the Director, and, as the story went, they were sent home. The thing was, none of those kids ever actually made it home. One way or another, something led to their disappearances.

“Good,” Director Stone smiles. Spinning on her heels, she continues stepping out of the barracks, “You are expected to complete an eight-mile run through the compound’s environment simulation before this afternoon. The final member of your team will be joining you today during lunch today.”

“What about breakfast?” Tyson asks, concern in his voice. Tyson is one of the kids who needed food about as often as he needed to breath, a real black hole for food whenever it was around.

“Find some in the sim,” The Director calls back mockingly. She had recently started using the group’s term ‘sim’ which was short for the endless simulations they were forced to go through, “We trained you to find food, put it to good use.”

“I hate that woman,” Maverick mutters once he is confident she is out of earshot, “That’ll be the only perk to being stuck outside of the wall, we’ll be far away from her.”

“You said it,” Sylvia Hayes calls from her corner of the barracks, Gideon watches her as she gracefully hops down from her top bunk.

Sylvia had reserved her bunk, along with the one below her to ensure that she could always monitor everything going on. Maverick suspected Sylvia also kept the bunk below her empty, so she didn’t have to be any closer to anyone else than she had to. Sylvia had ensured that she was an outsider, and she seemed to like it that way. She even concealed her last name from the others. Maverick was told that she revealed that her name was Sylvia a few months back, long after she had arrived. Why she kept so much to herself, Maverick couldn’t be sure, but he was happy she didn’t keep everything from him, as she did with the rest. He must have made a good impression in his first few days.

Some nights, when the lights in the barracks were out, people would start whispering. They would share their deepest fears, thoughts, and hopes, emboldened by the darkness and its anonymity. Most everyone agreed in those darkened discussions that Sylvia would be the best off outside of the wall. Something about her just made everyone feel like she would be better off than they were, they would also ramble on as the hours passed and usually would start talking about how Maverick and Sylvia ought to get together.

The first night Maverick heard them start in on that, he had listened carefully. After all, he was curious as to why they thought he and Sylvia should be a couple. At the end of it, he found himself torn. On the one hand, they were right, the two of them did get along better than all the rest in the compound. They seemed to be cut from the same cloth too, which made it even easier to get along with each other. But, on the other hand, Maverick wasn’t here to get into a relationship. He was here to learn to survive, and how to lead the others as best he could to keep them alive too. Survival was his mission, not frivolous emotions.

But they do have a point, The unshakable thought resurfaces in Maverick’s head, Sylvia and I would be a great match. Maverick shakes his head, trying to get the thought out of his head. He had known Sylvia for a while now, and he had to admit he was very impressed by everything she did. She could be dancing during their rare Friday night rec or be chugging the compound’s filthy brown tap water and look good doing it.

Maverick had resolved to just avoid looking at her after he had first overheard what everyone thought. No need to encourage gossip like Maverick falling for one of his teammates. The problem, however, was that no matter what he did, Sylvia still ended up being everywhere he looked. Occasionally Maverick would steal a glance in her direction, and she would sneak a glance back, they would both blush and sheepishly look away. Sylvia’s embarrassed grin which would peek through her dark, untamable bang always drove Maverick crazy. Someone always noticed, and that always resulted in another night of talks about he and Sylvia in the barracks after lights out.

“Alright love birds, we got business to attend to,” Meghan Capernaum taunts Maverick and Sylvia who quickly break their eye contact and get back to gathering their belongings to get ready before the day. Meghan proceeds to lead the way to their locker rooms, and everyone slowly follows her lead.

“Dude, you’ve gotta say something to her,” Jake whispers, elbowing Maverick as Sylvia steps out with a bundle of clothes under her arm, “We don’t have much longer here, so you have to make the most of it!”

“Or I could focus on what we should be doing,” Maverick counters, grabbing his toothbrush and starts heading for the doorway, “Besides, I don’t want to be on the Warden’s bad side.”

“She has a good side?” Jake asks jokingly as they round the corner out of their barracks into the open, humid air of Paradise.

“Well, I guess she has a less bad side,” Maverick offers with a shrug. He stops dead in his tracks and takes a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air, “You know man, this air definitely beats the air back at home. It’s actually fresh.”

“What are you talking about?” Jake asks, skeptically shaking his head, “You’re weird man. Real weird.”

“Come on, you’ve never just enjoyed the clean air?”

“Nope, air is air,”

“Nevermind then,” Maverick cedes, walking the rest of the way to the Stalwart locker room in silence.

Take Me to Chapter Three

Take Me to the Home Page

Accolade

Accolade – Chapter One

December 2, 2020December 3, 2020
by Caleb Fast

Gideon Lennox

Leburt, Galatia

Everyone dreams of leaving the protection of the Dome at least once. They literally dream of leaving the Dome. However, there is an unspoken rule that you are to never, ever, share your dream. Gideon Lennox had dreamt many times of the “other side” as some referred to it. Of course, they never spoke of the dreams, instead, it was just wishful thinking of finally getting out.

Because of this rule Gideon refused to mention the dreams to anyone. The only time Gideon had even heard a whisper of an “other side” dream, was a kid from his old neighborhood, he described a barren landscape where even plants couldn’t grow. He told the neighborhood kids that as he walked in his dream through the desert he found skeletons piled high. Gideon remembered shuddering at the thought of piles of the dead. That the next day, his parents told him the kid was dead.

Every one of Gideon’s dreams of the outside of the Dome were very different from the kid’s. Every night, Gideon dreams of forests teeming with trees which tower overhead as they reach for the sky. He finds himself alone in serene meadows with rolling hills and colorful, delicate wildflowers which sway gently in the warm breeze. Gideon wanders through abandoned cities that have been reclaimed by the wilderness around them as trees and foliage line the roadways and contribute to the city’s skyline. No matter where Gideon finds himself, he feels a calmness, he feels at peace, and he wonders why he would ever want to return to the ordered chaos of the Dome. After those thoughts pass through his head, the dream ends with unnatural shrieks and occasionally a flash of movement as some creature races in front of him. The misshapen creatures were always terrifying enough to wake him up to a cold sweat.

“Mister Lennox,” Gideon hears his professor’s voice, snapping him back to attention.

“Yes, sir?” Gideon asks, looking up.

“I asked you what caused the Inundation?”

Gideon pauses for a moment as he recalls the previous day’s lesson, rehearsing the key points in his head, The Inundation was, in a nutshell, the overrunning of civilization as humanity once knew it. Because of it, millions died, and those who survived could only do so under domes like ours, protected from the dangers of the outside world. We never were taught what these dangers are, maybe radiation from the nuclear bombs that decimated much of the world, no one knows for sure, it seems.

“Gid?” Maveric Marcel, Gideon’s best friend, prods, interruption his thought process.

“Well, back in 2170 animal testing had finally come back to bite mankind in the butt. The animals mutated and spread across the planet in a matter of months. No one could hold them off, those who managed to survive the blight built our domes.”

“Very good,” Professor Grayson applauds Gideon’s textbook answer. Closing his book, Grayson continues addressing the class, “Now, give me an exit note on why you think the ‘blight,’ as mister Lennox calls it, spread so quickly.”

Gideon looks down to his paper, a thousand reasons running through his head before his brain stops entirely. In front of him is a picture of what he had been seeing in his dreams for years. He had drawn it as his brain wandered in class. Up until that moment, he hadn’t put all of the brief images together to create one beast. Now that he saw it all together everything began to click, This must be one of the mutants that helped destroy everything! Gideon thinks excitedly. Its mangy fur, rat-like face and tail, and ape-ish arms send shivers down his spine. Behind the grotesque creature stand the remains of a large structure and nearly a hundred years’ worth of plant life.

Gideon shuffles through his backpack, looking for another sheet of paper since over half of this one was now devoted to a creature that appears to want his soul. Finding no extra paper, Gideon gives up and begins writing around the edges of his picture. Surely Professor Grayson wouldn’t mind, I’ve turned in a million assignments with doodles and drawings decorating every corner. In fact, he has told me on several occasions he likes them, Gideon thinks. As he writes, Gideon makes sure to include how the transport systems across the planet made for easy transmission of the mutated animals planetwide. Satisfied with that summation, he continued on to how birds also helped spread the virus that then led to the mutations of the animals everywhere.

Gideon finishes his short essay as the bell rings, making his way to the door, he hands over his paper. Just five more days until I was done with school and could begin my life, Gideon thinks as he steps out of the classroom into the hallway which is alive with the usual end of the year buzz.

•••••••••••••••

Gideon finds himself sitting in a cold metal chair in a damp room, a bag over his head and handcuffs tight against his wrists. He can feel the moisture in the air, and the heat of his breath quickly dissipate in the cold room. Gideon has been in here for a few hours after some men told him they were police and wanted to ask him some questions.

They had led Gideon to a large truck, put this smelly old bag over his head, and took him to wherever this place was. Gideon knew he was in a basement because they led down several flights of stairs—a feat for not being able to see where one is stepping. They led him through several corridors, and finally into this room. What do they want? Gideon thinks, still unable to slow his heart rate after all these hours, Maybe they want information on the disappearance of several of my friends last year, I don’t know much about that though… Suddenly the door to the room squeals open and Gideon listens to the intruder’s heavy footsteps and equally as heavy breathing followed by another set of much quieter set of feet.

“Do you know why you’re here mister Gideon Reagan Lennox?” The man with the heavy breathing inquires in a menacing voice, much like the police in cop shows who finally caught the villain they had been hunting their whole career.

“N-no, sir,” Gideon stammers, nervous.

“Agent Craig, the hood,” The heavy breathing man says. as he spoke, Gideon feels the bag getting pull away and he finally gets to see the whole room. The room is dark, and puddles of what he hopes is water dominate much of the floor space. The only light in the room is a lonely flickering fluorescent tube, its accompanying tube likely went out ages ago. Before Gideon sits a fat man whose face seems to be stuck in a look of contempt with a dash of sadness. Gideon begins turning to the other agent to see who he was when he fat man speaks again, “Don’t look at him, look at me. You’re the one in trouble, not him.”

“I’m in trouble? I’m sorry, what did I do?” Gideon asks, his mind racing for any even minor laws he might have broken.

“Is this yours?” The fat man shows Gideon the paper he had turned into Professor Grayson and sets it on the table between us.

“Yes…” Gideon looks at it, then at the fat man, wondering how a drawing could get him arrested, “How did you get that? And what does that have to do with all this?” Gideon motions to the handcuffs and points with his chin around the room.

“We monitor schools for students who make stuff like this, and everything else that threatens the state.”

“Threatens the state? How does a doodle do that?”

“You and I both know this is more than just a doodle,”

“What are you talking—”

“How do you know what a mutant looks like?”

“I don’t, it’s just a—”

“How do you know?” The fat man’s face grows a deep red, he looks ready to strangle someone, a look Gideon had only seen one other time, a few years back.

Gideon had only been fourteen the first time he got that look. He got it from a girl’s dad after bringing her home hours after curfew. Looking back, Gideon had some sympathy for the dad, but in the moment, he couldn’t understand why he didn’t buy our story. The school dance had finished on time, and everything had gone well. The girl–he distinctly remembers her name being Sarah—and Gideon had gotten some food right after the dance, and then headed right for her house. He had intended to avoid any negative conversations with her dad about anything. As far as Gideon was concerned, if the dad had nothing against him, then that was as close as he’d get to being liked by him. But that goal didn’t pan out.

The two were late because the district she lived in was behind barricades. Soldiers marched every which way, and they heard crashes in the distance. Of course, they were still young, so they hopped over the barricades and investigated. Remaining unseen, they scampered behind all the cover they could find. They could have made it to Sarah’s home, but they were both more interested in checking out what all the commotion was for. The two had watched as soldiers raided the district’s nuthouse, which was butted up against the wall of the Dome.

They had watched as the soldiers marched people out, some in patients’ garb, some in doctors’ uniforms, and then others in tattered rags unfit for a beggar. They were all lined up, and Gideon and Sarah watched as each person was talked to by a woman in black. Each person was handed a piece of paper. As each finished reading the note, their heads had dropped, and their expressions grew dark. Soldiers lined up opposite of them, their guns leaning against their shoulders.

Gideon and Sarah had been so intent on watching what was happening, that they hadn’t noticed a man come up behind them. Sarah screamed when he tapped her shoulder, but he had tried to calm them. He had been wearing one of the orange patient uniforms, he had a veteran insignia on this shoulder, and across his chest, Corridor 13 was printed in black. Gideon remembered how he had quickly told us ‘There’s more out there than what they tell you…’ the patient had started, Gideon remembers the patient had been fairly lucid, but he slipped as he continued, ‘Always more… cities. Kingdoms. Dragons. Beware the king. Watch for his troops. They came in the night… Goodbye Captain Gregory… good night…’ Gideon remembered those words vividly, and they still echoed through his mind most every day.

Of course, all the soldiers had heard Sarah scream, and they came running. He and Sarah were a few steps ahead, and managed to get away, voices calling for them from behind. After that, they returned to the other side of the barricades, and waited until the district was open again. Gideon had looked for Sarah the next day at school, but she wasn’t there. He had visited her house after school but found charred ruins where it once stood.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Gideon starts, preparing to tell a truth he was sure would get me locked up.

“I’ve heard everything from desperate kids,” The fat man lights a cigarette as he leans back in a folding chair. Surprisingly it held his generous weight, but with every move he made, it squeals in protest. He takes a deep breath through his cigarette and releases the blueish cloud directly into Gideon’s face.

Gideon holds his breath, and feels his eyes water, as he struggles not to cough. He watches as the smoke gathers around the flickering light above him. Gideon takes a cautious breath once the smoke is out of his face, and starts, “That thing there comes from my dreams… I’ve had dreams of them for years now, this is the first time I’ve drawn one though. I—”

“You know what I think?” The fat man interrupts, he continues, clearly not wanting an answer, “I think you’ve been sneaking out of the Dome, seeing things you shouldn’t.”

“What? No, I’ve never—” Gideon starts to protest, he didn’t even know there was a way out of the city. Other than the military-run checkpoints, everything was supposed to be just about impenetrable.

“It’s really too bad too,” The fat man continues, once again raising his voice over Gideon’s, “Your teacher had good things to say about you, and your records show you could have been a shining citizen.”

“But I’ve done nothing wrong,”

“Sure, you have. You’ve seen more than you should have, that’s a crime kid.”

“Dreaming is a crime?”

“Sure, it is. Well, kid, your ‘dreams’ have made me miss my dinner date, and I would like to just get home now. So, just tell me, where have you been sneaking out, and who with?”

“No one! Honestly, they are just dreams.” Gideon whimpers, nearly begging. He bites his tongue as he tries to not ask how an angry fat man could get a date with anyone in the city.

“Kid, I really don’t have time for this,” The fat man mutters as he struggles out of his seat. He pulls out his gun, and spins its chamber threateningly as he continues, “It would be a shame if you didn’t tell us and you happened to not be able to go home today. Not say your goodbyes to your family. A shame, indeed.”

“What are you talking about?” Gideon demands, knowing he is being blackmailed, “I have never gone outside of the dome, much less with anyone else!”

“Enough,” A woman’s voice reverberates from a speaker, Gideon looks to the two-way mirror on his right, assuming the woman is behind it as she continues, “The Governor has requested mister Lennox be enrolled in the Stalwart Program. No further questioning the boy, agent.”

The fat man’s jaw muscles flex, and Gideon can see he is angered by the request. Nonetheless, he stands as silently as his generous figure allows, and wordlessly exits the room. Close behind, the one he called Agent Craig retreats as well. As the two exit, the light in the room is shut off. Gideon finds himself absolutely alone. He tries to stay awake, but after several hours of the darkest darkness he had ever been in, he can’t help but nod off.

Take Me to Chapter Two

Take Me to the Home Page

Accolade

Accolade – Home Page

December 2, 2020July 9, 2021
by Caleb Fast

Accolade is the book that sees an additional chapter added with every newsletter that is sent out to my Newsletter. Updates to the story on my site lag behind as I like to give my subscribers a head start over everyone else. If you’d like the join my newsletter, you can sign up through this link.

Overview

Accolade takes place in the year 2249 on a planet you may recognize from another book or two–Galatia.

41 years before my first series: The Limit of Infinity, there was a lot of groundwork that had to be laid down to stoke a rebellion.

The Coalition government of Galatia has been spinning tales for years in order to keep its people docile.

Many thousands of people are living under fortified Domes, cut off from the wilds beyond. Wilds that are teaming with hybrid monsters that are the culmination of years of cruel experimentation.

The outside world has to be tamed and to do so, the Coalition has decided children are their best bet. The “best of the best” have been set aside to take part in something they call the “Stalwart Program.” A program that trains and arms teens and young adults to go to war against the savage animals beyond the walls of the Domes they grew up under.

Accolade follows the journey of three young men who help to get the Resistance movement going.

(Click the Chapter you would like to navigate to and it will open up for you.)

Note: For ease of navigation and reading, I’ve combined Chapter Parts (i.e. Part One and Part Two) to one single chapter.

Also Note: Changes are ongoing here, this is a big project! Bear with me! 🙂

Free Book Previews

Renaissance: The Limit of Infinity (Preview)

April 14, 2020June 13, 2020
by Caleb Fast

By Caleb Fast

Prelude

Northern Union, Earth

Lighting danced on the horizon as the Korolya Ptitsya lumbered over the Bering Strait. Martin Ranger watched as water spattered upon the cockpit windows of the outdated shuttle. Looking about the cockpit, Martin saw the patched remnant of a World War Four transport. Tools lay strewn about, many repair jobs were left partially done, and wires hung soldered together so many times they were unrecognizable.

Martin chuckled as he thought the wires looked more like the art from before the Third World War than they ought to have. The two Russian pilots, veterans of the Northern Union’s most recent civil war, sat in silence, keeping a watchful gaze on the gauges before them because the indication lights had long since gone out, or been salvaged for use elsewhere.

Once more, Martin found himself chuckling as he wondered why he even paid money for this flight back to Dallas. Sure, he did want back with his son, but he thought it would be better if he made it in one piece, this hulking junker was a death trap.

The lights flickered and the Korolya Ptitsya shuttered as it dove for the dark water below, the lights then died out altogether. Only the occasional lightning strike lit the cockpit, revealing that the two pilots seemed to be perfectly calm. Martin grabbed hold of his armrests and checked his harness for the hundredth time. He listened as the engines growled in protest to the pilot’s’ attempts to restart it. It had already stalled twice, but those were above land.

Sputtering, and wheezing, the engines finally turned over. Most of the lights flicked back on and everyone relaxed a bit. Martin lets out the breath he had been holding and he looked around the cockpit once more. Sure enough, everything seemed to still be at least partially working.

“Spokoynoy nochi,” Martin said to the pilots as he struggled against his safety harness. Breaking free from its stone grip Martin exited the cockpit.

Right before the doors slide all the way shut, Martin heard the copilot said something about “Outworlders” and “Beauty sleep”

With a laugh, Martin tried to recall a few of the directions the pilot had given him, as he searched among the crates and countless dead ends that made up the bulk of the ship’s cargo bay.

Eventually, as if by a miracle, he finally found himself in the passenger area. He looked at the sad faces of the sleeping refugees from all over Northern Europe as he made his way down the narrow aisle, occasionally tripping over an outstretched leg in the dark. After a far too long, Martin slid into his personal quarters.

Being wealthy, Martin had decided he wanted a cot and not just a seat to sleep in. He seldom splurged on much of anything, other than his travel arrangements. It was a nine-hour flight from Arkhangelsk, to Dallas, thanks to all the pit stops along the way. Once Martin was in Dallas, he would be off to his family, in Königsberg on the planet Vinn. Martin smiled as he thought of the first-class accommodations he would have for the rest of his trip.

Sitting on the threadbare sheets of the cot—which actually was just several boxes pushed together—Martin opened his suitcase and took out his dated laptop. His father had told him many times the countless stories that this laptop had lived through. He told him how it was good luck and would bring him home. He had told Martin of the time his great-great (and countless more greats)-granddaddy had bought it when he served in the army about two hundred years ago. As the story went, the laptop had stopped a bullet when his great-grandpappy had been ambushed in the jungles of Peru on a humanitarian trip—Martin paused to trace the pockmark the bullet had left.

His father had told him how it had even brought his parents together. His father had told him, ‘Sometimes you gotta trust the old-fashioned ways…’ that speech like all the others were ignored by the arrogant twelve-year-old. ‘Another long speech,’ was what Martin called them.

Martin tapped the laptop’s worn power button and it hummed to life. Although the laptop had likely been repaired more time than the trash heap Martin was flying in, it held much more value. With a buzz of protest, the screen flashed to life. A tear ran down Martin’s face as he looked at the screensaver, which was a short clip of his father waving goodbye on his last trip.

Martin had taken that video for his mother when he was sixteen. She had told him that even though she couldn’t see his father off that she at least wanted to have it filmed. Martin had protested for everything he was worth, Not only was it weird to see someone filming a video of a space shuttle taking off, but he had also grown apart from his father.

Despite his best efforts, Martin couldn’t help but feel so wronged by the fact that his father spent more time on trips than with him. He had grown to the point where he didn’t even go to the ball games his father had bought tickets for. The seats were in the team the dugout, which was supposedly some of the best spots out there. Martin didn’t dare to call his father daddy, or even dad. Father was what he called him in his own act of rebellion. He told himself every day that he hated his father. Everyone he knew had their dads with them at every school event, Martin’s father, on the other hand, never made it to one.

On his final business trip, Martin had finally broken, telling his dad that he hated him.

He screamed it.

Martin told his Father he would rather him not even come home.

In that moment, pain overtook his father’s eyes. The moment the words left Martin’s mouth he saw a piece of his father die.

After Martin had told him that he didn’t want him back, a lone tear fell across his father’s face. Martin pushed his father away when he tried to give him a so-long hug. All these years later he still remembered his dad telling him that he would always love him, no matter what. And with that, Martin’s father took his leave.

Martin remembered watching the broken shell of a man who had been his father moments ago retreat. He walked alone to his flight. Martin had created that broken shell, and he relished the pain that he caused his father.

Or at least he did.

Martin wiped a tear from his face as he regrets everything that he did to mistreat his father. Beneath all of his hate was an entrapped, neglected love. He didn’t truly mean anything that he said. Martin remembered wanting to race to his father and hug him and say sorry a million times.

But, as Martin considered apologizing, the shuttle roared to life. Martin remembered filming the take-off with shaking hands. He remembered getting home and calling his father from the in-home comm-station. Behind him, Martin had heard the telltale sound of his father’s laptop chirping with its call waiting sound. His dad had left his lucky laptop on the table.

In the weeks that followed, Martin had starved himself. He hated himself because his father was a great man. He had been going from one war-torn planet to another to deliver aid to exhausted people. People who had their lives ruined by the long civil war that went back generations. Martin had waited awake for hours at the home’s comm-station.

Martin had prayed for any messages from his father.

He waited for any type of news.

Finally, Martin remembered racing to the shuttle depot after the longest month in his life. He had planned out a week of what he had hoped would lift his father’s spirits and show him just how sorry he was. He had put together most of his money to take his father and mom to the nicest restaurant in the city.

Martin had planned to tell his father he did love him. He planned on apologizing. Martin had waited in the terminal for hours until his father’s shuttle arrived. He had stood to greet him, trying his best to see over the heads of the passengers and refugees. One passenger had stopped in front of him with an ashen face. The man had rattled something off to him in some language he had never heard.

And then he left.

Eventually, the rest of the crowd had also left.

More confused than anything, Martin approached the desk clerk, asking where his father was. The look she had given him was one he had never seen before. She had told him to go to the cargo hold. Martin remembered that he tried to clarify that it was his father that he was looking for and not a piece of luggage.

The clerk then said, “I know honey, I know. He’s down there though.”

Mystified and hopeful, Martin made his way to the unloading dock. He remembered marching through the maze of the spaceport’s innards in search of the right spot. He eventually found the man in charge and asked of his father.

“Martin Ranger? Humph. Your daddy’s dead, kid,” the man had continued, reading off this and that to Martin. He even stopped a few times to give out some orders to the rest of those around him like Martin wasn’t even there. Then, without any emotion, the man shook his head at Martin and demanded, “Now get out of my sight. I’ve told you where he is.”

A crewmember of his father’s flight guided Martin to the morgue. Martin was shown the broken shell of a great man. He had screamed in defiance. He screamed like his scream could bring his father back. For more hours than he could count, Martin had stood there. Lost. Hopeless.

A few people drifted in and out as he stood there. Martin’s mom had awakened him hours after he had cried himself to sleep. Tenderly, she had led him out, and after several months she had him as put back together as she could.

Martin closed his eyes and let the images of his mother play before his eyes. Her love for him is what kept her going while his love for her kept him going. She was too busy with him to care for herself, and after three years she died. However, by then Martin had grown acquainted with death. His counselor had told him forgetting was how to go on. Sure, forgetting didn’t truly work, but it was a defense mechanism, no matter how weak it was.

All these years later, Martin still woke up every so often drenched in either sweat or tears. Most of the time he would dream of what he could have done to save his dad if he were there in his last moments but there were other dreams as well that shook him to the core of his being. Forgetting wasn’t easy and Martin failed to see why his counsellor had tried to guide him down that path. Forgetting wasn’t a path to healing, if anything it was a path that left lifelong scars. But, until the day that he finally dealt with the buried pains from his childhood, Martin would just have to do his best to forget every day.

Martin touched the screen and the image of his father’s last moments disappeared. They were replaced with the image of his family. His beautiful wife and son—a son who somehow inherited both his mother’s blue eyes and a blue tuft of hair. The duo smiled towards the camera as they sat in the courtyard of their penthouse.

“Hello, Natallia,” Martin whispered.

Natallia had been dead for seven years. Martin’s son Clive was only a year old when she died, so he didn’t go through the pain of loss like Martin had. Martin traced his deceased wife’s face and eventually tapped the only icon on the screen. The laptop chimed happily for a moment before Clive answered the call on the other end.

“Hi, daddy,” Clive’s image said as it filled the screen.

“Hey, Clivey!” Martin smiled, forgetting his poor cabin accommodations as he looked at his strong young boy, “Where’s Lydia?” Martin went on to ask of the caretaker whom he hired after his wife’s death.

“But dad… I wanna talk to you!”

“Alright,” Martin immediately gave in. It had been weeks since they last spoke due to his hospital visits and the lack of adequate comm-arrays in Russia, “What do you want to talk about?”

Clive spoke for an hour, as Martin listened enthusiastically. He watched as Clive showed him what he learned at school. Smiled as he listened to Clive recite the last four meals he had had (surely with some embellishment, cookies and cake were brought up countless times). Martin had told Lydia, ‘Only the best for Clive,’ and she saw to it. Lydia showed love in a way towards Clive that Martin thought only Natalia could show.

“Oh, sorry buddy,” Martin cut Clive off mid-sentence, looking at the flashing battery charge, “I’m almost out of batteries, I’ll call you back in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“Prom—”

The cabin lights flickered again, and Martin paused mid-word to search for a safety harness of some sort. The engine continued to hum in the distance. Martin felt the ground buck and heard a metallic thud as he was thrown from his feet. The lights continued flickering as Martin struggled to get to his feet. Then the lights shut off altogether and the only illumination in the room was the laptop with Clive’s face.

Martin looked up to his laptop, and saw Clive’s scared face, “I love you Cli—”

Chapter One

Paradise, Galatia

Seventeen Years later

“Wake up! Up! Up! Up!” Commander Jenniston calls loudly, awakening everyone in the large cell. Several men groan at her sudden intrusion, and Jenniston continues on joyously, “Another day of work, another day closer to freedom.”

Jenniston hits a panel on the wall beside the door and the lights of the cell weakly flicker to life. The old bulbs illuminate the grey walls, grey floor, and equally as grey ceiling. At one time, the room may have been one solid shade of grey, but between the vandalism, age, and blood, the color had long since changed to its current patchy state. As with the rest of the prison, cracks seem to line every surface. The ground was settling faster than the Coalition anticipated when it rebuilt the prison about fifteen years back.

Despite all the cracks and other structural issues in the prison, no one ever tried to escape. Everyone knew that even the largest cracks are by no means a way to get out. Venturing outside of the massive walls that lined the prison complex meant leaving the security of them. Leaving the security of Paradise meant certain death. No one ever lasted long against the monsters that lie just beyond the walls of the prison.

Clive Ranger, along with the other prisoners squint against the bright lights Jenniston had flicked on. Clive had awakened from his same old nightmare to another entirely different one. His dad had been gone for almost seventeen years now and yet Clive still couldn’t move on. Every morning the same images of his father flash before his mind’s eye in an ever-repeating nightmare. Without fail, there is always the bright flash, the sound of an explosion, and then of the empty cabin with the gaping hole out to the stormy skies that Clive’s father had disappeared into. A streak of blood on the floor marked his father’s final attempts to stay alive.

And then the dream was over and there were always the cell’s glum lights. There was always the wakeup call. Then there was the work.

Life on the prison world of Galatia was not something many people were cut out for.

Jenniston looks around the room studying the twenty bunks, and their exhausted occupants. Eventually, her eyes settle on one bunk—bunk TA-12.

“Ah, another one,” Jenniston smiles. She walks towards the bunk barking some obscure orders into her comm-unit. Jenniston then draws her bloodied baton and demands, “Up!”

When the bed’s occupant fails to immediately comply, Jenniston lashes out. She swings her weapon of oppression savagely, beating the man who remains still. After several strikes, Jenniston then covertly check for a pulse, only to find the body cold to her touch.

Clive watches as a squadron of guards march into the room, “What are your orders, Commander?” Captain Richardson dismissively asks Jenniston who is still hovering over the dead man like an assassin over their first contract kill.

“Take this rat to the furnace,” Jenniston orders before she draws her revolver and shoots the dead man. Jenniston spins around triumphantly and she glares at the other inmates before demanding, “Anyone else too tired to work? Any of you want a day off too? You can join your friend here!”

When no one immediately responds to Jenniston’s calloused remark, she seems to get even more angry. Flipping the bunkbed, Jenniston throws both the dead man and the inmate on the bunk above him, the ground. The man from the upper bunk scurries to his feet before backing up to a wall where he finds some semblance of safety. The other inmates look at each other helplessly, three of them give a defeated nod which tells the others, ‘We are done, good luck to you.’ Clive catches their attention and silently pleads with them I an effort to keep them alive.

“Line up!” Jenniston ordered.

Sixteen men stand and shuffle into a haphazard line. The three that had chosen to give up remain next to their bunks, pale, defeated, and yet still defiant. The three look at Jenniston, at the guards, then finally back to their friends. The trio then pat their hearts gently as they look to their friends, giving them their final goodbyes—the Paradise way. Jenniston and the guards notice the men at the same time. Clive and the rest of the prisoners return the Paradise farewell as everyone focuses on the three.

“Your choice,” Jenniston says with a shrug. Without turning away from the three, she continues to the guards, “Guards, no need to be humane. Make them suffer. Drinks on me for whoever can keep theirs alive the longest.”

The sixteen surviving prisoners look away, and begin to shuffle toward the door, as is the protocol. Suddenly, another gunshot rings out, and the inmate leading the line crumbles to the ground. Clive and the others raise their hands and clasp them behind their heads, per yet another protocol. Glancing down to Jenniston’s latest kill, Clive grimaces.

Lying before Clive, in a pool of his own blood, is Raymond, a man who had shared stories about his time as a Coalition politician before he leaked some documents to the Resistance to save countless lives. Raymond had always assured Clive that he would do it all again. Time and time again, he’d declare, ‘I’d rather die an honest man, than a rich one.’ It looks like he got his wish, Clive thinks solemnly as he slowly looks away from his dead friend.

“Did I say you could leave…?” Jenniston asks with a cruel grin, as she slaps her neck idly with her revolver, “I’m offended that you didn’t want to stay for the show, in fact… I think you should take part in all the fun!”

Jenniston takes three guns from some of the guards. Releasing the magazines from the rifles, she hands the weapons over to three new inmates. The three hesitantly take the weapons, then hold them loosely at a distance. Looking distastefully at the weapons, they glance around the room in concern.

“Go on,” Jenniston prods, “I don’t have all day.”

“I would never…” A man who went by Brett argues weakly, “I can’t. I won’t hurt my friends.”

“Very well,” Jenniston shrugs once more. Nodding passively, she raises her revolver and pulls the trigger. Another gunshot. Another body. Jenniston picks up the rifle from the fresh puddle of blood and selects another appointee. She continues in a condescending voice mostly to Clive, “If you don’t kill these three, I may just kill everyone in the mine’s first shift. That’s all seven wings of the mines too. What is that Clive? You’re good with numbers, right?”

“That’s… Well, that’s f-fourteen hundred people!” Clive stutters as he realizes this was no empty threat. As per the usual, Jenniston was very much serious. Clive knew for a fact that she wasn’t bluffing because there were countless accounts of her purges. Rumors of purges so cruel and complete, that they somehow found themselves spreading to the outside world.

The chosen three fix their gazes upon the condemned who lower their heads in consent. Clive taps his foot to get the others’ attention. Once he sees that they are paying attention to him, Clive nods, giving them the order to comply. The three grasp their rifles a little tighter, and look up, their faces showing determination as they prepare to save the lives of hundreds at the expense of three friends.

“I thought you snakes would agree,” Jenniston spits out the words like venom. Fortunately, Jenniston is oblivious to the fact that the three were acting on Clive’s orders and not hers. Grinning like a madwoman, Jenniston presses, “Go on. Send these rats from one Hell to another. Oh, and everyone will watch. I’m sure you all can learn something from this.”

Clive looks toward the six men, but gazes past the scene that was about to unfold, as do the other men. No one should watch broken men get killed like this. We sure will learn something, Clive tells himself as he stares past the scene, And that’s how we will kill you, Jenniston.

Clive puts up a mental barricade, muffling the cries of pain that sound from the condemned as they are beaten to death by their own friends. There’s something about cries of pain like these that no one could ever forget. They were cries that one should never hear, and surely never grow used to.

They were cries that Clive has heard a thousand times, and he never managed to completely block out. Despite his best efforts, the wails of agony broke through his mental walls. Despite his best efforts, the screams always seemed to echo in his subconscious.

Jenniston watches with a devilish grin as three men are destroyed at her order. Clive can tell that the absolute power was intoxicating to Jenniston. He watched as it made her tremble with excitement.

After what felt like hours, two lifeless bodies are laying in front of Clive and the others. They are battered and hardly resemble the men they once were. Just one man is still clinging to life and he helplessly looks up to the man who had yet to finish him off.

Upon realizing that her fun was nearly over, Jenniston orders, “Stop.”

The three prisoners snap out of their dutiful trance and jump away from the bloodied mounds before them. These were once their friends. Men with names. Men with families. And yet, they had killed them like animals. The three inmates toss the weapons aside and fall to their knees. Richie, one of the chosen three, finally breaks, and weeps openly. His tears run down his face, washing away the blood which had splattered onto it. His cries echo off the cold concrete walls, his wails are soon accompanied by those of the other two.

“Leave this one to bleed out,” Jenniston orders. She strides confidently over to the door before she continues coolly, “And don’t clean this mess. I need it for evidence in our investigation. Why would these three men suddenly kill their own friends?”

Clive snaps to attention as he hears the lies being spun before him. How could a woman be so cruel? He listens, shocked as Jenniston tells the story of what ‘Really happened’ saying the three were found killing these men after they killed the man in bunk TA-12. Per her orders, they are to be exiled on the outside of the prison walls. None survive the beasts of the wilds beyond the wall. Clive had heard that Jenniston was apt to make up these coverup stories in the past for her own benefit, but had never been present for the spinning of one. Clive shudders at the thought of anyone buying into the lies.

The three look through their tears at their friends. They had killed and were to be killed by the beasts beyond the walls. That is the justice system of Paradise Galatia, no matter how one looked at it. They were to be left to fend for themselves against creatures bred from a hundred years of ‘science’ and inbreeding.

The resulting creatures made up a huge variety of killing machines which few lived to tell about. When these creatures first arrived, they killed off about half of the people of the Galatian jungles in a matter of a few months. After nearly a year the galactic superpowers sought to contain the creatures they had created. The result was a hundred-meter-tall wall encircled by the ancient jungles. In time, it became the prime location for an inescapable prison, Or at least that’s what they believe, Clive muses expectantly.

“Alright you three,” Richardson summons the condemned as he gently helps one of the inmates to their feet, “Up. You heard Commander Jenniston.”

When the three are standing, Richardson quietly leads them out of the cell to their certain end, his team in tow.

“As for you,” Jenniston smiles wickedly as she faces the remaining prisoners, “You’ve missed your breakfast. It’s too bad too, I heard they had protein bars today. Straight to the mines with you. Move it.”

•••••••••••••••

Clive and the others shuffle by the cafeteria longingly as they make their way to the west wing of the prison for the morning shift. Every corridor has an automated security check, so Clive flashes his prison ID and walks through. As had become the custom, Clive is leading his line of inmates into the mines.

As Clive had been told by the last Mr. X, ‘Some men are born leaders, others are thrust into that position,’ Clive was one of those forced leaders. ‘Mr. X’ was the title given to the person responsible for planning escape attempts, and now Clive had the ‘honor.’ He stops at the entrance of the titanium mine’s west shaft, allowing the rest of the two hundred people charged with working the west wing to press in around him. Nothing had changed in the last year and a half except for the faces Clive saw. Clive has outlived most every prisoner in the complex, so he has been deemed the luckiest man in Paradise. But, as he told everyone who uttered the idea, he was anything but lucky to stay alive in here this long.

“The others wanted me to ask you, sir,” Jenessa Gurst, a tall, built woman from Sinerra, and Clive’s second in command starts as she leads the line of female inmates alongside Clive’s group. When she sees that she has Clive’s attention, she continues, “Where were you and your roommates? You didn’t show up for the morning mess, and we were kept clear of the area around your cell all morning.”

Jenessa had fallen off the grid several months before Clive was captured. She had led countless task forces for Clive up until the moment she disappeared. She had gone dark alongside the entire team that Clive had sent out with her at the time. It wasn’t until Clive found her a couple months ago in Paradise that he got the full story. Evidently the ship she had been on was carrying some sort of disease. After several months in Coalition quarantine, Jenessa was the sole remaining survivor. When a Coalition emissary came to visit the quarantine area, he immediately recognized Jenessa, who was quickly arrested. After several months in various prisons, Jenessa found herself here, in the dumping ground of the Coalition’s most dangerous enemies.

Without turning, Clive briefs Jenessa on the morning’s happenings, “Jenniston made another surprise check-in. Dean died last night, Jenniston found the body, and it all went south from there. She exiled three of our boys too—including our demo expert Richie.” Once he had finished Clive pulls the lever for the lift. With a loud groan, the lift races into the mine below.

Lights play on the faces of the two hundred prisoners as the freight elevator roars along. After quite some time, it grinds to a halt far from the actual mine shaft. Here, work lights illuminate a rickety tower of scaffolding that rises the hundred meters necessary to reach the ragtag elevator. One by one, everyone makes their way to the shaft below. Everyone shuffles along to their respective tunnels for another day of work in the dank, poorly lit tunnels of Paradise.

“So, does that push our plans back again, sir?” Jenessa asks as she and Clive make their way to their station, “Because we are losing our strength, and our hope, sir.”

“No,” Clive shakes his head. Picking up a dull, worn pickaxe he gets to work. After striking the wall of the tunnel he is mining a few times, Clive goes on to say, “In fact, I think I may push things ahead. I think we can convince a few of the guards to join us.”

“Who? And how? They all serve Jenniston diligently, sir.”

“Captain Richardson seems to be disturbed by Jenniston’s cruel treatment of us. I’m sure he would be willing to help. And if not voluntarily, I’m sure he would help us out for a price.”

“And how do you suppose we pay him, sir? Open up our wallets and hand him a few of… whatever they use here? We don’t have anything!” Jenessa argues hopelessly as she takes an angry swing at the tunnel wall nearest her. Grit and dust go flying, which sets Jenessa off, and she takes several dozen more swings on the wall as she grits her teeth.

Once Jenessa had marginally calmed down, Clive reaches into a crevasse in the wall, and pulls out a small bag. Smiling, he opens it to show Jenessa as he continues with a chuckle and teasingly condescending, “There’s several billion Coalition dollars’ worth in here. Did you really dare to doubt my resourcefulness?”

“How?” Jenessa asks, curiosity—and a flash of hope—blooming in her eyes.

“Last month I found a small seam of these gems. I dug out what I could, and then boarded up the shaft. If Jenniston found out that she was sitting on something of real value… Well, I hate to imagine what she would do. Now, we just have to make sure Jenniston and Triborn hear nothing of this and we should be home free.”

Clive quickly tucks the gems into the folds of his tattered prison garb as a line of inmates shuffle by him and Jenessa. Once they are all out of earshot, Jenessa presses, “What about the old plan? If Richardson joins us, that’ll make everything easier, right?”

“It will,” Clive answers confidently as he smashes a nearby rock.

“Are you sure about Richardson?”

“I wouldn’t offer it unless I was certain. I trust his team too.”

“Well… I guess they aren’t like the rest.”

“They’ve treated us better than the other guards, that for certain. They actually treat us like we’re people. You and I both know that they want out of here as bad as we do.” Clive presses.

Clive’s mind was already made up. He was going to recruit Richardson; his only issue was that he wanted Jenessa’s support. Leading everyone to their potential deaths was a burden Clive wasn’t interested in bearing alone. But, if Jenessa was on board, that would make everything easier on him.

“You’ve got your mind made up,” Jenessa observes, “I can see it in your eyes.”

“I think he’s our best bet,” Clive cedes with a shrug, “I think we could get more people out this way too.”

“But he and his team are always down here with us. We’ll need to be in the hangar… how will he help us up there if he’s down here?”

“Triborn and his team sweep the mines after every shift, if we knock them out, Richardson is next in line to take over.”

“Won’t Jenniston suspect us?”

“I’ve got a plan,”

“Can’t you just tell me the plan for once?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Clive asks mischievously before he chuckles. His chuckling, in addition to the dingy tunnels, force Clive into a coughing fit. Clive then weakly wobbles over to a nearby cart and glances back to an exasperated Jenessa before pushing the cart toward the exit of the tunnel.

“Really? That’s all you’re going to tell me?” Jenessa demands. She always hated when Clive left her out of the loop, but that was just the way he did things. He had learned the hard way that people can’t be trusted with all the cards, so he made sure to keep his best hands to himself.

He pauses just long enough to call back, “I’ll tell you more at the end of the shift.”

If you want to know what happens next, then click below and buy it now!

Buy Renaissance Now!

My Books

The Limit of Infinity Overview

April 12, 2020December 3, 2020
by Caleb Fast

The Limit of Infinity starts in the year 2290 and is the very first series I published.

I started writing this series all the way back in 2014. Back then, I was still in Middle School and I was just writing a book to write a book. Over the next five years, I continued writing this, and several other books, and I heard time and time again that I needed to publish my works.

Now with three books out in this series, I am finally following all those requests!

The Limit of Infinity represents everything I ever wanted in a science fiction book. I figured that if I was writing a book, I may as well do it my way.

That means that I got to have all the fighting I wanted, all the different societies. It meant I could include all the ails that I thought would plague the ideal sci-fi universe that was about to get into the bloodiest war that had ever been fought.

It also meant I could, and would, include all the aspects that made my writing unique. That meant I could focus on what I liked most in books, and avoid things I always found annoying. Like, who actually cares how tall a character in a book is? I mean, really? How does Sally Huntsmith being 5-feet-two-and-an-eighth-inches tall help anyone?

I have always preferred books that keep extraneous details out. Give me everything I need to picture where I am/where the story is taking place, and leave Sally’s exact height out of it! I love reading about how the coastal hills cascade toward the rolling seas below. How there is a quaint seaside town that belongs as much to the sea as it does the land. But sometimes people go so overboard.

I like to keep things concise to the story I’m telling. I’ll tell you what you need to know, paint a picture of where you are, and tell you what people are feeling and what’s going on. As I see it, there’s no point in telling you that Sally’s crush in kindergarten stole part of her shoelace.

So, with my lecture out of the way, here’s The Limit of Infinity!

The Limit of Infinity

Book One is Available on Amazon!
Book Two is Available on Amazon!
Book Three is Available on Amazon!

Renaissance: The Limit of Infinity Book One

Clive Ranger was born into a war that has raged on for generations.

Across the galaxy, families have been torn apart and cities have been razed. But Clive may be the one who shifts the tide of the rebellion that has risen up against the evil Coalition.

The Coalition has locked away countless men and women utilizing them as slave labor across the galaxy. Clive is one of these unfortunate souls. However, he isn’t alone. Most everyone in the prison has their own scores to settle against the Coalition.

After all, it was the Coalition that killed their families, friends, and everyone they once knew.

Clive has a plan, and followers who have nothing to lose.

Can they finally retake their freedom?

Can they end the war they were all born into?

See the Preview…

Buy Renaissance Now!

Escapade: A Price to Be Paid Book Two

On the run from the Coalition’s forces,

Clive Ranger is at the helm of the outdated Resistance Fleet from Allur.

Thanks to Clive, the Resistance force on Allur is on the run, leaving behind the lives the comfortable lives they once knew. Leading the Resistance’s legendary Eagle Fleet, Clive continues his journey to his anticipated safe-haven.

Clive hopes to continue his lifelong vendetta from here, far from the Coalition’s prying eyes. Fortunately, Clive is not alone, Trix and Richardson also have their own scores to settle with the Coalition. As do countless others in the Resistance.

But, not everything goes as planned when the retreating Resistance force arrives at Strehim.

Clive will find that the worst is yet to come.

Clive will have to reckon with the fact that he still has much to lose.

He needs to learn that the Coalition can still take away things he holds dear, including his own life, and the lives of his friends.

Read the Preview…

Buy Escapade Now!

Overcomer: No Man Left Behind Book Three

When nothing goes as planned, thinking on your feet is the only way to stay alive.

Clive is desperate after losing contact with every team he sent ahead to scout out Strehim. Every single team.

He knows that he is in a race against the clock to find them. He also knows that he’s in for a load more trouble, if the clouds of missiles he already faced were any indicator.

As for those on the ground, they are fighting for their lives without any way to contact the fleet.

Cut off from help, it is them, their wits, and whatever they may hope to find against a seemingly hostile world.

What could possibly go wrong?

Or should we say, could things get worse?

Read the Preview…

Buy Overcomer Now!

More books are to come, don’t worry! I’m writing as fast as I can!

Free Book Previews

The Battle for Allegra: Retrieval (Preview)

April 10, 2020December 3, 2020
by Caleb Fast

By Caleb Fast

Chapter One

The Bulwark, Allegra

“Watch your right!” Louis calls out her warning as she points at a small group of soldiers that are dug into the nearby mountainside. The soldiers appear to be preoccupied as they fight amongst themselves, which Matthew finds oddly reassuring.

“They look like they’re busy,” Matthew reports as he turns away from the small squad Louis had pointed out and looks back to Alois.

Matthew and the twins had stopped at the southmost door and remained completely silent for several moments now. Louis explained that she and Alois wanted to listen for any signs of hostiles inside. After hearing quite a bit of activity, Louis reasoned that they should continue waiting until things cleared up slightly.

“Incoming,” Alois reports as he motions with his weapon behind Matthew.

Matthew spins around and sees that there are a handful of soldiers shambling toward him and the twins. The soldiers’ skin is discolored, and their eyes are very much blank. Frowning, Matthew thinks, I guess James was telling the truth about what gassed soldiers look like.

“They’ve been gassed!” Matthew declares as he raises his weapon and prepares to fire.

“That one’s already been shot…” Alois breathes as he cocks his head slightly.

“I don’t like the sounds of that—” Matthew mention but he is cut off when one of the gassed Mudders lunge forward. Instinctively, he pulls the trigger on his rifle and releases a stream of bullets that rip into the nearest soldier.

Matthew calms down slightly when the soldier he shot doubles over and stops moving. To his concern, however, the remaining gassed soldiers continue approaching them.

“Should we shoot?” Alois asks as he glances over to Matthew.

Louis spins around and points out a group of gassed Mudders that are approaching from their rear. She fires a few rounds before shouting, “That’s a yes!”

Matthew glances over his shoulder to the hostiles Louis had pointed out. He looks just in time to see Louis unload the rest of her magazine on them. Seeing that the job is done on that end, Matthew turns back to the afflicted soldiers in front of Alois.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Alois declares happily before unloading on the hostiles before him.

Matthew quickly sees that Alois’s firepower isn’t enough to take care of the growing group of gassed Mudders and he tenses up once more.

Gritting his teeth, Matthew tightens the grip on his rifle, and he decides to join in. Opening fire, Matthew helps Alois mow down the remaining gassed soldiers.

“That wasn’t so bad…” Matthew muses with a nod. He smiles, realizing how he and the twins made such quick work of the hostiles.

“So, what should we call those guys?” Alois asks after a few moments.

“What do you mean by that?” Matthew inquires.

“The crazy guys?” Louis asks, surprised.

Nodding, Alois affirms, “Yeah, I was thinking something along the lines of “gassers” since they were gassed.”

“Sounds good to me,” Louis responds as she nods approvingly at Alois’s name proposal. She glances up from the sights of her rifle that she still has trained on their surroundings.

“What is it with you two and naming things?” Matthew asks incredulously.

Chuckling, Alois confidently replies, “If I can put a name on it, I can shoot it.”

“Wait, you gave me a name—” Matthew starts but is cut short when he is hit by a large drop of something. At first, he thinks that it may be raining, but then he remembers that it hadn’t rained on Allegra yet.

Looking up, Matthew is greeted with a sight that makes his heart stop momentarily. His voice is caught in his throat, which causes him an odd pain that makes him wince slightly.

His eyes still wide open, Matthew eventually coughs and lets out a concerned shout. Above him are a large group of gassers that are reaching down toward him and the twins from the second story of the building.

“What is—” Louis starts before she sees what Matthew had taken issue with. Raising her weapon, she calls, “Alois, up top!”

Before either of the twins have a chance to fire, the gassers start pouring over the ledge, falling toward them.

Instinctively, Matthew opens fire once more. He tenses up again and prays that he can kill all the gassers before they can kill either him or the twins.

Several gassers land dead on the ground, remaining where they land. By now, the twins have their weapons free and they are letting loose on the gassers that are still coming over the top.

Matthew flinches as a gasser gets shot far too close for comfort. To his horror, the gasser’s blood splatters all over his mask. In his brief lapse of attention, three gassers hit the ground, untouched by the twins’ gunfire.

The trio of gassers quickly work their way to their feet. Matthew watches with a mix of disgust and intrigue as the gassers work their ridged bodies and begin approaching him.

Realizing that the twins hadn’t noticed the gassers, Matthew trains his weapon on them. He pulls his trigger a few times to no avail. Turning his weapon onto its side, Matthew checks his mag and sees that he is out of ammo.

Before he has a chance to grab a new magazine one of the gassers takes a hold of his shoulders. Matthew looks up in time to see another gasser reaching for Louis and he acts.

Releasing his rifle, Matthew takes a hold of the nearest gasser’s face and he drills his fingers into its eyes. Simultaneously, he grabs his sidearm and opens fire wildly at the gasser that has yet to reach Louis.

Thanks to the suddenness of Matthew’s attack, Louis looks over to him and sees his dire straits. She spins around and shoots the gasser nearest her that Matthew had unsuccessfully shot at before turning her weapon on the remaining two.

“Thanks,” Matthew breathes as the gasser in front of him crumbles to the ground. He holds his hand up in the air where he had been holding the gasser and he gawks at the blood that it is running from his fingers all the way down to his elbow.

“And thank you,” Louis nods before looking back up to the ledge the gassers had come over.

“Looks like that was all of them,” Alois reports after a few moments.

Sickened, Matthew decides to offer an idea, “You know, maybe we could just hold off on this attack—”

“Fall back!” someone cries out from the other side of the door, interrupting Matthew.

If you want to know what happens next, then click below and buy it now!

Buy Retrieval Now!

Free Book Previews

The Battle for Allegra: Relegated (Preview)

April 10, 2020December 3, 2020
by Caleb Fast

By Caleb Fast

Chapter One

The Bulwark, Allegra

“Just run!” Matthew commands when he notices Rav’ian slowing down slightly, “Don’t worry, I’m right behind you!”

Rav’ian heeds Matthew’s words and she quickens her pace. Matthew hopes against all hope that he and Rav’ian are still heading in the right direction. Unfortunately, he can’t be sure thanks to the thick cloud of smoke that he had deployed.

The sniper fire has intensified since Matthew first tossed the smoke grenades. He isn’t certain, but part of him wonders if the Beetle snipers knew that he and Rav’ian had just slaughtered so many of their friends.

One of the sniper beams hits the ground nearly a meter away from Matthew’s feet, snapping him back to the task at hand of running for his life. The ray cracks loudly, and the mud sizzles where it had been hit. Not in the mood to get shot again, Matthew ducks down slightly and surges ahead.

Another sniper bolt strikes the mule and burns a hole into its side. The mule continues lumbering ahead seemingly unfazed through the storm of sniper fire.

“You’re almost there, come on!” Matthew hears someone beckon from ahead of him.

“Ack!” Rav’ian screams as a sniper bolt cuts into her thigh. She quickly stumbles and falls to the ground where she clenches her leg and squirms around.

“I’ve got you,” Matthew calls out as he races over to Rav’ian’s side.

Matthew slides to a stop beside her and he stares as the scorched hole in her leg for a few moments. Another loud crack from a sniper makes Matthew flinch and he immediately scoops up Rav’ian. Scared for his, and Rav’ian’s life, Matthew carries her in his arms the rest of the way to the trenches.

Before Matthew realizes it, he is at the edge of the frontmost trench. He then carefully hops down, doing his best to not jostle Rav’ian, who had fallen silent. Now protected by the trench’s high walls, Matthew relaxes slightly and lets out a content sigh.

“Well, that’s a new one.” A nearby human remarks as they examine Matthew.

“Can one of you get Marie?” Matthew huffs, his arms still clenched around Rav’ian who is beginning to stir.

“Who’s Marie?” one of the Mudders inquires as they cock their head.

Sighing once more, Matthew levels a stare at the small gathering of human Mudders and asks, “Just track down a Toaz, they’ll know who she is. Tell them Rav’ian got shot.”

A few people scurry away in order to fulfill Matthew’s request, leaving just a handful of curious faces who continue ogling him. They remain silent, save the occasional whisper.

After a minute or two, one of the onlookers asks, “So, what’s a Toaz?”

“She’s a Toaz,” Matthew answers simply as he jerks his chin toward Rav’ian. Frowning, he prods, “Are you guys new?”

“Yeah, just shipped in from Galatia,” one of the men promptly replies. Smiling, he nods, “We were told that we’d be able to fight for our freedom.”

“Your freedom?” Matthew asks curiously as Rav’ian mumbles something.

“Galatia’s a prison world, mate,” another soldier with a strange accent informs Matthew as he kicks some mud off his boot. Likely seeing that Matthew isn’t following, he continues, “We gots ourselves in a mite of trouble few years ‘ack. Me frien’s and I are fixin’ to go straight af’er we done ‘ere.”

“So, they just left you guys here on the front?” Matthew asks, trying to conceal his worry.

As much as he liked the idea of having even more humans fighting by his side, Matthew is beginning to wonder if there were any other good humans out there in the galaxy. Between this lot of convicted criminals and all the Fulcrum guys with James, Matthew can’t help but feel out of place.

“Aye,” the man answers as he takes a few steps closer to Matthew. The man is stout, and he has a wild black goatee to match his equally wild eyebrows and hair. Nodding, he eventually introduces himself, “Name’s Reginald Greenfield, me frien’s call me Reggie.”

“Well, Reggie, I’m Matthew,” Matthew nods in return before he looks down to Rav’ian who appears to be on the verge of saying something.

“Good t’ meet ya,” Reggie smiles, revealing a mouthful of metallic teeth. He then motions to two other humans and continues, “This ‘ere be me crew… rather what’s ‘eft of ‘em at least.”

The first person Reggie motioned toward steps forward. She is short and her auburn hair is braided and secured to the back of her head with a length of wire. She examines Matthew a moment before she introduces herself with a smile, “I’m Louise, Louise Glendoveer.”

“And I’m Alois, Louise’s big brother.” A young man sounds as he steps forward. Alois is much taller than Louise and he looks far more rugged as well. To seal his menacing look, much of the right side of Alois’s face is scarred from severe burns.

“Are not,” Louise counters as she narrows her eyes and scowls at Alois. She quickly looks back over to Matthew to explain, “We’re twins—”

“—And I am five minutes older,” Alois finishes with a mocking laugh as he elbows his sister in the side.

Matthew chuckles at the twin’s teasing of one another, but his amusement is cut short as Rav’ian moans in pain. Worried for her sake, he says, “It’s great to meet you all, but I—”

“Move!” Rav’ian sounds, cutting Matthew off.

Rav’ian’s eyes are fixed on something above them, and Matthew’s blood runs cold when he realizes that it must be the mule. He quickly tosses Rav’ian’s form easily a meter from where he is sitting before rolling after her. As he rolls, he sees the various onlookers also diving for cover.

If you want to know what happens next, then click below and buy it now!

Buy Relegated Now!

Free Book Previews

The Battle for Allegra: The Hunt (Preview)

April 10, 2020June 17, 2021
by Caleb Fast

By Caleb Fast

Chapter One

The Bulwark, Allegra

“Are you not coming with us?” Matthew asks as he looks down to Marie who is still in the trench that he and Rav’ian had just come out of.

Marie looks up to Matthew and gives him a wry smile. She shakes her head and starts leaving before she calls back, “You’ve got your job, I’ve got mine.”

“We require her services here in order to aid our wounded,” Rav’ian explains, “The Coalition did not provide us with medical staffing, and thus Marie filled the role.”

Matthew nods in understanding. Although I definitely would have liked Marie’s company up here, Matthew thinks. As much as he loved Dixie, he had to admit that he had developed a slight crush on Marie in the very short time since he had met her. The girl is both beautiful and smart, much like Dix. Come to think of it, Matthew’s crush may just be caused by his missing Dixie.

Matthew pauses a moment to look around and he notices something—or more accurately, the absence of something. Looking over to Rav’ian, he points out, “I can’t help but notice I’m the only human up here.”

“Our orders currently require that we simply maintain our position. My people cannot remain idle while there is a fight to be fought, and so we fight.”

“Wait, you’re telling me that we don’t have to be out here?”

“That is correct, but we expect this will change in short order. No war is won on the defensive.”

“Do you at least get something out of this?”

“We gain stories and honor.”

“I mean do you get extra rations or something like that?”

“Unless we are granted some from those we rescue, no.”

Matthew frowns, unsure of what to ask next. The entrepreneurial side of him can’t help but wonder why someone would risk their lives for just about no gain. The rest of him wonders why anyone would even come out here even if there was something to be gained.

“We received reports that approximately ten invaders were assembled nearby!” a nearby Toaz calls from a small ridge ahead of Matthew and Rav’ian.

A nearby assembly of Toaz make their way toward the Toaz who had made the announcement, and Matthew begins to follow them before Rav’ian takes a hold of his arm. She pulls him back to herself and holds him there for a few moments longer than Matthew would have liked. He is about to say something when Rav’ian finally speaks.

“There are many among my people who believe we should not treat you as we do,” Rav’ian starts as she stares toward the group of Toaz who are being briefed on the Beets. After another longer than necessary pause, she continues, “The one way that you might be accepted is if you bring in the most trophies this night.”

Matthew gives her a quizzical look before he sighs and tells her, “I know, you’ve already told me as much! I’ve got to bring back the most heads to honor Riaan and his household.”

“This would also serve you,” Rav’ian reminds Matthew as she finally releases his arm.

“Well, now we missed out on joining that hunting party,” Matthew mutters as the group of Toaz disappear over the small hill that the announcement had been made on top of. He looks back to Rav’ian who is silently scanning the horizon. Matthew waits a few more moments before asking, “What are you looking for?”

“Signs of a… I believe your people call it a hive.”

“A hive? So, we’re looking for a bunch of Beets?”

“That is correct. Such a target would yield the greatest quarry.”

“Won’t it be crawling with the Beetles?”

“They will be hibernating for the night,”

“But won’t there be a lot of them?”

“The estimates I have heard report nearly twenty of your ‘Beetles’ for every hive.”

“What if they wake up though?”

“Then we die with honor,” Rav’ian replies with her perfect laugh. She reaches behind her into a backpack that Matthew hadn’t noticed until now and she produces a small helmet of her own. She quickly straps it, and a pair of gauntlets, on as she starts walking away from Matthew.

Matthew chases after her, stumbling several times in the mud. Once he catches up to his Toaz companion, he asks, “Why don’t you have more armor?”

“Armor like your own does not suit me,” Rav’ian replies simply.

“What do you mean?”

“As your people say, it does not suit my style.”

Matthew cocks his head slightly, as he decides if Rav’ian is trying to explain fashion to him. After a beat, he admits, “I’m still not following…”

“Perhaps this will aid your understanding.” Rav’ian sounds as she swings a fist at Matthew.

Matthew is taken off-guard, and Rav’ian’s scaled fist smashes into his jaw. Worse yet, her momentum puts him off-balance, sending him sprawling into the mud.

Matthew spits out a mouthful of mud as he picks himself out of the mire. Now that he has tasted the mud, Matthew is confident that the stories of the dirt being made wet with blood were false. This muck was definitely more akin to the sludge found in his fishing ship’s bilge.

Rav’ian takes advantage of Matthew’s lapse in attention, and she quickly wraps her arms around Matthew’s throat in a chokehold. Matthew looks down and sees a line of spikes on Rav’ian’s gauntlets. He remembers a similar line of spikes on the legs of the Beet he killed the night before.

If you want to know what happens next, then click below and buy it now!

Buy The Hunt Now!

Tag: science fiction book series

Accolade – Chapter Four

Roland Dixon

Sector Four, Galatia

Accolade – Chapter Three

Gideon Lennox

Sector Three, Galatia

Accolade – Chapter Two

Maverick Gracian

Paradise, Galatia

Accolade – Chapter One

Gideon Lennox

Leburt, Galatia

Accolade – Home Page

Overview

Table of Contents

(Click the Chapter you would like to navigate to and it will open up for you.)

Renaissance: The Limit of Infinity (Preview)

Prelude

Northern Union, Earth

Chapter One

Paradise, Galatia

Seventeen Years later

The Limit of Infinity Overview

The Limit of Infinity

Renaissance: The Limit of Infinity Book One

Escapade: A Price to Be Paid Book Two

Overcomer: No Man Left Behind Book Three

More books are to come, don’t worry! I’m writing as fast as I can!

The Battle for Allegra: Retrieval (Preview)

Chapter One

The Bulwark, Allegra

The Battle for Allegra: Relegated (Preview)

Chapter One

The Bulwark, Allegra

The Battle for Allegra: The Hunt (Preview)

Chapter One

The Bulwark, Allegra

Join the Newsletter!