by Grant Fausey
GRANT FAUSEY
FAUSCLAN ENTERTAINMENT, LLC
ALSO BY GRANT FAUSEY
–––––––––––––––
ALPHA TRACK
SKELLON EMPIRE
WIZARD WORKS
HEAVY ARMOR
CHARLIE THE CAVEMAN
FUTURE COURSE
ENFORCE
THE FAMILY GOOPS
U. L. T .R. A.
EYE OF THE MACHINE
THE ANTIQUITY
OF CRIMSON INDIGO
POINTS OF ORIGIN
SHADOWRIDER
THE LAST OF THE MAGNIFICENT MACHINES
THE HUMAN WARS
OF CRIMSON INDIGO
SAMUEL NOMAD’S
NEW AMERICA
OF CRIMSON INDIGO
MARAUDERS OF THE BLACK SUN
THE RETURN
OF CRIMSON INDIGO
THE RETURN OF CRIMSON INDIGO
A MERE DROP OF SUNSHINE
THE CHRISTMAS AUCTION
Copyright © 2017 by Grant Fausey
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Digital ASIN: B073V62FND
Softcover ISBN- 9781521099247
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Control Number:
Fausclan Entertainment rev date:
Cover art: Grant Fausey
For
Ramona
The light of my life…
NOTICE:
All men, alien beings, and worlds in this story
are imaginary. Any coincidence of location, personality
or name is not intended and is, of course, regretted.
IT WAS A TIME WHEN THE UNIVERSE WAS YOUNG,
AND THE LIGHT WAS UPON US ALL…. REMEMBER
––– I –––
PRELUDE
• • •
Let's suffice it to say: All men are not created equal; at least, not in the eyes of the Alpha Renetta. For long before the great exodus of the past millennia, mankind found itself at the mercy of the Kalamar, a race of master-builders whose designs on the future incorporated the creation of a race of humanity that was not human, but rather biologically engineered living, breathing machines. The Alpha Renetta saw this special breed of man as a threat and immediately initiated seek and destroy policies. The Kalamar retaliated, sending a team of agents into the past in an attempt to revert the efforts by undermining the stability of their competition.
These corporate assassins came to be known as:
NOMADS
Circumventing the Kalamar with a counterplot nearly crippled and destroyed the great houses of the Corporate Assembly, triggering the Galactic Senate to host the idea of a special breed of time-traveling bounty hunters to combat these assassins during the capitulation of the human race. This new bred of temporal agent, a precursor to the Ronna Kaa knights of the Temblor, infiltrated the Alpha Renetta once again surfacing to set in motion events that would alter the course of the future. As a result, the remainder of humanity spread a thread of their existence among the stars. The Alpha Renetta fostered these elite survivors moving them to estranged planets with a cohabitation of beings, which were crossbred with the essence of another race. A wide berth of alien landscapes painted in unique tapestries became their playground, while the rest of humanity labored to stay alive in a universe under siege. One of these elitists, Samuel Nomad, a renegade traditionalist crossed the dimensional threshold with a purpose and a destiny predestined by the pioneers of a society determined to repopulate an insignificant planet in the Eden sector of the Milky Way Galaxy. However, the true nature of humanity's existence was countered with deception; ideals stood in the way. Naturally, Samuel Nomad became a hero.
From the Journals of Maccon
– 1 –
Formality & Illusion
• • •
THE THIRD UNIVERSE
THIRD DIMENSION
The sky was dark and cloudless, nothing more than an overcast gray, but that didn't deter Matthew Johnson from reaching the main concourse terminal in record time. Rain or shine, he couldn’t chance being late. Futures depended on him. He couldn’t be late. Not again. If his luck held out, the shuttle would touch down a couple of minutes late. Transports were never on time; besides, the fusion of time and space made it conscionable. "Ready," he said to himself, attempting to at least appear strong, and vibrant.
“Crap,” he regurgitated, coming to an abrupt halt at the terminal archway. The shuttle was in plain sight, and took up most of the view port windows. Down and locked, as they say. Landed. Passengers debarking, and Samuel Nomad was already in the terminal waiting.
If only he didn’t sweat…
"Good morning, General," he said cheerfully. Samuel nodded a casual acknowledgement. What a nickname, the General, not a title; Mathew considered the implications, but couldn’t figure out the connection. The best military minds in the business considered him to be their intellectual superior, not that any of them trusted him. Especially in the art of classic Hydarean combat, a renewed version of classic hand-to-hand techniques: Fate made him popular, the company desirable. But to Samuel, it was all good showmanship.
So what propelled him to the top? His ability to get the job done; four Presidential awards and three Industrial tours to his credit; He even reverse engineered the neural temporal scanner, which allowed connections between prior incarnations and the living light parasites known as nomads.
"Sorry for the delay," Matthew confided.
"No problem," answered Samuel calmly. The ground shuttle pilot continued his preparations, making ready for departure. Matthew dashed around the interior of the ship with a relative ease that made Samuel uncomfortable.
"We'll be ready for egress in just a few minutes, Mr. Nomad," said the pilot. "Just take a seat and we'll be right with you.
Samuel observed. A quick look around to satisfy his feeling of déjà vu.
Matthew's long fingers coursed the instrument panels, making minor adjustment to a bank of colored lights. The ship instantly lit up, ready for departure.
"We're a few minutes ahead of scheduled departure," Matthew breathed easy. It wasn't the end of life, as he knew it. The shuttle was quaint, a relatively shallow craft with room for the flight officer and two passengers. The apex of the compartment slung low into the cabin, suspended a half-meter above Samuel's head. The ceiling dropped sharply into the seating area at a blunt angle in front of him. Samuel gazed over at the highly cushioned seats and saw familiarity. He endured this journey numerous times before and after careful examination concurred that everything was the same. Nothing had changed since his last trip. At least,
it appeared that nothing had transposed.
Samuel always kept his eyes open, never completely sure. It seemed his world hadn't changed, but something felt different: enough change to effect daily life was unusual, but it happened: Déjà vu perhaps. There was always ample room for his relatively normal sized body. He stood six foot six on new Earth, but here in space, on this coffin sized starship destined from the gate station to the surface of a world at the beginning of time; he considered himself suddenly an oversized, clumsy ox of a giant.
"All right, Sir," said the shorter, copper skinned hybrid pilot. "We're ready for departure."
The ship whined, its twin electromagnetic compensators kicking in as the ship powered up, while the FASTEN SEAT BELTS sign clicked on in the panel right in front of Samuel face Samuel cringed, ready; his second acknowledgement of the day: Anything to get on with it! An annoying clanging bell followed the compartment door seal behind him with a syrupy hissing noise sending Samuel over the deep end.
"Raising shields," announced the pilot. A window appeared right in front of him, forming a translucent slanted panel, his voice echoing in a well-worn overture of departure rituals.
"S. C. T. departing, taxiway echo; glide path locked in. Ready for acceleration," commanded the pilot, " Samuel Nomad's ears perked up. Again, there was an alteration to what he considered normal.
"Departure nominal," said Matthew. "We were on way." Matthew smiled in repetitive conversation.
As he did, an electrical field arched over the shuttle, radiating from the bottom. The machine lifted into the air pivoted sharply on a cushion of electromagnetism. A moment later, the vehicle shot straight up, disappearing into the heavens.
"We're clear."
A holo image of a heavy seat gentlemen in his early fifties, formed in the seat next to Samuel. Another surprise. How many should he expect today. Obviously, there was no way to know exactly how many alterations were introduced into the time line. But Samuel knew it was too many, he was suddenly on edge. Nothing added up.
"Okay," said the man, ending a conversation with someone outside Samuel’s field of view. The image jittered, finally centering on the fat man at a desk in a small oval room with pictured walls. Samuel scanned the image quickly, gathering as much information as visibly possible. A small, rather cramped desk, dusty shelves behind him. A small tear on the side of the chair, items well placed in the foreground as distracting instruments such as pens, paper, some sort of small box, and either a note pad, or censoring device.
"Samuel Nomad?” asked the elderly human rhetorically, trying not to incite a heart attack. “Sorry for the intrusion, but there is a matter of the utmost importance I believe you should be made aware of..."
Samuel raised an eyebrow. “Do I know you sir...?” Countered Samuel rather shocked at the gentlemen's sudden appearance. The older fellow waited hesitated, as if awaiting his response. His broad shoulders twitched.
Nervous, thought Samuel. “What’s this all about?”
Like most good-looking men, Samuel was a little rough around the edges but smooth and debonair, a familiar likeness to most of the new pioneers that set the Alpha Renetta apart from society. He was definitely a hybrid, a new breed of human. One destined to recolonize the Earth. Like early in the Atlantean period, the Earth had undergone a series of changes to the planet’s tectonic plates. The land to water ratios changed, leaving forty percent less mass above the surface than below. In fact, during the late twenty first century mankind found itself at the brink of disaster. Devastating earth movements reclaimed much of the land and continental configurations. It was during this period of Earth history that the Alpha Elite took their birth, trying to manipulate life on the planet.
Several groups of inter-dimensional travelers selected Earth to be the testing ground for a new race. One destined to settle the surface of a newly forming world. A new Earth, if you would. This was a grand plan ... one orchestrated by intelligences greater than man's. But with the wide spread knowledge of the infractions and splits in the universal futures, no one was sure of the impact another manufactured race would have on the temperateness of the known universe. Legend of the Industries interference was strong: Especially, among some of the coexisting futures, variations on the coexisting universes were becoming as random as life itself. Unknowingly, Samuel had visited some of these individual paths trying to ascertain the damage done by the Industries' corporate hierarchy.
“Now, General,” said the fat man.
“Michael Tyler?" asked Samuel, with a smile. He finally realized who it was in the fluttering image. “What sort of news might you have for me, today?”
“I'm sure it isn't very good.” Said Matthew, interjecting his thoughts aloud. Samuel could see the discomfort on his face. His eyes narrowed, and darkened to the light temperament evident in the room.
"Matthew Johnson," Michael Tyler clamored taking the round, wire rim frame glasses from in front of his eyes. "Since when have you become so cynical?"
"Since this morning, Senator Tyler," answered Matthew coldly. "We've lost another future to the Industries. Vex Redford made the discovery. Something about a..." Matthew went silent. "I'd better not say..."
Whimpering.
Most unbecoming thought Samuel. There was a long pause. “Open channel,” he added after thinking about it for a long time. IT was obvious Matthew was pointing out the inevitable. "I'm sure he will tell you himself when he has enough information. For now, let's suffice it to say, all men were not created equal. At least, not in the eyes of the Alpha Renetta, wouldn’t you say, Senator?"
"I understand," said the Senator.
Samuel Nomad agreed, said: "You have news for me, Senator?"
"Nothing as dramatic as Matthew's frustrations, I'm afraid, but just as important nonetheless."
Samuel smiled. The act was theatrics, obviously for anyone listening to the conversation. "We've an alteration in the Nexus: A flutter actually. Something coming down the pike, so we've a change of plans, that's all. You're father asked me to relay his disappointment. But he will be delayed. It seems Rooka has returned to New America at his request. There's a schedule change, his arrival has been postponed until later tonight?
My father? Samuel thought for a split second before he answered. He didn't have a father. He'd been artificially manufactured, a product of living machine technologies. "Thank you, Senator," he said casually. That definitely changes my plans. I'll alter my schedule to arrive later than anticipated. I wouldn't want to miss the reunion. If you could, please keep tabs on the temporal waves. We'll be shifting dimensions."
"Understood," said Michael, answering him almost nondescript. A matter-a-fact. There was more going on than anyone wanted to admit. "If necessary," continued Samuel, "Matthew will let you know how to contact me."
"All right," answered the old dignitary. "I'll join you as soon as possible. Please, keep me informed of your progress."
Samuel Agreed. Michael Tyler had the answer he expected.
– 2 –
Implications
• • •
THE THIRD UNIVERSE
THIRD DIMENSION
The glow of early evening moonlit filtered down through the thicket of moisture-ridden leaves on to a magnificent tropical rainforest that was the beauty of Vex Redford's hidden Shangri La base. The picturesque foliage was the reason the entrepreneur felt safe, silence floated atop the river of mist just as much as the protection of the jungle canopy. Secrecy was top priority in the scientist’s world. Silence took second place, but Vex liked the wilderness, towering trees and thunderous waterfalls seemed the perfect place for the home of a crack team of temporal runners. The Mansion's observation windows added to the view, allowing the outside world to reflect its beauty.
Vex Redford's elite corps of time jockeys need serenity as much as comfort. The image of the noon moon crossing its timeless reflection on a beautiful wood grained conference table just added to the ambiance. The holographic projections on the three-d
imensional modeling program’s representation of the double helix from his current research project made it scientific.
“All right you...” he said addressing the computer. There was no one else in the room. His head down, both hands on the conference table, he let out a sigh of frustrated. What was before him didn’t make sense.
“We need some answers,” he continued. “Maybe it's time we take a closer look.”
Vex Redford, a handsome man in his early forties, sported a well-kept body with slightly greying hair and glasses. Standard for his age; still, he remained a bit modest about his personal life; especially, his views on the coming collision between man and living machine. He stood alone at the end of the symposium ready to discuss even the modest inquisition on the subject.
“And Mains––“ he checked the images against the information intercepted from the last transmission from Earth Corporate. The union of past and present made it easier to replicate passages.
“Cross reference the displayed entry with any similar recorded flaws,” he said, eyeballing the display terminals. Obviously irritated with the results. The scientist turned away from the conference table and…
The graphics scrolled down, presenting new information. Vex’s eyes tracked the three-dimensional image on the screen, a cross-section of the 3-D image. The view immediately expanded, fluttering briefly above the center of the conference table. The last log entry displayed entry.
"That’s good, Mains," he said conclusively. "Run an elemental analysis and display the results," he continued, changing the view. Odd arrow shaped symbols overlapped the reproduction, the results appearing on the orbiting forecast. Perhaps he would find the answer he was researching intently. There was something here. He could feel the little tingle that always accompanied a discovery.