Science Fiction Books Archives - Page 22 of 26

Colonize the Galaxy 1 book at a time #Astronomy #SciFi #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 07/17/2019 Research for Sci Fi Writers 6 Comments

Colonize the Galaxy

When I decided to write Science Fiction, I first did some serious, long-term worldbuilding. I created a future history, designed a language, set up a dating system to show how the various colonies interpreted time, and laid out a plan whereby mankind would inhabit and colonize the stars. I started doing this when I was 27, about 40 years ago.

My initial sketch was on sheets of paper taped together, because it kept getting bigger as I added details. If you're going to colonize the galaxy on paper, you need a lot of room!

Then about 14 years ago, when my son was taking graphic design in college, I asked him to create a galaxy for me to work with in Photoshop. He designed the background, and I then added the details.

To be honest, I always thought scientists and astronomers would have a giggle when they saw it. I'd populated the entire thing in huge sweeps, like an outreaching arm. I figured there were probably far too many worlds in my version, but it was my story, so I decided to go with it.

This year, a press release from the European Space Agency (ESA) announced they had entered the GTOC X competition, using data about reaching 100k star systems in an efficient way. The team provided a video online.

Imagine my surprise when I looked at it next to my own galaxy drawing.

In my story universe, in the upper right corner of the map, I have the Dark Star Realm. On the far right (unmapped on mine), it says Worlds of Wings. Humans aren't allowed there, so no one knows how many inhabited worlds exist in that area. The Tarthian Empire exists in a small area to the center left near the bottom. The ESA team closely matched my fictional conjectures.

Stop the video at the :57 mark to see the image captured at the top of the page.

To download my galaxy map in full resolution, visit the Tarthian Tour Company home page. The map is shown at the bottom and when you click it, it opens full size. You can then download or click again to zoom. Warning: large document -- you might have a wait time.

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The Dragon Dagger and the Ritual of Strength #SciFi #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 06/12/2019 Fallen Empires 1 Comment

The Dragon Dagger

Dessy picked up the dragon dagger and twirled it. "You should let our people know you still do this ceremony. They'd be impressed by your devotion."

"I don't do it to impress anyone. I do it to ready myself for-- Stop!" His sister had been sliding one fingertip along the edge of the blade. He removed the dagger from her grasp, and examined the edge.

"Honestly, Pietas! I was just testing the sharpness."

"I didn't want you to cut yourself."

"I'm as adept with blades as you. More so, if you ask me."

So like Dessy to miss the point. "If you'd cut yourself, I'd have to consecrate it again. It can only have my blood or my enemy's."

"You think I'm witless? As if I haven't performed this ceremony with you a hundred times. And here I thought you were concerned for my well-being."

"Stop playing, Dess. I told you, I'm busy."

She let out a harsh sigh. "Fine. Let's complete the ritual."

Dagger in hand, Pietas unfastened the clip in his hair, and let it fall. The wet tail slapped the middle of his back. He tossed the clip aside, placed the dagger on his palms, and offered it.

She poised her hand above it. "Who offers this weapon?"

"First Conqueror, War Leader of the Ultras."

She took it from him. "For whom are you willing to suffer?"

"I suffer for my people." Pietas turned his cheek.

Dessy slid the dagger tip along his face, from cheekbone to chin, drawing a thin trail of blood. "For whom do you bleed?"

"I bleed for my people." By the time the first drop of blood had risen, the cut had healed, leaving no scar.

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Light blared like a blast of horns #SciFi #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 06/05/2019 Fallen Empires 11 Comments

A Blast of Light

The infernal, cheerful whistling began again. Pietas tried in vain to escape the sound. Shackled at the ankles, hands bound behind him, he remained flat on his back. There were no comfort choices inside his pod.

No. Not his pod. He would never claim such a place.

The prison pod. The nightmare pod. A casket for the living.

Would that whistling never end?

Whoever guarded him whistled, night and day. He must have lips made of steel. How a human kept that up day after day was beyond him. Or perhaps... Did an Ultra guard him? Had one of his people come to free him?

Pietas opened his mouth to call out, and clamped it shut.

If it were one of his people, he needed to wait for them to act. They would do so when the time was right. For now, he suffered bouts of agony as feeling returned to his hands and then left in repeating cycles. His metabolism healed him, but brought pain. He focused on that, accepted the pain, welcomed it, and examined every step of its journey through his body. What one understood, one could bear.

An Ultra does not seek to escape pain. If one inflicts pain, one must bear it. Pain must be borne. Pain is a warrior's ally.

He hovered in a nightmare-filled, windowless, endless monotony of thirst and hunger.

Punctuated with unending lilts of bouncy, alert, happy, chipper whistling.

At first, he'd welcomed the sound. The rising and falling notes broke the tedium of everlasting darkness. It stopped for brief periods, but began again soon after.

He'd considered calling out and asking them to stop. He had gone so far as to open his mouth. But asking implied weakness. He acknowledged no tool of torture.

Beg mercy from humans? Never.

This was not stasis. Stasis meant cessation of thought. Of emotion. A dreamless kind of sleep. The end of awareness. A not-time.

They'd frozen his people in these pods, but they'd imprisoned him.

Or perhaps his blood ran so hot, no human force could freeze him.

The tune changed.

For the love of all that's holy, will you shut up!

Blessed silence fell. But then light blared in his face like a blast of horns.

What fresh perdition was this? They'd tortured him with darkness. Now they'd torture him with light?

Pietas tried to force his eyes open, to face the torture, but after so long in darkness, the light stabbed his eyes. He twisted his head to avoid it.

"You-- you're awake?" The startled voice hovered close, muffled by the pod. "Security! Security! Prisoner Six-Six-Six is out of stasis! I say again, Prisoner Six-Six-Six is out of stasis!"

The alarm in the male voice gave Pietas a measure of pride. Even imprisoned, he engendered fear. They had taken away his name, and given him a number that among humans meant a demonic beast.

Let the legend of Pietas--by name or by number--bring fear straight into the heart of man. No... let it bring terror.

The alarmed voice led him to another thought. Had they not known he was awake? No. These vile creatures had readouts of every type. How could one mistake his beating heart and steady breath for anything other than wakefulness and life? They meant to keep him aware and suffering. They knew.

But whoever was guarding him hadn't. Pietas might hate humans, but he knew the difference between genuine alarm and fake fear. He'd been instigating the real thing for centuries.

Interesting. He could use that.

His eyes adjusted to the light, and he focused on the face hovering over the small window above him.

Was that...Ghost Six?

The light cut off, taking with it the familiar comfort of sight. Pietas bit the inside of his cheek to keep silent.

First Conqueror, War Leader of the Ultras, did not beg.

He did not. He did not.
---

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What is Stress: Not being allowed to throttle an idiot #Humor #MFRWhooks #SciFi

Kayelle Allen 04/24/2019 Fallen Empires 4 Comments

What is Stress? Working with idiots...

WordWeb says you can define stress as difficulty that causes worry or emotional tension. Such as having a boss who's a jerk, or a coworker who's lazy or... well, you get the idea.

In today's post, a snippet from Lights Out, the hero is having a bit of stress...

In this scene, Tornahdo has been chewed out for something that in the regular army would have gotten him a commendation. Even a medal. But Ghost Corps is not regular. Not one bit. He sits down to have a drink and calm himself down, but one thought leads to another.

Tornahdo's family believed him missing in action. He couldn't go out in public. Ghosts got call signs, not new identities. He'd earned his by the way he fought, which, according to those who'd been resurrected with him, was a tornado.

"No, he's Hispanic-Terran," one had said. "He'd pronounce it different. We'll call him Tornahdo."

To which he'd offered a sweeping bow. "Sí. Gracias."

If taken prisoner, the enemy wouldn't find out who his family was, or who other ghosts were. Like any cover story, the more you lived it, accepted and believed it, the more solid it became. He was Tornahdo. Every minute. Every day. Right now, he fought the urge to kick into full tornahdo rage and slam through a certain officer's quarters. On his desk, his former commander had a framed quote, hand-stitched by his wife.

"Stress: the body's reaction to not being allowed to throttle an idiot."

How many times had the man shouted that Tornahdo was stressing him out? More than he cared to admit.

But today, he knew exactly what that quote meant.

Lights Out by Kayelle Allen

He can save mankind. After he does one important thing. Die.
Join the Ghost Corps, they said. You'll live forever, they said. You'll save mankind, they said. They didn't say that to do it, first he had to die.
When Tornahdo signs on the dotted line, he puts his life into the steady hands of the mighty Ghost Corps. Three grisly deaths and three agonizing resurrections later, he's assigned duty on the space station Enderium Six.
He's facing his most dangerous mission yet, the very reason the corps exists.
Do they expect him to win? Fat chance. Tornahdo and his team are already dead and this mission is codenamed "Lights Out." No, there's more to this than he can see.
To discover the truth, he must face an unbeatable, unkillable enemy, and this time--somehow--find a way to keep himself alive...
Lights Out is in the Science Fiction/Space Opera anthology The Expanding Universe Vol 4, edited by Craig Martelle out Sept 17, 2018
https://kayelleallen.com/lights-out-save-mankind/

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Heat: Empathy? Or was that the fire? #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 11/21/2018 Fallen Empires 6 Comments

Heat: Empathy? Or was that the fire?

"How can you not do this, Six? What if my family and the council members are in the same shape I was in? Trapped, helpless, and injured?"

"No, no, and no." Six sat cross-legged by the fire, filet knife in hand, scraping scales off a fish. The fire sparked as the scales hit. "I'm not looking for your people. Look," he gestured at him with the knife, "you promised not to kill me. Not them. And to clarify, when it comes down to who ain't killing who, I promised not to kill you. Them? They're another story."

A hint of heat tingled against Pietas's face, and then a deeper warmth. Were his empathic senses returning, or was that the fire? "You are afraid." It sounded more accusatory than he'd intended.

Six glared at him. "Of course I am! You think I'm an idiot? I'm the only human on Sempervia. You know what a bunch of Ultras are gonna do if a human walks into camp? Nope." He spread his hands, the dead fish flopping as he did. "Not going. You get better, and I'll go with you, but I ain't going alone."

"I can't believe you."

"Sorry to disappoint." In one slice, he split the fish and then gutted it. He tossed the guts into the flames.

"You evince no sorrow whatsoever."

Six speared him with a dark look. "Evince? That some Naro swear word?"

"It's standard Etymis everyone speaks, ghost. It means to express. Empaths read the emotions that others evince."

"Fine. I don't evince any sorrow. Not one bit sorry about not taking on such a harebrained mission. Look what happened to the last one I accepted." He threaded the fish onto a long stick and set it over the coals' heat. "I might be dead, but I'm an animated dead, thank you. I intend to stay that way."

Pietas shut his eyes, jaws clenched. If he could heal faster by focusing anger, he'd have shot straight to good-as-new.

While Six worked on a second fish, Pietas considered what other tacks to try. The ghost was all about duty. "I'm accustomed to obedience from my men."

Six's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Two things I'm starting to regret right now." He did not continue.

Pietas prompted him. "Such as?"

"One, that I didn't go AWOL when I heard about the mission to capture you."

Curiosity won over, and he broke the silence. "And the second?"

"That you got your voice back."

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“I do believe in ghosts” — these ghosts are real #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 10/24/2018 Fallen Empires 14 Comments

In Lights Out, a story in the Expanding Universe (Vol 4), you're asked to believe in ghosts of a different kind. These ghosts are special ops soldiers resurrected to fight an enemy that is immortal.

I do believe in ghosts!

Twenty-four hours later, healed and at attention, Tornahdo endured a tongue-lashing by no less than the Ghost Corps Colonial Armada Commandant General. What a mouthful for such a tiny person. He wouldn't have thought he'd rated an officer of her rank.

If a general had thousands to command, why was she slapping around a master sergeant? In the regular army, they'd berated him at the lowest level of incompetence. And what was his sin? Getting killed in battle. If you came back to life, why was that wrong?

Plus, if a soldier sacrificed himself saving a platoon, you didn't write him up. You bestowed a medal.

Treat the regular army like this and that whole death-and-rebirth thing was never going to catch on.

While the general droned on about the expense of rebirths and the protocol for ghosts, he counted bullet holes in the fence outside the window. Sixty plus on one panel. Over forty on another. Wasted firepower. Probably a human.

Ultras tended not to miss.

"Are you listening to me, Master Sergeant?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Repeat what I said."

Tornahdo spat it back.

Clasping hands behind her, the general paced. "You were inducted into the corps and promoted because you had the highest rating from a commanding officer I'd ever seen in the regular army. Now that I've reviewed your record, I'm wondering if he inflated your value to get you out of his unit."

He'd wondered the same thing.

"You've been written up for insubordination three times. What is your problem with authority?"

"Ma'am, I have no problem with authority." Imbeciles, yes, but that was another story.

"The death and rebirth of a ghost means the salvation of mankind. Isn't that why you enlisted?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"The purloined blood of an Ultra runs in your veins. Do not take it for granted. It costs the corps a fortune. Do not forget."

Not likely. The corps reminded him daily.

The word purloined hadn't been used in his hearing before. Now that he thought about it, how did they get the Ultra blood infusing his body? Were captives volunteering?

Surely not. Their hatred of mankind was legendary.

What did it matter? Ultras were the enemy. They deserved no mercy.

Lights Out

Part of the anthology The Expanding Universe 4: Space Adventure, Alien Contact and Military Science Fiction, edited by Craig Martelle

He can save mankind. After he does one important thing. Die.
Join the Ghost Corps, they said. You'll live forever, they said. You'll save mankind, they said. They didn't say that to do it, first he had to die.
When Tornahdo signs on the dotted line, he puts his life into the steady hands of the mighty Ghost Corps. Three grisly deaths and three agonizing resurrections later, he's assigned duty on the space station Enderium Six.
He's facing his most dangerous mission yet, the very reason the corps exists.
Do they expect him to win? Fat chance. Tornahdo and his team are already dead and this mission is codenamed "Lights Out." No, there's more to this than he can see.
To discover the truth, he must face an unbeatable, unkillable enemy, and this time--somehow--find a way to keep himself alive...

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Blinding flash of light: his enemy peered down #SpaceOpera #SciFi

Kayelle Allen 10/17/2018 Fallen Empires

Facing Blinding Flash of Light

The infernal, cheerful whistling began again. Pietas tried in vain to escape the sound. Shackled at the ankles, hands bound behind him, he remained flat on his back. There were no comfort choices inside his pod.

No. Not his pod. He would never claim such a place.

The prison pod. The nightmare pod. A casket for the living.

Would that whistling never end?

Whoever guarded him whistled, night and day. He must have lips made of steel. How a human kept that up day after day was beyond him. Or perhaps... Did an Ultra guard him? Had one of his people come to free him?

Pietas opened his mouth to call out, and clamped it shut.

If it were one of his people, he needed to wait for them to act. They would do so when the time was right. For now, he suffered bouts of agony as feeling returned to his hands and then left in repeating cycles. His metabolism healed him, but brought pain. He focused on that, accepted the pain, welcomed it, and examined every step of its journey through his body. What one understood, one could bear.

An Ultra does not seek to escape pain. If one inflicts pain, one must bear it. Pain must be borne. Pain is a warrior's ally.

He hovered in a nightmare-filled, windowless, endless monotony of thirst and hunger.

Punctuated with unending lilts of bouncy, alert, happy, chipper whistling.

At first, he'd welcomed the sound. The rising and falling notes broke the tedium of everlasting darkness. It stopped for brief periods, but began again soon after.

He'd considered calling out and asking them to stop. He had gone so far as to open his mouth. But asking implied weakness. He acknowledged no tool of torture.

Beg mercy from humans? Never.

This was not stasis. Stasis meant cessation of thought. Of emotion. A dreamless kind of sleep. The end of awareness. A not-time.

They'd frozen his people in these pods, but they'd imprisoned him.

Or perhaps his blood ran so hot, no human force could freeze him.

The tune changed.

For the love of all that's holy, will you shut up!

Blessed silence fell. But then a blinding flash of light blared in his face like a blast of horns.

What fresh perdition was this? They'd tortured him with darkness. Now they'd torture him with light?

Pietas tried to force his eyes open, to face the torture, but after so long in darkness, the light stabbed his eyes. He twisted his head to avoid it.

"You-- you're awake?" The startled voice hovered close, muffled by the pod. "Security! Security! Prisoner Six-Six-Six is out of stasis! I say again, Prisoner Six-Six-Six is out of stasis!"

The alarm in the male voice gave Pietas a measure of pride. Even imprisoned, he engendered fear. They had taken away his name, and given him a number that among humans meant a demonic beast.

Let the legend of Pietas--by name or by number--bring fear straight into the heart of man. No... let it bring terror.

His eyes adjusted to the light, and he focused on the face hovering over the small window above him.

Was that...Ghost Six?

When the immortal Pietas is marooned on a barren world with no food and few survival tools, he knows it could be worse. He could be alone. But that's the problem. He's not.

Half a million of his people sleep in cryostasis, trapped inside their pods and it's up to Pietas to free them. He can't release one at a time. It's all or nothing. Over five hundred thousand hungry, thirsty, homeless immortals will call on him for rescue and he has no way to answer.

Universal book link http://books2read.com/u/3R1kev

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The galaxy will never be safe for humans #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 10/10/2018 Fallen Empires 4 Comments

His people permit him no choice. He must attend insipid peace talks on Enderium Six and what's worse, be polite. To humans.

In this scene, Pietas has been betrayed and trapped, and now they're coercing him to enter a lifepod.

Humans!

The leaders of his people gathered in sleep around Pietas, sealed inside their curved, steel stasis tubes.

He folded his arms. "Feast your eyes, vultures." He lifted his chin. "You think to imprison me? You think to bring me down like a hunted animal?" He indicated the other life-pods. "I will not cower before you. I will not bow. I will not kneel. I will not serve. I will never submit. Humans were made to be ruled, not by my people, but by me."

The silhouettes above him contrasted with the bright light behind them. One by one, they slipped away, until one remained.

"Fighting us accomplishes nothing." The disembodied voice echoed in the chamber. "Enter the pod, Pietas, or we'll siphon the air. You'll die."

"I'll revive. I've died countless times. I do not fear death. Death fears me."

"So be it. Since you're so set on dying, have it your way. I told you if you didn't cooperate, I would detonate the bombs within the hostages you took aboard your ship. See for yourself."

On the opposite wall, an image of his ship sparkled into life, and a bloom of light filled the screen. A mass of debris shot in all directions.

"Your crew has ceased to exist."

"That image is a farce. You would not dare to destroy the council's flagship, and you will not destroy the council. You are cowards. You lock us away in a barren room and threaten our people. This is why humans do not deserve freedom. You are worthless, miserable liars."

"Believe me, your crew is quite dead. The universe is a safer place for it."

"Untrue. It will never be safe for humans. Especially for you."

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Take from an enemy? A human? Never. #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Kayelle Allen 10/03/2018 Fallen Empires 8 Comments

Take from an enemy...

In this scene from Bringer of Chaos: Forged in Fire, the not-quite-human Six offers water to the immortal king.

Six slid their canteen off over his head and held it out to Pietas.

Accepting anything from a human, an altered one at that, had violated every instinct at first. To take from an enemy, yes. Always. Let one give you something as if you needed it? Admit a weakness before an enemy?

Never.

But this was Six.

Pietas took it.

Ultras could go days without water, but they consumed it when they had it. He wiped one dusty hand across his mouth. The satisfaction of assuaged thirst never failed to please. What simple things in life brought pleasure! In captivity, he'd dreamed of even a drop to cool his tongue. He'd sworn he'd never take water for granted again.

Six had offered it to their companions during the climb, but the entire lot refused anything a mortal's lips had touched. Yes, Six was a quasi-immortal, but to the others, that gave him even less status.

Pietas wavered on few things, but on this? Should he call the man human, mortal, quasi-immortal, or ghost? He'd elected to choose as the mood struck. But one in particular annoyed Six.

"Thanks, ghost." He thrust the canteen against Six's chest.

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Define Stress: Not being allowed to throttle an idiot #Humor #MFRWhooks #SciFi

Kayelle Allen 09/19/2018 Fallen Empires 6 Comments

In this scene, Tornahdo has been chewed out for something that in the regular army would have gotten him a commendation. Even a medal. But Ghost Corps is not regular. Not one bit. He sits down to have a drink and calm himself down, but one thought leads to another.

Tornahdo's family believed him missing in action. He couldn't go out in public. Ghosts got call signs, not new identities. He'd earned his by the way he fought, which, according to those who'd been resurrected with him, was a tornado.

"No, he's Hispanic-Terran," one had said. "He'd pronounce it different. We'll call him Tornahdo."

To which he'd offered a sweeping bow. "Sí. Gracias."

If taken prisoner, the enemy wouldn't find out who his family was, or who other ghosts were. Like any cover story, the more you lived it, accepted and believed it, the more solid it became. He was Tornahdo. Every minute. Every day. Right now, he fought the urge to kick into full tornahdo rage and slam through a certain officer's quarters. On his desk, his former commander had a framed quote, hand-stitched by his wife.

"Stress: the body's reaction to not being allowed to throttle an idiot."

How many times had the man shouted that Tornahdo was stressing him out? More than he cared to admit.

But today, he knew exactly what that quote meant.

Lights Out by Kayelle Allen

He can save mankind. After he does one important thing. Die.
Join the Ghost Corps, they said. You'll live forever, they said. You'll save mankind, they said. They didn't say that to do it, first he had to die.
When Tornahdo signs on the dotted line, he puts his life into the steady hands of the mighty Ghost Corps. Three grisly deaths and three agonizing resurrections later, he's assigned duty on the space station Enderium Six.
He's facing his most dangerous mission yet, the very reason the corps exists.
Do they expect him to win? Fat chance. Tornahdo and his team are already dead and this mission is codenamed "Lights Out." No, there's more to this than he can see.
To discover the truth, he must face an unbeatable, unkillable enemy, and this time--somehow--find a way to keep himself alive...
Lights Out is in the Science Fiction/Space Opera anthology The Expanding Universe Vol 4, edited by Craig Martelle out Sept 17, 2018
https://kayelleallen.com/lights-out-save-mankind/

Read more →

Category: Science Fiction Books

Colonize the Galaxy 1 book at a time #Astronomy #SciFi #MFRWhooks

Colonize the Galaxy

The Dragon Dagger and the Ritual of Strength #SciFi #MFRWhooks

The Dragon Dagger

Watch Pietas perform the Ritual

Origin of Pietas

Forged in Fire

Light blared like a blast of horns #SciFi #MFRWhooks

A Blast of Light

What is Stress: Not being allowed to throttle an idiot #Humor #MFRWhooks #SciFi

What is Stress? Working with idiots...

Lights Out by Kayelle Allen

Heat: Empathy? Or was that the fire? #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Heat: Empathy? Or was that the fire?

“I do believe in ghosts” — these ghosts are real #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

I do believe in ghosts!

Lights Out

Blinding flash of light: his enemy peered down #SpaceOpera #SciFi

The galaxy will never be safe for humans #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Humans!

Bringer of Chaos: the Origin of Pietas

Take from an enemy? A human? Never. #SpaceOpera #MFRWhooks

Forged in Fire

Take from an enemy...

Define Stress: Not being allowed to throttle an idiot #Humor #MFRWhooks #SciFi

Define Stress? Working with idiots...

Lights Out by Kayelle Allen