“Fiction based on imagined future scientific or technological advances and major social or environmental changes, frequently portraying space or time travel and life on other planets.”
Check Dr Wesley’s hard- sci-fi short story, The Fates Of Evil Men. Available on Amazon for just 99c.
It’s nearly 40 years in the future. Planet Earth has been decimated by both climate change and horrific biological weapons. The U.S. has divided into four countries giving many states independence from Washington D.C.
Captain Mary Carpenter has to investigate the hideous murder of an Islamic informer to her Dallas, Texas police department. There are two roads she must explore.
Was it Islamic followers of the Holy Allah Movement taking out a traitor to their cause? Or was it the Tex-Zis, the Texas-Nazis wanting to purify their state of all non-whites?
Either way, the danger of an incurable skin-splitting virus threatens Dallas. Can Mary Carpenter stop the cold-blooded mass killers?
Spy-Fi fans should enjoy Wes Britton’s new short story, “The Alien Who Never Was.” (Spy fans likely know what the title alludes to.) This tale of espionage on Beta-Earth is ready for your hungry Kindle at–
“If you know where your enemy is going to attack from, that is a great advantage to you, is it not?”
“An immense advantage.”
But what if that advantage is a clever ruse dreamed up by a half-alien using a trick he learned from the history of his father’s home planet? Throw in a diverting sexy spy to spice up the action and you get “The Alien Who Never Was,”
“The Blind Alien is a story with a highly original concept, fascinating characters, and not-too-subtle but truthful allegories. Don’t let the sci-fi label or alternate Earth setting fool you–this is a compelling and contemporarily relevant story about race, sex, and social classes.”
Still priced at just 0.99c for the ebook.
The epic opens when Malcolm Renbourn, a young history teacher, walks into an ordinary bank on an ordinary day. Suddenly, he feels excruciating pain. Unexpectedly, he loses his sight and discovers he has been drawn against his will across the multi-verse to a slave-holding country on a parallel earth. He doesn’t understand a single word he hears, but he soon comprehends that he is the focal point in the quest to end a plague that kills three out of four male babies their first year on Beta-Earth.
Branded state property, he must escape, but where can a blind man in a strange world dominated by desperate scientists run? And on a world where polygamy is the norm, how can Malcolm Renbourn adapt into becoming the husband of five independent wives who never expected to be the mothers of a generation a planet hopes to carry the genes that will change everything? And that’s just part of the story.
Excerpt from The Wayward Missiles. Hard-scifi by Wesley Britton.
Available on Amazon 99c
The following scene was culled from the short story, “The Wayward Missiles” set during the Alman Civil War. We see Larakey Rimudas, the leader of a Kirip resistance cell, and Jolcolm Renbourn, the half-alien son of the “Blind Alien” from Alpha-Earth, hunting missile parts the Almans are manufacturing to create new and more deadly weapons.
Less than an half-hour later, Larakey, Jolcolm, and their company laid low in the brush along a gravel road where a giant tree had fallen across the gravel. Waiting for the Alman transports was now a matter of quiet patience.
As their wait continued for longer than they expected, Jolcolm speculated, “It could be that they have finished their move. We may be too late to grab a missile from them.”
Larakey softly replied, “There will be another. We know at least one transport is on the move. Patience is our only weapon right now.”
“While we have this time to burn, there’s something I want to ask you, Larakey, something important, regarding your daughter, Hiqqa.”
“You’d like her to be your first wife. I think everyone knows that, young Renbourn. On one finger, I like that idea. On another, what would happen to Hiqqa if you are killed? Her heart would be shattered.”
“All I can do is try to get killed not.”
“That is a good thing to hope for. So we can resume this conversation when the fighting is over.”
Suddenly, the company heard the motor of an Alman truck pulling up in front of the fallen tree.
The rebels saw one soldier run up to the passenger side of the driver’s cabin, get orders to move the obstruction, and saw five Almans go up to move the tree while two others guarded the truck from one side of the road, two others did the same on the other.
But, very quickly, the tree-movers realize they needed more muscle to dislodge the tree. So one soldier from each side of the road abandoned guard duty to help out.
Nah Olot, not the only rebel feeling itchy trigger-fingers, whispered to her commander, “Larakey?”
Jolcolm whispered with conviction, “We can take them.”
Again Larakey ordered, “Wait. One more minute.”
The Almans moved the tree a foot or so, but that was not nearly enough clearance. So they called for the two remaining guards to help.
The guards shouldered their chrons and headed for the tree. As their sergeant commanded everyone to “Lift!”, the twenty rebels stormed out of the bushes and trees and mowed down all the Almans they could see.
Nah Olot ran behind the truck and stopped, his chron pointed into the covered bed. He paused, a big smile forming on his face.
At the same time, Jolcolm stood at the commander’s window, his chron pointed at the commander’s head. Flancono covered the driver on the other side of the truck.
Jolcolm ordered the commander to come out quietly, and the haughty woman complied.
“You make a big mistake,” the commander said. “My Colonel expects this truck soon. If it arrives not on schedule . . .”
Smiling, Jolcolm replied, “Take off your clothes.”
“What? I will do no such thing. I am an officer of the Alman Land forces . . .”
In response, Jolcolm fired a dart between the commander’s feet. The commander started undressing.
While Jolcolm watched the Luntaist, Larakey stepped up to the back of the truck, several of her soldiers joining her.
Her eyes widened with disbelief when she saw Nah Olot in the back of the truck next to stacks of pravine cases. He popped a bottle open and took a big chug.
Looking at Larakey’s face, Nah Olot observed, “It seems we have captured their pravine provisions!”
While most of the soldiers let loose with a big cheer as Nah Olot began passing around bottles, Larakey’s shoulders slumped as she turned away. If she didn’t fear being seen, she wanted to cry with disappointment and torment. All those corpses lying in the road over pravine? War was such an abominable waste. She would never forget her decisions this day. Would her sleep ever be peaceful again?
Near the front of the pravine truck, the Luntist commander dropped her pants and stood rigidly in her underpants and not much else.
Nodding with acceptance, Jolcolm instructed “Now, run!”
The Alman started running in the direction the truck was heading before Jolcolm stopped her and ordered her to run back where the truck had come from. As she ran past the back of the truck where the exhilarated Kirippeans were enjoying their unexpected bounty of potent drinks, she got a rousing round of cheers, laughter, and applause.
Larakey approached Jolcolm and told him what the truck contained. She complained, “No missile parts, no secret components, just pravines. Those bodies up there died for pravines!”
Jolcolm looked intently into Larakey’s eyes, knowing what he would find. That haunted expression of those who had made important judgment calls that resulted in catastrophe.
He had known that expression all his life – his family had been at the center of more than their share of earth-shaking events.
So he knew he should speak of things much less intense than slaughtering Almans to distract Larakey. “From what I hear back there, the troops are enjoying this cargo. And, at least, we have another truck. We need to get it off this road and around that tree. Could be a major pain considering the difficulties the Luntaists had with it.”
Suddenly his ears perked up and he stood stock still. “Listen,” he advised as he heard a distant whistle in the sky. Both Larakey and Jolcolm were innvigorated by the sound, both knowing what it meant.
Larakey cried, “Come with me!” The pair raced up the hill on the one side of the road.
At the hill’s top, Larakey looked up and pointed, “There!”
A beam or so away, a missile zoomed through the sky. But, it looked like it was wobbling as it swerved to the left and fell to the earth in a fast descent. After it disappeared behind some distant trees, Jolcolm and Larakey wore puzzled expressions. For there was no explosion.
“It exploded not,” Jolcolm mused.
With enthusiasm, Larakey replied, “Let’s go find it! Hurry!” They dashed back down the hill to the truck.
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