End of the World: Blue Star Series

5 Jul

 

Return to the End

An energy enveloped the Phoenix soldiers, distorting their senses and pulling at their bodies.  For a moment, they felt their feet move forward while their brains remained behind.  From Fifth World, the Stonehenge and Pyramid merged into a glob of colors, smeared and warped like strings of clay.  Their bodies and souls crossed against one another like ghosts passing through an arm.  Coldness showered their bodies but they felt warm all over.

 
From the remaining Special Forces sent to Blue Star, fourteen soldiers survived, landed on Fifth World and then crossed through the portal.  More than twice of their numbers had been killed in operations, accidents, Scragg attacks, ceramic warriors and animals.

 
As the crossing finished, their feet touched copper plating, and their ears heard the rushing of hollow sounds.  It took several minutes before their minds caught up to their feet.  Their eyes focused on a cloud of army greens and blacks covering sweaty, bruised and tired bodies.  Copper surrounded them, smooth and cut into a bell shape.  A ramp led upward into a cave underground.  Above their heads, a zip cord of lights dangled and brightened the ceiling.

 
For just a moment, Colonel Poul Flagstaad feared that they had returned to Fifth World, but then Earth’s weight pressed onto him.  He could feel it.  The feeling was heavy and humid like the looming shadow of an aggressive storm.  It could not be shooed away with an arm wave.  The stresses of so much pain and anger pushed onto his shoulders.

 
He counted his Phoenix soldiers, including those that they would have considered enemy combatants two weeks ago.  They were all present, except Commander Libertine, Dr. Spietz and Gunner Mech who chose to stay on Fifth World.  The Colonel was still dumfounded by Gunner Mech, a combination of two people merged into one individual, and then gifted with some phantom energy.  Poul pushed the thoughts from his mind, discarding the facts as if they were reminiscent of a vivid dream.  He was glad to return to Earth, to see his wife, his daughter, his house; just to kiss the ground of a civilized world of duty and honor.

 
He looked to his son, Captain Knud Flagstaad.  His eyes were still glazed from the odd trip across space.  When looking in the mirror, Poul had always thought that his son’s eyes were brighter than his; Poul’s eyes were dark and brown, and his son’s retained brightness between those brown lines.  His son looked about, evaluated their environment, and then led the soldiers out of the bell via the ramp.  The soldiers did not consider raising their weapons as they dragged their feet behind the Captain.  They could not perceive something hostile at the top of the bell, within the confines of the cave walls.  It would have made no difference anyhow; they were out of ammunition.

 
When reaching the top, they found Native Americans surrounding them on all sides.  The eleven Elders sat calmly, seeming to be subdued as if reaching the end of a prayer just before the soldiers’ arrival.  The Elders were not surprised, shocked or dismayed.  They expected them.  For a moment, the Colonel’s fears that they had returned to Fifth World resurfaced.  But then he realized that the Elders were Native Americans and not the Petasanwee from Fifth World.

 
One Navajo appeared to be an officer of law but the Colonel didn’t recognize the uniform.  “I am George Ankti.  Captain of the Navajo Tribal Police.”

 
“We’re in a reservation?” Private Beck asked in confusion, still not completely awaken from the crossing.  After three weeks on a space station and then an alien planet, the past experiences started to feel like a dream, drifting farther away.

 
Trying to conceal his offense, Ankti corrected, “The Navajo Nation welcomes you back home.”  He maneuvered through three soldiers and reached Fiona Marx hiding in the center.  Recognizing her, he said, “Welcome home, Detective Marx.  Durst is waiting for you.”

 
She blew the hair from her face, scraggly brown and blond strands suffering from a lack of bathing and hygiene.  She would have never concerned herself with her appearance on Fifth World but then she was embarrassed after returning to Earth.  “Durst is still here?  How much time has passed?”

 
“Eight years.”

 
Private Beck turned to the concerned Detective Fiona Marx.  “Eight years for you but we only stayed for a few days.  Like a vacation for us.”  The soldiers turned to the jocular Private, curious how he could have a light mood after everything they suffered.

 
Poul looked to his right.  A rock painting was sitting beneath three zip cord lights.  The stone was obviously moved from somewhere else.  The picture depicted men sprouting from the ground like plants, within the confines of a rectangle.  Symbols surrounded the picture; one that resembled a swastika within a sun but the symbol’s meaning was older than the Nazi’s distortion of it.  Other people stood on top of the rectangle, following a jagged path towards the right.

 
Ankti nodded before raising his volume to speak to Colonel Flagstaad in the back of the soldier line.  “I am sure your governments are waiting for you.  Durst should be explaining your arrival to one of your Presidents.”

 
Colonel Flagstaad’s heart felt burdened, like a weight was pressed into it.  All of the stresses returned to his body as if they were waiting for him on Earth.  He focused on a lantern teetering on a nail clubbed into a rotten timber.  The light passed shadows across the rock walls.  He looked to the ceiling.  The cave stretched upward into a small opening at the very top.  A sailing ship rested to his left.  On a normal day, he would have found the existence of an outdated vessel trapped underground as being unusual but the last three weeks taught him different.  The vessel reminded him of the Wakende Draeck, the sailing ship grounded on the shore where Fiona Marx had lived for many years, stranded on a beach outside of the Caretaker’s Pyramid.  Nothing seemed strange anymore.

 
“We’re home.”  Fiona Marx exhaled sharply at her own comment.  The spoken words were like a towel wiping away the surprise and confusion from the soldier’s faces.  Their shoulders rolled downwards, and their knees unbuckled.  “Returned to the beginning of my journey.”  She looked at her feet and whispered, “It feels wrong.”

 
Ankti nodded carefully, seeing the fatigue and confusion in everyone’s eyes.  He addressed Detective Marx, “You are the first to return.  We have not been able to reactivate the portal since your departure with Mech.”  He saw Lieutenant Arielle Duperey’s head raise at the name.  Her expression drew impatient as soon as their eyes locked, and she combed fingers through her short hair as if to warn Ankti from confronting her.  Officer Ankti retreated from her glance.  “Did he not return with you?”

 
The soldiers looked to each other, mystified; they were still trying to remember the last few days.  All of them were feeling much the same, a heavy burden of stress from Earth and the lingering memories drifting away like an untied boat drifting into the sea.

 
Captain Flagstaad spoke up, “Um, Mech is staying behind.”  He half snickered before he explained, “He waits for the human race on the other side.  If you can get past the warriors.”

 
“The first few groups of your people were killed by those ceramic warriors!” Fiona reminded the Native Americans.  She knew that Mech had warned the Navajo from sending people across and wondered what they were thinking when they sent those people to be killed.

 
“We understand,” an Elder recognized the warning while gathering to his feet uneasily.  He was a gnarled old man, whose gray hairs clung to his back like Velcro.  “I am Peta Ptaysanwee.  The Mech warned us from returning so we waited.  The portal now stands available for my people.”  The old man wobbled on his legs as he approached.  “The Fifth World awaits us.”  As in afterthought, he pulled a cane from behind him.

 
“That’s ridiculous!” Colonel Flagstaad blurted.  The abruptness of his voice startled the other soldiers.  The Native Navajo remained still and calm.  “If you wish to go, then do so,” he growled.   “We need to return to our duties.”  He looked across the soldiers’ faces.  “We need to bury our dead.”

 
“A great many dead must be buried,” stated the Elder.  Peta Ptaysanwee held a strong grip around the head of his cane that was shaped into a smooth and flat stone.  His thumb rubbed across its head as if drawing magic from it.

 
Something about the Elder reminded the Colonel of the Petasanwee.  Both Native Americans had a similar spirituality and serenity.  They spoke truths that would riddle the frazzled mind.  “What are you talking about?”
Ankti and the old man exchanged looks.  Then Ankti announced, “A war had begun.  If you wish to return to duties, the war awaits you.  I am sure whatever powers forced your people out there will finish them here.”
“I beg your pardon…?” the Colonel sneered.

 
The old man wobbled closer.  “The Blue Star streaked the night’s sky.  The crash into China’s Sambus airbase was the spark that set off the gasoline.  The world is at war.  Thousands have already died.  Billions will never make it.”  The Colonel crossed his arms in defiance.  The old man nodded.  “Is the portal open on both sides now?”

 
No one knew the answer.  Everyone looked back and forth, searching for someone to answer.  Gunner would have known the answer.  Oddly, the person who would have been able to answer the question had been transformed into Gunner Mech, a merging of Edward Dugan and the Mech.  They did not completely understand it, they accepted it but never understood any of it because they didn’t want to believe.  Their comrade and the mysterious cyborg had changed into something different, a wizard that conjured magic from his living copper body.

 
Captain Flagstaad looked back at the portal.  Its copper sheen became dull as if light dimmed behind the walls.  “I don’t think anyone here really knows, old man.  But Gunner Mech suggested that it was time for this exodus.  I would think that the answer would be ‘yes’; but we did not know how to operate it in the first place.”

 
“Very well.”  The old man nodded his head and walked up the steep pathway towards the cave’s opening.

 
A few seconds passed before Ankti gestured for the Phoenix to follow him through the opening.  “You can leave.  Go back to your… nation states.”
The soldiers herded up the slope, their feet sliding and scraping against the rocky path.  Colonel Flagstaad couldn’t help to reach out and touch the sailing ship’s hull.  A smirk bent over his lips when feeling the raw wood tickling his fingers.  Removing his hand, the weariness of the last month was starting to beat down on his body.  The mission was over, and he could return to his wife.  It was a victory for him but he dreaded the response from his Superiors.  He was sure that they would see it as a failure but he didn’t care.  It was a stupid mission in the first place, he concluded.

 
As they reached the top, they discovered a plain of green grass with large swaths of land eaten away by buffalo.  Douglas was confused by the richness of the soil and vegetation.  The state of Nature was not what he expected for Arizona from what he had read.

 
“Buffalo.  More buffalo.”  Private Beck looked to his fellow soldiers for a response.  “I think they are following us.”

 
“American buffalo,” corrected Douglas.

 
Lieutenant Ehud Shamir managed a light chuckle in response.  He had lost two comrades during the mission.  All he had left was his friendship with Private Beck.  He knew Yosef Barak’s family and was not sure how to explain the loss.  He figured that the American and Israeli governments would devise some lies to cover-up the truth.  After concealing so many lies during countless missions, the lies were starting to taste like sand.  He so desperately wanted to tell the truth to their loved ones, give them some peace; some reassurances of their sacrifice.  Their lives had not been lost in vain like a work accident or made-up car bombs that never happened.

 
Private Douglas was shaking his head.  “This land is far more lush than I expected.  If we are in Arizona…?”

 
“You are,” Captain George Ankti confirmed.  “The Navajo Nation.  This has been going on for the last eight years.  Animals come.  Life flourished.  Plants and creatures that were thought to be extinct or even mythical have been slowly returning to Earth.”

 
Private Douglas watched the Navajo Captain, and then his eyes drifted towards the Elders sitting in a circle and speaking to their spirits.  Douglas felt drawn to that place.  He wasn’t sure why that was the case but he needed to stay.  His military discipline dictated that he had to return to base and be debriefed.  But there was something familiar about the land, almost beckoning like a Siren’s call.  He just hoped the calling didn’t lead to something dangerous.

 
Douglas looked to his comrade, Private Miguel Gomez.  He was crying.  But his tears were not sad for their lost comrades: Gonzales, Hermes and Ferro.  The five Miguels were like an inseparable machine; they were sent on missions together, even when it was simple duties like driving or guarding.  They never separated.  It was a shared joke among the five of them.  Douglas wondered if the loss of their comrades had caught up to Gomez, or something else was driving those tears…  The tears separated from his eyes like water crystals, slowly drawing down his face in perfect droplets.

 
The roar of engines distracted him.  In the same direction of the sound, a billow of dust clouds approached from the south.

 
The Colonel noticed the wave of vehicles crossing the plateau.  “Are you going somewhere?”  He knew what the answer was but he still thought it was ridiculous.  Why would anyone wish to evacuate to another planet?  Life would be difficult.  They would have to fight against creatures that they barely understood.   But he saw no reason or motivation to scare them from trying.  If they wanted to chase after a fantastic dream, it was none of his concern.  It was only a matter of days before the governments reacted to the information.

 
Ankti nodded towards the vehicles.  “It is time to leave.  The Dine are invited.  Everyone who wishes for a new start.”  He turned to the Colonel.  “All are welcome, except those who wish to continue hatreds and wars.  The war does not belong there.”

 
The Colonel’s muscles tensed.  “It is only a matter of time.”  He inwardly admonished himself for speaking that phrase.  He didn’t want to start a conflict with the Native Americans.

 
But Ankti didn’t take the bait.  He didn’t accept his opinion but was mildly amused at his lack of belief.  “When the first bus empties, you may take the vehicle to the nearest town.  We will point you into the right way.”

 
“And the bus?” Captain Flagstaad asked.

 

 

Captain Ankti shrugged while barely turning his head in response, “Do what you will with it.”

 

 

copyright 2013, 2014
by Jax E. Garson

 

 

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The Scandal of Vampire Cults Trailer

21 Jun

Watch trailer here: 

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Space Station Apocalypse

19 Apr

 

newcoverlrg

 

Excerpt: Space Station Apocalypse

 

Dangling In Destiny

 
August 28th

 

Dr. Eckhart dangled in the Destiny module. It made him feel safe to wander in there, like a rubber ball bouncing endless in a long test tube. There were no current experiments running inside the science racks but Dr. Eckhart hadn’t come to oversee any experiment. He stared longingly into the window, an unobstructed view from other modules and solar panels. He pretended that on the other side- orbiting one of those many stars- a similar mind from an alien world was staring straight back at him.

 
Dr. Eckhart wasn’t the happiest American on board the International Space Station, ISS. He was the only American, amongst two Russians, one Swede, two French and one Spaniard. While he would dabble to menial duties, the rest of his crewmates spent their time discussing the politics of the nation states. He had little in common with most of them. Ironically, he had more in common with the Algerian, but he had been rushed off the ISS. The Algerian government was so adamant about removing their man that they convinced China to send up a modified Xian H-10 stealth fighter to retrieve him.

 
It was strange for Eckhart to see the Xian. Before he became an astronaut, he had been a military pilot for six years. He had a close call with an earlier model during the Gold Rush War. Outside of that incident, he hadn’t seen one in service since then. When he had seen it approach the ISS, a moment passed when his heart skipped a beat as it aimed towards the docking port. Instinctively, his feet had pressed the pedals of his fighter, feeling nothing but the zero G air. Even after the modifications to the H-10, the bird was just as fat as he remembered, including the matte gray paint and blemished red stars.

 
Over the last twenty years, most of the nations had failed to fund their respective space missions and pooled their resources together into one collective Western Space Administration. By the time the ISS had been completed, it was already obsolete and decaying. The ISS was supposed to be decommissioned several times in the last 20 years, but they lacked the resources to construct a new one and to discharge the old. Just like Dr. Eckhart.

 
Eckhart had logged the most hours on the station, the same reason that Vice President Finn pressured him to accept another mission. While considering his retirement, he had received a few job offers outside of the Western Space Administration but he hadn’t perused them thoroughly. He knew himself well, retirement would be busy with something if he hadn’t found something to distract himself. He was never prone to sit around and watch life pass by.

 

The added mission before his retirement never troubled him until he surveyed his fellow crewmates. He had little in common with the younger generation of astronauts, with the exception of the commander who seemed to never retire. She aged gracefully…for a hag, thought Dr. Eckhart jokingly.

 
During his stay, they had spent their time repairing satellites, redirecting and upgrading them. The rest of the crew surveyed the violent fluctuations in the Earth’s climate. It was hard to believe the dramatic climate changes that systematically ravaged the world. He had lost two houses to floods and one in a wildfire, in the same city. Islands were underwater. Refugees were migrating to any shoreline. Food was difficult to sustain a routine cultivation, especially for a mass of nine billion people.

 
Something drifted towards the station; a small speck streaked between stars and approached the ISS. It was slow at first, barely noticeable. Its pattern seemed unnatural, excluding a random asteroid. His first thoughts concluded that it was another shuttle. He couldn’t remember anything scheduled for the next two days. No satellite interception or re-supply spacecraft were scheduled for rendezvous.

 
Dr. Eckhart floated towards the closest hatch and plucked the computerized clipboard from the wall. Rechecking the schedule, he thumbed through pages on the computer pad. He found no mention of the interception of a satellite for several days. He looked again through the porthole. As it got closer, he considered that it was the reflection of the ISS, but he knew that the windows had been treated with a non-reflective material. The object was real, and it was moving fast. Too fast.

 
“What is that?” One of the French scientists said from the other side of the module. His mustache twitched as he beckoned his fellow crewmates to come to the window.

 
There was something odd about it. It looked older than the ISS. Its components, the modules, the solar arrays, even the umbilical attachments were human-made but they seemed older, rusted and outdated. Its solar panels were flat-faced, unlike the newer convex panels that were replaced on the ISS, a concave glass designed to increase the photon exposure to the panels. The rogue station had thrice the number of voltaic solar arrays, making the station appear like a floating dandelion seed.

 
The scientists crowded into the Destiny module and quickly gawked at the monstrosity of metal hurtling towards them. Their fingers pressed against the glass as if they could touch the rogue space station. Using a handkerchief, the Spanish scientist wiped the smeared fingerprints from the window before blowing his nose.

 
“Is it Chinese?” asked the Russian.

 
“Are there any left? Wasn’t one destroyed and another abandoned? Drifting in the middle of space?” The Spaniard’s eyes were permanently attached to the window as he spoke.

 
The Russian scientist winced his right eye. “Lóngmén Shān was destroyed. Retaliation for our blessed motherland, for what they did to our comrades on the Aries.”

 
“There was no retaliation. It was an accident,” said the Swede.

 
The second Russian defended, “It was no accident! There was an Afghan on board.”

 
“That doesn’t mean he sabotaged the MPCV. There would be no reason to prevent it from reaching Mars.”

 
Commander Libertine flew passed Dr. Eckhart intending to join the crew on the opposite side of the module. Realizing it would have been impossible to catch a clear sight of the station, she turned back and joined the isolated American. She rotated upright and grabbed the clipboard from his hands as if scolding a child who was holding an axe. Her short hair was graying, her face showed sharp lines on the edges of her cheeks but she still retained a womanly handsomeness.

 
When she announced information to the crew, it always sounded like orders in her husky tone. “Whatever it is, it’s new. We need to report it. Watch for details as it passes. Anything might be useful to help us understand it. I have already contacted the governments. They are a flutter with questions and ideas. They’re chasing their tails and hissing accusations across their solid oak desks. We’ll have to wait until they settle down before we get a clear message from them. But for now, this is classified. No letters to home about this.”

 
“How do we know that? Can’t it be one of the other ones?” the Swede insisted.

 
“Tiangong sits in a museum, too big to return to space. They over-extended her structure and salvaged some of the modules for the Dìhuáng. The Dìhuáng remains abandoned. It drifts on an aggressive elliptical orbit. Most of the time, it is too far for any vessel to reach it. Once every other year, it can be boarded and used for a limited time. Last time, they tried to correct the problem and failed. The failure was blamed on the rigged pieces of the Tiangong. The pieces are too fussy together.”

 
The Spaniard sniffed his nose and pressed the handkerchief to it. “Another theory is something knocked it from its orbit on Dec 21, 2020.”

 
“I remember that. It was a big hype about it being a sign of the end of the world. Miscalculated from the Mayan date in 2012,” the Swede stated.
“Yeah, people can be real stupid. Anyhoo, the Dìhuáng is not scheduled for another nine months,” Commander Libertine assured.

 
“Certainly overcompensating with stations.” The Russian chuckled.
“They made them in bulk. Plenty of room for failure and open for a higher potential of success with the many over one.” Commander Libertine scrolled through the clipboard’s pages.

 
“The Xióng’er Shān is being built. It’s the only one left. Their finances may not allow them to finish,” Eckhart added and then stabbed a finger into the glass. “But that’s not it! It looks too old. Like it was built in the 90s.”
“It looks American,” the Russian said.

 
“That’s not ours.” Eckhart felt compelled to defend his nation’s sake as the only representative on board. “It’s not Skylab, but it looks similar to some of the designs. But that would put it in the 70s. And the further back we go, the more ridiculous it sounds.”

 
“Some secret operation perhaps? That your nation has not exposed?” accused the Russian.

 
“Not likely.” Eckhart twisted his head at an angle as the station hurtled closer. “The power is off.”

 
“It is at a strange angle. I find it unlikely that it has been orbiting at that steep of a rake. If it has passed our planet, like the Dìhuáng, a few somebodies would have spotted it with a pair of binoculars.” Commander Libertine came so close to the window, her nose touched the wall.

 
Dr. Eckhart snorted. “I was more concerned that it was going to hit us.”

 
“Are the cameras working?” the Russian asked.

 
“Actually I turned them off,” Commander Libertine answered.
“Why?”

 
“The internet connection for the world astronomy classes. The entire world would have seen it! It didn’t take long for the governments to agree that I should shut them off.”

 
“Someone get a camera,” the Spaniard demanded.

 
While the crowd of scientists were fixated with the station, the Swede became preoccupied with a nearby computer. He was typing away when he aggressively tapped a monitor as if to convince the computer that there was a mistake. “Ma’am, I’m getting a radiological alarm.” He added with some definition in his tone, “A hot one.”

 

by Jax E. Garson

 

Copyright 2011, 2013, 2014

 

Earth is on the verge of World War III… China has annexed Taiwan and other islands. Arab League has ousted the people of Israel, sending them away in ships. Militaries mount and prepare for war.

Year 2040, a space station appears in Earth‘s orbit. The station is twice the size of ISS and constructed with modules that are similar to Skylab and MIR. Confronted with the mysterious station built in the 20th century, the Western Space Administration sends a Special Forces team to investigate. But there is someone else interested in the station, backing the enemies of the west. It becomes a race between the western powers and the Chinese, Arab League and African Union.

Colonel Flagstaad is given command of a ragtag team of Special Forces. They train quickly for an operation in space with varied representatives from France, Great Britain, Russia, Israel, Denmark, America and Mexico. Even a dog! The Colonel must grit his teeth while training along side a daughter-in-law who hates him, a doctor who irritates him, and a Special Forces team of silly fools.

An imposter walks among them.

What are the answers to this mysterious station? Is it the sign of the end of the world? Will this race to secure the Blue Star station spark the beginning of WWIII?

Contains: adult themes, language, sexual terms and violence

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military science fiction, end of the world, end times, science fiction, sci fi, syfy, one percent, climate change, 99 percent, economic collapse, jax e garson, kindle, ebook

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Amongst the Shadows video chapters

16 Mar

After the Earth was ravaged by wars, the governments collapsed and the corporations thrived. Humanity evolved with animals, converging human and animal DNA together making the breeds. Robin Luddites become crime bosses that hire contracts to balance out the corrupt corporations.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

In a world where everyone is either a criminal or a victim.

Darius Jones returns to Dallas to investigate the deaths of his brothers. After Darius’ supposed death; hiding for over ten years, he has to navigate through corporate corruption to find the killers. He assembles an unlikely crew to achieve his goals and runs into trouble every step he takes. The mystery reveals secrets to his own past that brought him to his current fate.

Gus Sips is a naive Loader, looking for someone to hire him for criminal jobs.

Wimpy is an old-school grunt; an arrogant mercenary who lives and breaths the chaotic gun-toting, blood soaked streets of the dying cities.

Dr. Steiner is a quirky Tech Farmer, with little business and poorly run staff.

Magis Dern is a loud mouthed tool with little ambition but varied experience.

Tu Fasse is a slick, clever woman; an escort on the side and a ruthless contract during the day.

With this team of misfits, it seems doubtful that Darius will come out of it alive but he has to try… because Gerrick was family.

This contains adult material, sex, violence, language and adult situations.

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Restoration of Atlantis excerpt

20 Feb

neweden

 

Poul was surprised that the soldiers and crew had the energy and determination to work so hard. He was impressed. He would have promised them raises, promotions and medals if he could, but all he had to offer was the honor and satisfaction to save more lives from Earth’s turmoil.

 
They drove up the river at a slow speed. The weight of the boat, the supplies, the helicopter and crew made it difficult for the diesel engine to push forward, especially with many of its components missing.

 

Restoration 004
The river was named the Crystal Waters. Its meaning was easy to understand. The bottom of the riverbed sparkled as if someone had poured blue and purple amethyst into the river. The water was perfectly clear, even after the Yggdrasil’s wake. Only a trickle of mud rippled from the propellers, but after a few seconds, the mud settled into transparency.

 
Cho noticed that the mud seemed to disperse around oval shapes. Without anyone’s permission, he took a raft, inflated it and tied a rope to the cleat and the raft. Dragged behind the Yggdrasil, he investigated the translucent fish. Catching a few of them, their bodies dissolved and deflated like jellyfish out of water. He then caught more fish into a bucket and then inspected them closely. The skin was transparent; the organs were like clear quartz.

 
After studying the fish, he began collecting riverbed rocks. Then he plucked seaweed. Cho spent most of the day and some dusk trailing behind the Yggdrasil like a tail. The Admiral had to order the curious Chinese Private to return. He almost regretted the order when Cho wandered about the yacht explaining his discoveries to everyone. The crew quietly groaned at the enthusiastic field medic.

 
The Yggdrasil spent a full day chugging up the river, and then a new morning started with a shroud of clouds puffing across the sky. The travel was insignificant; both sides of the river were lined with trees layered and piled against each other like a crowd clambering along the ropes to catch a better glimpse of a celebrity. A few drooping trees bowed towards the river, its leaves brushing along the waters to drink.

 
Daniel Terron spent the entire trip on the bow, gazing over the river and the land. He slept on the bow’s deck and never wandered far from that area. He seemed annoyed at the technology as if affronted by its reality. He had questioned the Admiral several times before leaving, explaining that the hike to Zhamuerea would only take five days on foot, but the Colonel and Admiral insisted on the Yggdrasil.

 
Neither of them wanted to risk fighting on tired legs. They also didn’t want to waste any time. They remembered the chaos of Earth. Every day was another day of terror for those defenseless people.

 
Both of them knew that the mission wasn’t going to be a simple hike through the woods. They may not understand the Petasanwee ways but they respected them. But the Admiral and Colonel were trained in their own ways, and that meant bringing along the supplies and tools that they were accustomed to using.

 
When someone passed Daniel Terron, he would shake his head like a disapproving father. The soldiers and crew gave him a respectful distance. They offered him food but he only ate from his own provisions. He spoke to no one and ignored the crew’s idle chatter.

 
After several kilometers, the river opened up. The embankments rose into short cliffs; gray marble walls chiseled as if from dragon claws. Trees still gathered along the cliff tops but were fewer in numbers. On occasion, the river widened into pockets where waterfalls splashed into the mouth. Beck counted the waterfalls, “Twenty-three. Twenty-four.” When he reached thirty-seven, the river divided into two paths.

 
Seeing the divide in the river, the Admiral ordered the driver to reduce speed. He would have dropped anchor until Daniel Terron entered the wheelhouse and directed them towards the western tributary.
The driver followed Daniel’s instructions, and the Yggdrasil slowly turned into the narrow passage. The trip was another fifteen minutes before the tributary opened into a small lake surrounded by steep slopes of rock and brush.

 
A dock extended from the center, beautifully carved with birds. A staircase, designed like a serpent’s neck, slithered to the top. Tall posts stood from the dock every third mooring, and on their tops, a carved talon gripped lamps between wooden claws. Two ships were docked on opposite sides, wagging back and forth like old men on rocking chairs. Their sails were shaped like large Dragon wings, fanning quietly against the masts.
There was no one to greet them, no guards and no crew. The Colonel presumed that lack of guards would change when the Petasanwee and Samyra witnessed his people obliging their darker sides of theft and perhaps sabotage. For now, everyone was pleased at their freedoms until they saw something that they wanted on someone else’s property. Poul didn’t see his viewpoint as pessimistic; he thought the Samyra were naïve.
The driver plucked switches to stop the engine, and the yacht smoothly slowed until it rubbed against the central dock. Crew quickly snagged the mooring posts with ropes, looping circles around them and tying them on ship’s cleats. As the rope’s slack stretched, the boat buckled and groaned as it pulled on the moorings.

Restoration 005
Daniel Terron was the first to abandon ship, glad to leave the metal behemoth behind him and lead the Phoenix on the last leg of his part of the journey. The Colonel signaled for Arielle, Knud and Ehud to join them. The Admiral looked confused by the Colonel’s slim choice in escort and even pointed at the wide selection of prepped and armed soldiers to join them. The Colonel waved at the Admiral as if wiping away dust off a shelf.

 
Poul saw no need for violence. Daniel Terron was confident of his safety, and the Samyra should not have hostile feelings against them. The four Phoenix followed the eager Petasanwee up the stairs; Daniel scaled the steep rises with better ease than the four of them.

 
When reaching the top, a covered walkway led towards the center of town. Buildings were organized in rectangular formations surrounding garden courtyards outlined by covered walkways. On the outside walls, beautifully carved animals and trees were divided by trim of a brown-purple wood. Green bamboo was bent into curved awnings and roofs. The columns and rafters were built of a reddish-orange wood, as if stained with the fire blood of dragons; its grain was drawn into black velvet lines. The columns were carved with different animal faces connected by vines; each set of eyes glared suspiciously at the intruders.

 
Gray stones marked the town’s perimeter, a short wall following the wavy slopes. The small town was dark; each house was hollow, bordered with empty porches and pergolas. Within the open doorways, the inner rooms were divided with sliding walls. The Busho Samyra didn’t seem to own much in possessions. If they didn’t know any better, they would have sworn that the town was abandoned. Daniel led the Phoenix towards the central courtyard. Rock, flower and sand gardens patched the grass square.
On one end of the courtyard, the Samyra were knelt before five statues attached and entangled by the legs. The statue faces expressed different emotions.

 
On the right side, three bells dangled on an arch. Each bell was a different size, one smaller than the other and shaped like fingernails with flute-like slits on the top.

 
Essence burned in small bowls around the meditating Samyra. Chimes gently dinged and pinged as if accompanying their lyrical chants. The entire town was assembled there, including the squirmy children at their mothers’ sides. One boy glimpsed Daniel and the soldiers; he pointed a finger at them before inserting it into his nose.

 
Daniel led the Phoenix towards the back of the courtyard and gestured that they kneel with respect to the tradition. The Phoenix obliged, staying there for several minutes before they heard the gong of the larger bell. A prayer was chanted and then the second bell gonged. Another prayer and another bell sounded before everyone kissed their palms and returned to their feet.

 
Daniel waited patiently, giving the Samyra time to recognize their presence.  Ehud watched the Samyra return to chores; the mothers shooed the children back home; workers finished closing furnaces and kilns while the others conversed politely about certain things in their native tongue. Their language had a distinctive rhythm to it with influences from Japanese and Korean. Their gowns were long silk robes with layers of sashes and scarves. Each sash had a collection of symbols representing the states of matter, magic and emotion. When a Samyra turned towards the Phoenix, they noticed their eyes, like gaseous nebulas trapped within the bounds of their pupils.

 
A tall, distinctive Samyra stood in front; humbly bowing to the people as they returned home. The Master noticed Daniel and the escort, pretended to not care while continuing to acknowledge his people reverently. He waved to the last Samyra before the Master’s head turned slightly at the Phoenix and then his lips pursed disagreeably. He gestured towards a covered walkway to invite them to walk with him, just as a trickle of rain started to patter against their shoulders. The last Samyra returned to their homes, a few remaining underneath awnings to continue their polite conversations. (What the Phoenix didn’t realize was the Samyra were watchful guards pretending to partake in idle chat.)

 
The Master appeared old but aged gracefully. A few gray strands streaked his straight hair that was bound in a long ponytail down his back. He eyed the foreigners before acknowledging Daniel Ankti Terron with a nod. For a few minutes, they spoke in two languages, both in their native tongues. They obviously understood one another, sharing a common insight on leadership and the world. A couple of times, the Master turned to eye the four soldiers.

 
Poul presumed that Daniel and the Master weren’t just passing pleasantries but speaking about the necessity of their mission. He had heard several words that he recognized as referencing the Caretaker and the gods. It seemed obvious to him that the Samyra Master would respect the wishes of the Caretaker, (maybe even Gunner Mech) over the desires of a few foreigners from Earth. He also presumed that Daniel would relay information about the Petasanwee’s emigration, something that the Colonel didn’t bother to explain to his fellow Officers. He didn’t want to alarm anyone or distract them from their mission.

 
Finally, the Samyra Master spoke English, “We had been expecting you.” Other than a slight accent, he spoke fluently. “The first assembles of your people were disrespectful to the rest of us.”

 
“They didn’t introduce themselves, either?” Lt. Duperey needled.
Poul almost smirked at his daughter’s attack. It was a fair comment but he had decided to be diplomatic. Arielle had no inclination.

 
The Samyra Master swiveled sharply but smoothly on a heel. His brows rose in pronounced accuracy. “I am Master Hoyto Fouso. I am the keeper of the disciplines of nature and man.” The Master eyed Arielle, but the obstinate French Lieutenant didn’t budge, didn’t blink.

 
Poul interrupted the awkward silence between his daughter and Master Hoyto. “We mean no disrespect. We are in a foreign land, and we are still adjusting. But we are still trying to decipher the facts.”

 
“Decipher the facts?” he echoed.

 
“Their numbers? How many? What control do they have of this Ancient Ruins of Gods’ Temple?”

 
“They cannot control something they do not understand,” Master Hoyto responded arrogantly.

 
Poul overheard Arielle make a “Pfftt” noise. He agreed with her but didn’t want to insult the Master. After all, the humans in Midtwarg may have to interact with the Samyra in the future.

 
Poul took a diplomatic ploy. “Well, we cannot allow them to desecrate the Temple. So we should stop them.”

 
“Ancient Ruins of Gods’ Temple?” Master Hoyto corrected, “Funjoumin. Or what the Petasanwee call The Temple of Three Seasons represents the five deities who watched over the lands during spring, summer and fall.”

 
“Who watches over winter?” Knud asked.

 
“We watch over the winter. We tend to our wounds, allow the soil to heal; the plant and animal to rest. The Samyra have been charged with this duty since abandoning your world ten generations ago. We are in service to its care. Much like the Petasanwee, we are caretakers. Our ancestors left because your part of the race decided that machine and the expediency of progress was greater than tending the lands and the old ways. The five deities recognized our determination and graced us with a great responsibility.”

 
“If Jenson’s followers have control, then you have failed,” Arielle argued.

 
Poul expressed concern with her comment, shaking his head and twisting brows to ward her away from confronting Master Hoyto.

 
Master Hoyto continued, pretending to ignore Arielle, “Funjoumin has been under our guard since the deities’ departure. We watch in case they shall return. Jenson’s followers cannot control what they do not understand. They have mild interferences but nothing that draws danger to any of us.”

 
“With respect, Master Hoyto,” Poul picked up his tempo, “The Temple is invaded, and the Fifth Worlders must be removed. They are interfering with many innocent lives that need a chance to live. The Caretaker cannot make contact and therefore the people cannot cross.”

 
“It is not the connection that needs repairing. The Caretaker seeks to eliminate the future before the present can reset. The other forces will diminish.”

 
Poul wasn’t sure what the Master was talking about. He continued, “We are here to help remove the Fifth Worlders. Unless you intend to allow them to continue?” The comments were more confrontational than the Colonel wanted but he didn’t see any other way to breach Master Hoyto’s wall of arrogance.

 
Fouso turned abruptly, tripping sideways in his walk. He considered the words carefully before conceding, “We have stopped others from disrupting the lands, ruining the earth, even chased and hunted them down.”

 
At those words, Poul turned to the archery guards patrolling nonchalant around them, pretending to be strolling. He looked at the arrows, a fine fletching from Griffin feathers, a red tweed shaft with flint tips. He realized that his earlier assumption was wrong. The colonists had been killed by the Samyra and not the Petasanwee. That explained why the colonists were hiding in the Dwarf mines. The Petasanwee were too timid to harm the colonists but the Samyra were warriors at heart. They may have seen his people as threats to their sovereignty, or an affront to their rites dictated by the deities.

 
According to Detective Marx and Daniel, Jenson had killed those colonists who would not serve him. He coerced the survivors to join him on a trek to the Temple, and to tap the secrets of the magical portals. He killed the remaining people who would interfere. Jenson could easily seduce the younger generations, who had only heard stories of Earth; gave them promises of soda fountains and fast food. The truth was colder.

 
“What about the Chinese? Did you kill them too? Just in case they would scare away your harvest of Dodo birds?” Knud asked with concern.
Master Hoyto looked inquisitive over the choice of words and looked to Daniel for translation. Daniel answered, “Porcheenas.”

 
“We don’t eat such creatures,” Fouso scoffed. “Only these people do.” He waved a hand at Daniel who seemed slightly offended. “The people you speak of are safe. We sent them to Goredos, the Nogares lands.”

 
“Nogares?!” Daniel exclaimed.

 
Master Hoyto twitched his head in a defiant shake. “They have not been seen for many seasons. The race is gone. If any still remained, they would be hiding forever. Which is not likely. Nogares are foul and impatient. They could not stay lying about for so long without wanting to spread harm and terror.”

 
“That’s an assumption,” Daniel stressed. “Seventeen generations may not have seen them but they could have been isolated by the algae or the copper rains. The prejudice of their impatience may be exaggerated. If they have no choice…”

 
“The Nogares killed many of the humans when they first settled the Earth but they have since been gone. They either were killed on Earth or were lost when their deities fought amongst themselves and abandoned them all to rot. The Nogares lands have been open to us for five generations. My father took me out there to fling my first arrows. The grass is flowing with red shafts and petaling beautiful flowers.”

 
“Budding is the word I think you are looking for,” Knud corrected. “But those people are ok?”

 
“I said so,” Master Hoyto challenged. He turned to the Colonel. “We will not guide you through the lands.”

 
“We do not need guides,” Poul stated.

 
“These are accomplished warriors, Master Hoyto,” Daniel defended.       “They have been given the respect of Mezcha Dor Gonner.”

 
Poul recognized the reverent respect in Fuoso’s eyes when Gunner Mech’s translated name was spoken. Poul recognized the name when Petasanwee spoke it in whispers on the plains. Even after a month, Gunner Mech had inspired respect and admiration from the locals. Poul presumed that it had something to do with his association with the Caretaker, but he couldn’t be sure if Mech’s life before the merging hadn’t added to that reputation.

 
Poul and his people had still to inspire trust among the locals. He hoped that the mission to the Temple would help with that.

 
Master Hoyto turned and faced Colonel Flagstaad. “You must take the Crystal Waters towards the east, beyond the Dwarven Mines, passed the Lonely House and around the Crescent Waterfalls. The ship should beach at the end of that curve. You will then have to cross the Shutoushey Desert.”

 
“They still guard it?” Daniel asked, obviously more familiar of the territory than the Phoenix.

 
Fuoso acknowledged with heavy nods. “They are still there. They remained to hunt and father at the feet of the plateau, waiting for their masters’ return. They will not enter the Temple out of respect but they kill all who cross the desert breadth.”

 
“And who are ‘They’?” Arielle asked.

 
“The Shutoushey who guard the Fonjuomin. The Temple of the Three Seasons as you say. The accepted translations are lost in the histories.” Master Hoyto picked up his pace to put some distance between them. While turning the corner of the walkway, he announced, “May the deities guard your travels.”

Restoration 006

 

Picture excerpt are extracted from this trailer:

 

 

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Trailer for Restoration of Atlantis

5 Feb

Restoration of Atlantis

30 Jan

 

Earth spiraled into chaos. Fire consumed the world. The oceans turned black. The animals died in masses. Ancient creatures resurfaced. Disease spread, and the dead rose. War was everywhere. Nation rose against nation; governments fought over pride. Corporations gambled over resources and played militaries against one another. In the end, the Earth was thrown into World War III, a chaos of battles overlapping into endless fighting.

 
A ragtag team of Special Forces chose to disobey orders and save the few refugees from the devastation. They used what knowledge they learned of the portals and helped the people to cross into Fifth World. Thousands were saved by the selfless acts of disobedient soldiers.

 
Colonel Flagstaad and Vice Admiral Gunner led the remaining survivors into the Bermuda Triangle. Gunner Mech opened the portal so they could enter, and then the Urda’s Well fleet pulled into Fifth World. The meek, the poor and the refugees from society’s corruption had arisen from the ashes, transported across space to inherit a new world.

 
End of the world prophecies came true, just not necessarily the way people expected.

Poul Flagstaad has returned to Fifth World, but this time, with his entire family.

Fifth World is a paradise for all people to partake in its bounty… but there is a problem. The last of Jenson’s followers still occupy the Avernus Temple. Their control of the portal has interfered with Gunner Mech and the Caretaker’s ability to bring over the last refugees from Earth. Thousands of people wait at the beach sands of Antarctica to be welcomed into the new paradise.

Once again, Colonel Flagstaad and his team are asked to assist in the problem, but they must ask the Samyra permission before entering the sacred temple. The Avernus Temple has been off limits to foreigners for many ages since the deities abandoned it.

The Phoenix rig a yacht to sail upstream. They rename it Yggdrasil. They must travel the foreign land, fight off mythical creatures and navigate around fantastic places. They are unevenly matched; their contemporary weapons are ineffectual to the magic of Fifth World.

Discover the answers to Fifth World, rediscover old mysteries and learn the answers to the human race’s cyclical history.

This book contains violence, adult situations and adult language.

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Dystopia, utopia, apocalyptic fantasy, epic fantasy, epic saga, revelations, end times, new world, native Americans, samurai, science fiction, military fiction

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