Time Masters of the Cosmos
The Callaeci peoples develop portal technology to travel between parallel multiverses and discover the Nimi peoples of the Kingdom of Nimi. The King of Nimi allows a Callaeci settlement in the Nimi province of Portgael in exchange for advanced technology, but as more Callaeci arrive, they establish a secret slave trade of Nimi for dire purposes.
When the King of planet Nimi dies, Prince Blaes is forced to overcome prejudices of his past. Alongside Nia, the enigmatic leader of an outlawed mystical order, Blaes must unite the warring Nimi and Callaeci peoples before a greater threat succeeds in their mutual destruction.
Time Masters of the Cosmos (Currently only available on Amazon)
Excerpt (Chapter 2):
Nia stepped off the Magnetic Frictionless Transportation pod, or MAT, and felt a frigid shiver run up and down her spine, despite the warm weather. The hollow cascade of countless apartment lights mixed with noxious gases and expanded into the Callaeci province of Portgael. She felt queasy. With the assimilated memories of Chi Oni as her only guide, Nia felt discomfort and frustration with the placid acceptance of injustice festering hearts of Nimi and Callaeci alike. Although the balmy spring weather felt pleasant, a bleak frost seeped past Nia’s flesh and bone into the fathomless stores of her consciousness. She closed her eyes, stilling undercurrents of spite and revenge to allow timeless serenity to wash over her like waves against fertile sand.
Nia strolled the crowded streets. People bumped into her without apology or care. Each face blended into an amorphous sea devoid of all emotion except greed, like an unstoppable tsunami of destruction. Nia sighed in resignation and poignant mourning. She weaved along the avenues, following the long erased steps Chi Oni’s memories transferred to her. Nia still struggled with assimilating too much of the woman’s lifetime during their intimate mind connection. So many haunting remembrances flooded and distorted her notion of separated self. The path of the Yinist demanded nothing less. Nia’s body still tingled with sensations never experienced in her own reality. It took twenty years to master the Yinist art of Ngaru, or telepathy, but sometimes, even Chi masters succumbed to the beast, and lost their sanity in the overwhelming cascade of entire lifetimes.
Nia turned off the crowded thoroughfare, recognizing the gate for which she searched. Discarded refuse littered the small alley from surrounding homes. Going down another connected street, Nia climbed several steps and knocked on the back door of one of the brownstones. No one answered. Nia closed her eyes to recollect Chi Oni type a series of numbers on the keypad. She did the same, and the door unlocked. Nia entered a darkened kitchen, and heightening her awareness for anything. She found the light pad and turned it on. Nothing stirred in the quiet home. Nia looked around to note the pristine condition of the kitchen. A Yinist still cared for the abode, although who remained unknown to her. The Yinist network spread too vast for grand familiarity.
“Hello?” Nia shouted. No response came. Nia quickly opened the door from the kitchen that led down to the basement. As she descended the wooden steps, she illuminated a red safelight, approached the main processor, and turned the machine on. Eight large graphics monitors blazed to life. Nia entered the password to join the local intelligence networks system. She rose, turned off the safelight, and turned on low-frequency blue lights. The black walls of the basement began to shimmer with a neon green, underground map of secret tunnels throughout the city and beyond, below her feet. Nia turned in a slow circle, reconstructing the two-dimensional drawings with her mind into their final, three-dimensional image. Once Nia felt confident of her apperception, she sat in front of the keypad, opened the machine’s processing terminal, and her fingers nimbly began typing hundreds of lines of script to create a three-dimensional map of this underground city of misery.
Nia scanned each line for errors, until she found her own rhythm suspended between frantic keystrokes and compilation verification. She pushed through cramping and eye fatigue until a detailed, underground map of the Callaeci province of Portgael on Nimi, as well as its connections across the entire planet of Nimi, came alive in an interactive, three-dimensional, graphical world. It would not take much to re-format the files into a hologram. Nia wrote encryption codes to prevent map modification and removal from the artificial intelligence networks. Soon, Callaeci and Nimi alike could no longer ignore the market of sacrificial life turning each cog in their privileged life, and feeding voracious appetites for still more energy, technology, and power. They would consume all, and nothing could be enough.
Nia typed more lines of script that would send the map to the inbox of every Nimi and Callaeci on the planet. However, such a highly encrypted code would instantly alert the secret security police, or SSP, to her location. Foreboding made her gut clench. She swallowed hard, but pushed through and continued to write a highly sophisticated, fractionated, bouncing, encryption that would slow their ability to pinpoint her location. The entire map would take fifteen minutes to upload across all Nimi. Nia smiled with maniacal contentment on making the message subject, “Nimi Slave Networks Found in Portgael.” That would get the attention of those who refused to admit the practice outlawed long ago in the Nimi-Callaeci peace treaty still flourished. Willful blindness never excused ignorance or moral pacifism. Nia pressed the enter key, and serenely rose with a large grin. If life meant anything, this act gave hers purpose. She saw the lifeless eyes of her sister in distant memories, and the smoldering anguish carried through the years finally calmed to resting peace of mind. “Rest now, dear sister,” she whispered to herself, like a Yinist chant of final relinquishment.
Nia pushed the processor chair underneath the desk, turned off the blue lights, took night vision goggles out of her pocket, put them over her eyes, and turned them on. Gathering her long, white, flowing sarong, she brought the back portion between her legs, and tied it to pants. An estimated five minutes remained before the SSP forced their way into the basement. Nia quickly went back to the processor and pressed the button to play a song that reminded her of the happiest moment of her life. On a cold, festival day, her parents walked her and her sister back home. Her parents did not even fight, per usual, the entire day. When they arrived home, her mother cooked a lavish dinner, also rare, and the song came on the frequency modulator as they all sat down to eat together, like a real and contented family.
Rhythmic, soulful bass suddenly filled the room, with orchestral strings of melodic magic high above. Blue sadness inexplicably full of hope filled the room. The smooth voice of a Nimi man harmonized, and Nia remembered her enormous childhood crush for him. His otherworldly volcanic, glass skin and glowing smile imbued her with desire to discover the world through his eyes. The imaginings of idealized, romantic love consumed that entire spring. He sang of love, and the romantics of youth reassured that he sang for her alone. Time ran out. Nia heard pounding above, followed by the shattering of the basement door give way beneath assault. The laws of Portgael now declared Nia a terrorist because of her subversive activities. Through her actions, she forfeited all rights citizenship provided her. Officially, she would disappear. Victors wrote any law they chose, and could declare one rebel or terrorist with the flimsiest of rationalizations. Nia felt neither attracted nor repulsed by those words. Only lessening turmoil and truth immediately mattered. Nia accomplished both without sacrificing innocents. Today, the Yinists could celebrate victory, and the people could freely choose what to do with such knowledge.
“Capture them all alive!” Nia heard screamed above. As the door broke, two men rushed down the stairs. Nia kicked one’s leg in the darkness, causing him to tumble over. Her night vision almost equalized an unfair fight. Two minutes still remained to complete topology dissemination. Nia found hand-to-hand against several SSPs to keep them away from the processor. The brownstone’s back-up generator meant, even with power cut, they could not stop the information. Two more officers came down the stairs. The sparing became a dance, and Nia lost herself in every milli-moment as her world slowed.
An incoming fist approached her face in excruciating clarity as Nia’s mind shot into overdrive. She shifted back to avoid the strike, and raised her arm to block another kick toward her torso. The world stagnated, and Nia wondered if she could stop this moment, reverse it, and if so, how far? Alas, Nia did not posses an object on hand that could focus that much Quanta energy. In that instant, no option to go back existed. Nia heard the chime of complete message dissemination, and laughed with delight. She continued to fight until the four overwhelmed her. A sharp punch to her mouth made her wince, and the world faded to darkness.
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