Intercosmic

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2.12 - Interrogation

May 05, 2026 Darrell S.

I expected to be dropped off at intake and be processed. Instead, they push and drag me through the station making sure every officer can see me. When they’re done with the parade, they leave me sitting in a cold interrogation room with my cuffed hands secured on the table. I can’t think of any real reason to have me here other than trying to instigate something. The whole thing is more annoying than anything else. I know they make the room cold to bother people, but I prefer the cold. Air conditioning is my best friend; without it I over heat far too easily.

A detective walks in, he’s short and thin. The white hair on his head is nearly gone, not even leaving a full ring. He slams the door behind him before slamming a notebook on the table in front of me. I don’t know if he’s angry or holding his breath, but his skin is bright red, almost purple. As he stands above me staring me down. I keep a straight face knowing that if I stood up, I’d be close to a foot taller than he is.

“So, you like beating up police officers,” he asks in a condescending voice.

“I don’t really like beating up anyone,” I respond to him in the same manner.

“It says in this notebook you sent 17 police officers to the hospital.”

I instantly start to laugh, “I didn’t touch nearly 17 police officers. You think I can be up 17 heavily protected and armed police officers? I’m honored you think I could do that but no,” actually, I probably could if I had some gear of my own.

“Okay smart ass, what do you know about the casino operations?”

“I know they do bad things there,” I keep my answer short. I’m starting to get the feeling they hope to charge me with something beyond just protecting civilians who got caught in the mess.

“And what did you do there?”

“Nothing.”

“You think if you keep quiet someone is going to rush in and save you. You’re ours and as soon as your buddies start talking, you’re going away for a long time. You put your trust in the wrong people.”

“Are you even in the right interrogation room,” a very serious question.

The officer grabs me by the collar of my shirt with one hand, pulling me towards him. With his other fist he threatens to punch me in the face for being a smart ass.”

“Beating me up before even taking a mug shot is the dumbest thing you could do,” I have to force my laughter back as I say it, but I’m so serious.

He releases me by pushing me back into my chair. The handcuffs scrape against my wrist, making me notice a bruise forming for the first time. They must be an underfunded department to still be using metal cuffs; not even those with magnetic locks. There’s better and more secure options. The officer snatches his notebook from the table and storms out of the room.

The whole process is designed to break you mentally but I’ve been in the military long enough that I’m already broken mentally. They don’t leave a clock so you have no sense of time. I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere so it doesn’t matter. At some point they may come in and offer food, a sign that they can be trusted. The problem is, I haven’t done anything, except punch a few of their coworkers in the face. The cuffs are still on, not because they feel threatened but because they want to remind people that jail is the only option left. I already knew I was going to jail so it does nothing. If anything, this is just a time to take a nap for me.

I’ve seen children open fire on people I care about. I’ve shot a kid. I’ve been blown up and lost an arm. I’ve been hit so hard by bounty hunters that I saw stars. There’s nothing they can really do to me at this point, short of killing me. I wouldn’t put that past them, but I think I’ve drawn too much attention for them to safely get away with it.

I lean forward and rest my head on my hands, but it’s uncomfortable. I settle leaning back and letting my head hang over the back of the chair. Closing my eyes, I try to think of somewhere peaceful before I can drift off to sleep.

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2.11 - Blockbuster Night pt ii

March 24, 2026 Darrell S.

With Creed making his grand entrance I don’t fight back anymore. Others still try to wrestle free from the hands of officers, some take the opportunity for greener pastures. For the police, it’s all business as usual. I’m not sure if they think they’re getting backup or they’re immune from Creed sending his men after them. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen him do it, I was a part of it once. We raided a black site run by a group of rogue Aket police officers. When they realized it was us kicking in their faces, they got even more upset, I imagine the same thing is about to happen as the ship touches down.

I’m lifted to my feet by my elbows. They’ve cuffed my hands together using zipties, as if I couldn’t just break free the thin plastic by twisting far enough. Together we watch as the shuttle lands and the boarding ramp reaches down to the ground before the door opens.

“What’s going on,” one of the cops asks.

“I don’t know, but I’m excited. Are you excited,” another asks.

“You think that’s one of the new armor-plated shuttles Invictus got?”

“It’s nice. I wonder if we can get one.”

I already knew that the best and the brightest didn’t go on to become cops, but the two that got me might just be the worst and the dimmest. I’m actually feeling bad for them. They don't know what's coming and they're just expecting backup from a Invictus even as soldiers begin to exit in full uniform. There's some loud posturing between a man I believe to be the police captain and a woman in a military uniform. I can't make out what they're saying but it doesn't seem to be going well for the police captain. A man who looks to be a platoon sergeant is going to every person detained by police and checking their image against something on his wrist comp and having discussions with them.

Eventually he makes his way to me, and I can see it's a file full of images. A few I recognize as employees from the casino. Each of them is marked with a red square. Finally, he reaches my image, I've got a blue box around mine. That causes him to smile for a moment.

"Efrem Gray, you're coming with us," he seems very polite as he cuts my wrists free.

"He's not going anywhere," the police captain starts to argue. "That man put his hands on multiple officers. If he's going anywhere, it's my jail," he pauses for a moment and as the woman prepares to respond he starts talking again. "I don't care who wants him you can't just go around body slamming my officers, any officers, without repercussions. We are the first line of defense to keep society running." Again, he pauses before allowing anyone to speak, "get him in the cruiser right now. Send him to the station and you book him. Book him good, the old way."

An officer grabs at my arm and attempts to yank me away from the scene, but I snatch my arm away and refuse to move. He reaches for the baton which causes me to go into fight mode. The platoon sergeant steps between the two of us, staring down the officer while keeping his back to me.

"Perhaps he wouldn't have attacked your officers if they hadn't been so overjoyed to attack innocent civilians in a botched raid attempt," the statement sounds more like a question from the woman. Every time she speaks her voice is full of sarcasm as if she's trying to tell the chief how stupid he is.

The two argue back and forth as more of the crowd gathers to get in on the action. The chief knows he doesn't have any real power here but insists on taking me to the station to be booked. In the end, too many people have gathered and it's decided I'm going to jail tonight, but I'm assured that they'll be there to get me soon, hell or high water.

The crowd boos as a cop puts a pair of handcuffs on me. They're tight, they're trying to intentionally hurt me which gets more negative feedback from the crowd. The platoon sergeant makes them loosen the cuffs and assures me they'll be there soon. He sounds reassuring, but after dealing with Creed so long I don't trust it. I wouldn’t doubt he orchestrated this entire thing. He’s probably on the ship watching it all go down and giving orders through an earpiece.

One of the officers tries to slam my head on the door frame while putting me in the car but I'm too strong for it. He slams the door in anger, but he just looks comedic to the onlookers. Several try to step in the way as we try to leave causing police officers to push them away. I wonder how long Creed will leave me in jail.

Book 2

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2.10 - Blockbuster Night

March 10, 2026 Darrell S.

I got word from Creed that there was going to be a raid on the casino tonight. I took up some space in the parking lot across the street to watch it all go down. I'm not sure what I expected but police officers with a warrant wasn't it. Then again, if Creed or whoever informed them that they would be doing a raid, the police may have tried to be one step ahead just to save face. For now, I'm just trusting the process and hoping everything goes well.

That idea vanishes from my mind as white smoke starts to pour out of the casino. It's not a fire, it's for crowd control. Soon people start pouring out of the casino in chaos. Police officers are grabbing random people and slamming them to the ground. It's gotten way too far out of hand and they don't even know if they have someone from the gang or just a random casino visitor.

People flee to the parking lot I'm standing in looking for a safe haven or a way to escape but police have begun to follow. An officer grabs at my wrist and attempts to place it behind my back before I yank my arm away from him and stare back with a look that lets him know he'll be in for a fight if he presses the issue anymore. He runs off to chase after some other person as more officers rush past me. The whole thing is getting worse by the moment. People who weren't even in the casino are getting swept up in the chaos.

"Help," a woman shouts, she's fallen, about to be trampled at this pace. I make my way to her, moving people out of the way as I go. She takes my hand, and I'm able to pull her up from the ground but as we move to safety, she's limping. I lean her against a car and help her slide down to take a seat away from the chaos. The first aid refresher with Martin comes in handy as I'm able to tell that she just has a sprained ankle. She'll be fine with some rest, ice, compression and elevation of that ankle.

There's not really any time to rest, as police officers go after an old man on a cane. Against my better judgement I intercept the officer with a shoulder check that stumbles him. I direct the old man to the same car the woman is resting at. As I watch him hobble away the pain of a baton slams into my side. Before I realize what I’m doing, reflexes have taken over and my fist slams into the officer’s face. As he scurries away, I direct more people to the car, hoping to keep them safe and out of the fray.

For a moment, things begin to calm down and I haven’t seen anyone who looks like they could be Creed’s men. I contemplate running away as punching a cop isn’t going to go over well. They’re vindictive and even if I was just reacting the way I would for anyone, they’ll plaster my face on the news and say it was targeted violence.

More smoke is released by the officers, hiding their movements. I don’t see the officer who fired the shot but the beanbag that slams into my left shoulder lets me know they’re out there. I feel arms wrap around me from behind in a bear hug. I bend my arms up at the elbow to get some room before struggling to step to the side. I get my right arm around the officer’s torso, and with my legs to the side, I throw myself to the ground. I land first, but he lands harder and it’s enough to break his grip. My older brother Evan’s favorite move was a bearhug. Learning how to escape was part of my childhood. I resist the urge to slam my fist into the cop’s face. Another beanbag slams into my back as I get off the ground. The first cop holds onto my ankle; I brace myself as another cop tries to tackle me at full speed. Some of the air is knocked out of me, but I don’t fall. I’m able to wrap my arms around his waist and slam him to the ground.

The three of us fight for position on the ground. There’s two of them, but police officers are just marines who couldn’t pass the fitness test and washed up high school athletes. They also don’t have any real hand to hand training, never fought bounty hunters and most certainly never sparred with an Alpha Draconian. I’m different from the people they’ve been manhandling.

The thought vanishes from my head as the boot of a third cop slams into my jaw. That’s all the room the others needed to pin me down with knees on my back and neck. They’re confused when I start to laugh. I know I’m beaten and I’m going to jail tonight, but the situation is funny. I trusted Creed again, and I’m in the same position that I was last time, with a boot on my neck. I don’t know why I expected anything else. For a moment, I don’t hear anything but my laughter, it’s slowly drowned out by the chaos still unfolding around me.

More surprisingly, the sound of thrusters silence everyone and blows the smoke away. From the corner of my eye, I can see a black shuttle coming into view. I guess Creed was just waiting to make a grand entrance.

***

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2.09 - Negotiations

February 11, 2026 Darrell S.

I could do it, raid the casino. Take out the leaders and disappear into the night. Probably wouldn’t go as smoothly as a movie, but I could do it. Yet everyone and everything around me seems to be yelling for me to not go through with that idea. Still, I need to do something. At least that’s what I kept thinking. Then I came to the conclusion that the casino is just a crutch. It’s something I can lean on instead of taking care of the actual issues that I’m facing. I need to put an end to this marines thing. Even if it involves me going to do time for desertion or whatever. I’m never going to be able to move on with my life the way that I want to if I’m stuck here mentally avoiding it. I just need to let the Casino go and move on.

That doesn’t mean I can’t make the casino someone else’s problem. I’ve worked with Creed enough that I can manipulate him. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is. I’m also not above throwing myself at his feet as a sacrifice for this community to have something better.

Creed answers right away when I make the call, and soon his smiling face is on my wrist comp. “I knew you’d be calling back.”

“Yeah, absence makes the heart grow fonder, what else can I say?”

“Don’t try to sweet talk me Gray, I know you’re a free agent, but I know what team I play for,” Creed laughs and I fake a laugh trying to stay on his good side.

“I’m not trying to sweet talk you. Just wanted to ask what happened to you after the mission on Xhosha.”

“Ah,” Creed pauses. “In short, nothing came from that mission for me. I walked out unscathed, at least as much as you can be. I dislocated my shoulder at some point, but who hasn’t done that in our line of work.”

“Well, I only have to worry about dislocating one shoulder now,” I joke.

“I heard about your arm. I’m sure you got the best prosthetic that money could buy.”

“No, they actually gave me the cheapest option available, only thing they’ll pay for. Haven’t gotten around to looking at the high end stuff.”

“Well that sucks, but I’m sure you didn’t call to catch up.”

“You’re right I just wanted you to understand why I ran. I wasn’t scared, but I was a new person. I can’t ever be the person I was before. I had to learn to use a new arm, but I had to adjust to the fact that I had been through something traumatic and that was hard. I always planned to come back, but I just needed time. I had a new view on life, and going from planet to planet for murder murder and kill kill, just wasn’t working for me. I couldn’t be just a weapon anymore.”

“But you’re calling me, so you want to be a weapon again,” there it is. Creed’s trademark arrogance. “Everyone can use a secret weapon that others don’t expect. It’s a nice offer. But unfortunately, I just don’t think you have it anymore,” this is Creed’s way of playing on people’s emotions. He wants me to get upset.

“I have it, I’m just not running into burning buildings without asking questions and without getting something in return now.”

“Okay, I get the game, what do you want?”

“There’s a casino where I am,” I know he’s already tracking my location, but I’ll play like I don’t know. “It’s being run by a pretty organized gang. I need you to send some guys and make some arrests. Special prosecutor can’t be from here. They’re getting paid for silence. So this takedown needs to be off the books.”

“Sounds like you’re in a real jam,” Creed responds sarcastically. “I don’t see how that helps me.”

“You get what you want,” I argue.

“What is it that I want?”

“Me,” I pause. “You know I’m the best soldier you’ve ever seen and you’re probably struggling without my efficiency. I’m willing to come back and do what needs to be done. Just as long as you take care of this casino thing for me.”

“You’re really confident in your skills for someone who got an arm blown off and ran away from his service. I was joking earlier, but now I’m serious. You might not have it in you anymore.”

“I got it.”

“Then I need you to show me something before I take action.”

“Oh,” I pause. “You want me to take care of an issue for you so you can renege on our deal. I told you, I’m not the same guy anymore and I’m not going to fall for that anymore.”

“People can pretend but can never really change who they are.”

“Maybe we just go through things to really reveal who we are.”

“I’ll think it over and be in contact.”

“Thanks.”

“One more thing,” Creed gives me a stern look. “I liked you better when you didn’t talk and just did what you were told. Since you’re a new person, let me give you some new advice. Everyone doesn’t like being backed into a corner.”

Creed hangs up the phone before I get the chance to respond, and I can’t help but feel as if I just made a deal with the devil. I may get what I asked for, but I’m going to get more than I bargained for in return. I still feel somewhat confident after that conversation. I was never afraid of Creed, and I argued with him frequently, but there was always a limit. A limit that came from my years of service telling me not to question orders from a higher up. That limit is gone now, and even if I re-enlist, it’s not coming back. I’m my own man now, and nobody can take that from me. Not Creed, not the government, and not even threats of death if it comes to that.

If you're interested in history, I just released a video about the Black Panther Party.

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2.08 - Role Model

January 20, 2026 Darrell S.

“Mr. Efrem,” a few of the kids shouted when I showed up with Martin. I didn’t want to come, but he insisted.

The Galactic Groundbreakers, Troup 491; Martin’s branch of a scout organization. I haven’t seen the kids since we took the camping trip which was over a year ago at this point. They’ve gotten bigger and there’s some new faces but a few of the kids were excited to see me. I didn’t think I made a lasting impression on them, but Martin was right. They did remember me and they did have a lot of fun. It’s surprising since I was basically just his side kick.

He thought it would be a good idea and a better opportunity to free my mind from the casino and everything else. I put up a good fight; found stuff to do around the ranch, pretended Pauline needed help, and I didn’t want to be around kids. But in the end, I gave up. You can’t fight against Pauline because she hits hard, but Martin knows exactly which heart strings to pull. He called one of the kids and told him I couldn’t come, right in front of me. I’ve never thought of Martin as a manipulator, but that was some textbook manipulation. I couldn’t take the disappointment in the kid’s voice so I had no choice but to come along.

I was expecting another camping trip but Martin drove us out to the community center. The building isn’t run down, but it needs some love. There was a mural on the wall outside but the paint is so faded I can’t tell what it used to be. Still, the building is full of life. Kids playing basketball, others playing some kind of virtual reality game, elders playing bingo. It's the kind of place every community should have, but they're so rare now. Time moves slow here, and relics of the past are easy to find. I'm just glad this place is still around. It’s one of those things from the past that should have never fallen out of favor.

"This week, we're going to learn a little bit about first aid," Martin starts once the kids have settled down a little. "Does anyone know anything about first aid?" A few kids put their hands up eager to tell Martin and I what they already know. All they know is the basics; scrape your knee, clean it and apply a bandage.

"Are we going to learn how to pull a bullet out and seal the wound with just a knife like the new Angel Granger film," one of the kids asks.

"No," Martin answers with confusion. "We're going to learn some life altering stuff here today. We're going to learn about torniquets and how they can save a limb or even a life in a bad situation," Martin tries to lean in and make it sound exciting.

“But there’s machines for that,” one of the kids responds causing the others to laugh.

“Machines won’t always be around especially if you’re out in the wilderness or somewhere far away from hospitals,” Martin tries to argue.

A few of the kids I’ve met before pay attention, but some of the new kids think Martin is joking. First aid basics are important. Accidents happen every day, and if you’re in the armed forces, or protesting those skills become way more important. Even if you’re not the designated medic, basic first aid is important. I can do CPR, apply a tourniquet, a splint, poor stitches as well as treat and know when someone has a concussion.

Martin turns to me with a sigh, “Can I get a little help here Efrem?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Show the new kids what happens if first aid isn’t rendered in time.”

“I actually got great first aid. I probably should have bled out.”

“Get to the point,” an impatient boy shouts.

“Give him a second,” a kid I recognize as Phillip from my last meeting with the troop shouts back causing me to chuckle a little. He’s gotten taller but he’s missing his two sidekicks David and Jacob.

I take my hands out of my pocket and eyes are immediately drawn to my hand. I pull my arm through the sleeve of my shirt revealing to them that the entire arm is a shiny turquoise prosthetic. A few of the kids are surprised, some think it’s cool and others recoil.

“Does it hurt,” one of the kids asks quietly.

Martin’s face seems shocked before I answer the kid, “No, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Can you feel it,” another kid asks.

“I can’t feel it in the same way that I feel my other hand arm, but I’m aware of it. I know when I’m being touched and I know if I’m holding something tightly or loosely, but I can’t really tell if something is hot, cold or soft.”

“Now kids,” Martin interrupts, “it’s not nice or polite to ask questions like this and it can make people uncomfortable. We’re all different and special in our own ways. His arm is just another way he’s different,” he’s flustered.

“Hey,” I put a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I’d rather them ask me than bother some random person on the street.” Martin relaxes but his trademark smile still doesn’t come back. “Go ahead, anyone else got questions,” the kids put their hands up high.

“How do you control it?”

“I’m not a doctor but in short, they used what was left of my arm’s tendons and nerves to this one. It took time and a lot of rehab, but eventually it started responding to my brain signals like my original arm did.”

“Is it electric?”

“Sort of. It has a battery, a really small battery and eventually I’ll have to replace it, but they tell me it should be good for almost twenty years.”

“How did you lose your arm?”

“I got blown up. But luckily, we had a medic with us. His name is Casey, and he made sure I didn’t die even while people were still shooting at us. He made sure I didn’t bleed out or go into shock. That’s why it’s first aid is important.”

Martin interrupts, “that’s why it’s good for you all to learn some basics.”

The lesson gets under way without any more interruptions. I’m able to catch up with Phillip just turned 16 so he’s got a few more years with the Galactic Groundbreakers. David has gone off to university and Jacob is working at the casino. Martin probably didn’t know that or he wouldn’t have thought this was a good way for me to put it out of my mind.

“Thanks for your help today,” Martin says to me once all the kids have left.

“I thought the camping trip was supposed to be your retirement.”

“Well, it was, but I couldn’t find anyone else to take over. I figured since we were going to be running the ranch a little longer, I could stick around. I just couldn’t leave the kids behind.”

“Well, we’ll need to make sure that you have something else good for your retirement.”

“Maybe I’ll stick around until you’re ready to take over for me.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“You sure,” Martin tilts his head and lifts an eyebrow.

“I’m sure”

“I don’t think so. The kids really like you. I’ve seen it twice, you connect with them and they feel safe with you.”

“No, I think the kids like the arm,” I laugh.

“But you like the kids too.”

“Not at all.”

“Phillip told me about you going out into the forest with him when he was scared to use the bathroom. He won’t say it, but he looks up to you now. Asks me about you all the time.”

“That’s one kid.”

“That you don’t really know, but went out of your way to make sure he felt safe. That made a big difference in his life, and in turn he’s going to make a difference in someone else’s life. He’s not wrong to look up to you.”

“Kids have terrible judgement,” I laugh.

“No, kids are actually pretty good judges of character because they’re still honest, and they don’t feel safe around everyone.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but I’m still not taking your role here,” I laugh.

Martin lets out a loud laugh, “you got me; but I’ll get you sooner rather than later.”

Book 2 / intercosmic

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2.07 - Closing Costs

January 06, 2026 Darrell S.

I've been sitting with Pauline for the last two hours as she talks about nothing in particular. Usually Martin is the talkative one, but today she's going nonstop. I came by to sign documents to make the sale of the ranch official; even if they'll be taking care of it while I go away. We've barely gotten any of the papers signed but she's got a lot to say about each piece of paper.

"Now, you've got a pretty good idea of the proper boundaries but let's say you wanted to expand. Beyond the tree line at the back end of the property is a lake with a few abandoned houses and shops. Was supposed to be the start of new development but it never got finished. Developer ran out of money then went to prison.

"Why did they go to prison," I interrupt

"He was playing with dirty money, owed a cartel, mob or something. Chose prison over whatever they had in store for him

"That's crazy," I laugh.

"Well, they offered to sell it to us for dirt cheap but we're old and don't have the energy for it. It's back there if you want it. Maybe some vacation homes around the lake or something. Could make a lot of money on it" Pauline shrugs away the idea, but I know it's her way of suggesting that I do it. She'll never force you to do anything but she'll lean on your rather hard. I barely know anything about ranching, so I’ll need a whole staff to do vacation rentals.

"One thing at a time, I got lot to do before I start thinking lake house expansions," I throw up my hands in a defensive manner

"Well, I won't fight you on it. Some fights just aren't worth the trouble," she stares deeply into my eyes with a look I've only seen from my mother.

"You're talking about the casino, aren't you?”

"Well, since you brought it up," Pauline waves her hand and takes a sip of tea. "I don't want you going down there and throwing your life away. Those folks basically got a whole army down there. I don't want you running into a fight, that isn't yours and then getting killed by overwhelming opposition," she takes another sip of tea.

"I know it's not my fight, but someone has to fight for those people. There's not a lot of people fighting to make sure drug addicts have safe access to their vices. There's nobody at all fighting for people being ripped off by shady gambling practices."

"But that somebody doesn't need to be you."

"Then who?"

"Sometimes, you don't need to fight, you just need to stand firm on what you believe in and that gives inspiration to others to fight. Those people will just have to learn to fight for themselves.”

"When has that ever happened?”

"Martin told you about the war against supremacy, right?”

"Yeah, he was in a human supremacist organization, and people across the planet fought back to make sure anyone could live peacefully on Nyame. He and many others realized they were wrong and switched sides."

"Yes, that's his side of the story, but do you know why people fought back so hard?"

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

"When the supremacist were vandalizing businesses that would welcome non humans, there was a shop owner. Her name was Audre Rudolph. Everyone time they would destroy her shop, she'd take the insurance money and build a new one. Time and time again she did this, never raising a fist to fight. But she did inspire others to fight. All she had to do was maintain her principals. You can send a lot of messages with words and even violence. But sometimes the best message is sent by how you live your life."

“You two are really against me doing anything to the people running the casino,” I chuckle.

“Yes, we thought you died you idiot,” Pauline raises her voice. “We thought you were buried in some unmarked grave,” there’s a heavy sadness in her voice I’d never heard from her. “Do you think we wanted that? To see someone like you dying because you’re fighting some battle to save people who don’t want to be saved. They walk into that casino, knowing it’s a trap. You can’t save someone blinded by vice until they’re ready to be saved," Pauline slams her hand on the table as she fights back tears.

My mother didn't cry for me like this when I joined the marines. My father never worried if I was going to die in some pointless battle. Pauline and Martin have been good to me, better than I ever could have ever imagined and I'm putting them through hell right now. They just can't say it to me. I make my way to the other side of the table where Pauline is sitting and wrap her in my arms as she rocks back and forth.

"I can't sit around and do nothing, but I'll do it in a way that you won't have to worry about me. That's all I can promise you," I speak the words gently as she releases me.

"You're an adult, and you're going to do whatever you want to do. Not risking your life over this is all I can ask of you.”

Book 2

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New Release: Light Seekers

July 14, 2025 Darrell S.

Najor has seen more than most boys his age should, but he's never felt the warmth of the sun on his flesh. His town has been blessed with the gift of sunlight for three years now. The elders believe that this will continue as they are in God's favor. Najor is smart enough to listen to the migrants who travel along with the beam of light which illuminates the sky. They know the light is to vanish soon, and with it will go any normality in his life. He faced with the choice of spending his life following the beam of light, or attempting to bring the sun back.

The magic he wields is weak, and he can't use it for long without becoming sick. He's never left his town and only heard legends about the beasts that roam the wastelands and the sorcerers who reside high in the Phaethon Mountains. Still, he chooses to throw it all away and chase after a dream knowing he'll mostly likely die out in the darkness.

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2.06 - Good Morning

February 04, 2025 Darrell S.

“Is he breathing”
“Yeah but not much”
“You think he’ll make it”
“I don’t know, he’s strong”

“Oh shit they’re kids.”
“We shot some kids.”
“They’re just kids.”

“Efrem, come on, the coast is clear”
“Nah, I need to check on this.”
“You find something”
“...not a damn thing.”

“We have to return fire”
“Do whatever, just keep running.”

“Seargeant”
“Sorry about that, but I told you, I wasn’t going to let you die.”
“Seargeant”
“Hey, how about you take your arm as a souvenir? They might be able to put it back if we’re fast enough.”
“That’s not my arm.”
“Sure, it is, it looks a lot like mine, but it’s yours. Humans are funny that way.”
“Captain, sit down.”
“Oh shit, that is my arm.”

Last night, I dreamed of Xioshaa. Time and time again, I replayed the mission over and over again. Stealthy infiltration, but they saw us coming. They set traps and prepared ambushes. Psionic abilities, poison and hallucinogenics were all part of their plan. When we finally were able to meet them in combat, I shot a kid. They were all child soldiers and that was never something I expected. I saw one of the bodies, I didn’t tell my team. I didn’t want them to carry the burden with me. Only for me to get blown up because some psionic teenager changed the trajectory of a grenade in the air.

I went through weeks of rehabilitation learning to use my prosthetic and trying to get it to sync to my brainwaves. All while I had my first sit downs with a therapist helping me to cope. At least I thought the goal was to help me overcome the PTSD of killing a child and getting my arm blown off. In reality, they were just trying to make sure I could go out there and be the same tool for killing that I was before.

I’m contemplating taking down a casino and dreams of a battle that actually is mine are keeping me awake at night. Martin might be right, but I have to do something. Maybe I can use one to help the other. I’m not sure, but I can try. I grab a dusty glass from the cabinet and give it a rinse in the sink before filling it with tap water and drinking. I know what I have to do now, and I can’t keep putting it off any more. Scrolling through the contacts in my wrist comp, I come across the person I was looking for. A deep breath and I make the call. It doesn’t ring long before a familiar face appears on my screen. I project the image on the wall so we’re looking face to face.

“The prodigal son returns. We must celebrate and be glad,” he begins. “This brother of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

“I can’t say I’m as glad to see you,” I respond.

“But you need something, and I’m the only one who can give it to you.”

“You’re right.”

“You know what you have to do?”

“Come back, probably spend a little time in jail.”

“Well yes, but we’ve also got a job that still needs to be done. I just need to make sure you’re still enough of a man to take it on.”

“I need something from you too.”

He laughs, “you’re not in a position to bargain.”

“I’m going to do it anyway.”

“Insubordinate as ever.”

“There’s a casino. They sell drugs, offer prostitution and every other vice you can think of. It was funded by drug money and the police are paid off to look the other way.”

“And you want me to come shut it all down.”

“Yeah.”

“I knew you lost your arm, I didn’t know you lost your balls too.”

“What?”

“You lost your balls. It must have been when you were running away from your sworn duty.”

“If you can’t help me, I can’t help you.”

“You think I care? You think I can’t storm that pissant ranch you’re on right now? You think I couldn’t get you whenever I wanted?”

“I think you would have come to get me by now if you really could.”

“How about you prove to me you’re still a man of action and handle the casino yourself, and I’ll come get you when I’m ready.”

I bite my tongue for a moment before adjusting my feet squarely on the ground, “you’re still a piece of trash unfit to wear that uniform.”

“Yet you ran from it the moment things got hard.”

“I didn’t run from it, I ran towards something better.”

“Are you sure,” he mocks me. “Because things seem to have gotten a little hard for you and you’re running right back to my team. Let me put you under my wing again to protect you baby bird.”

“Who said anything about me joining your team?”

“Then we’ve got nothing to talk about,” the call ends without another word.

I pick up the glass of water and stop just short of flinging it against the wall as a few drops of water hit the floor. My morning alarm sounds from my wrist comp, letting me know it’s time to begin my day. A sleepless night into a day fueled by rage. What more could a man ask for?

Book 2

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2.05 - Strap Up

January 21, 2025 Darrell S.

I watch from my bed as Barbar jumps up and down while pulling up her pants from last night. I always hate one-night stands. This would only be my fourth time. I just like to have an emotional connection with someone before I have sex with them. It’s rare that I feel that connection the first time I meet them, but it happens. Renan is the only one night stand that turned into something more, so I guess I’ve had five now.

“You want to stay for breakfast,” I ask as Nariah as she searches for her shoe.

“Nope, got some errands to run today,” she pulls the shoe from under the bed.

“I can come along.”

“No need, but I’ll call you again next time I’m looking for a guy to make me feel good about the parts of my body I usually don’t like.”

I’m take the compliment in stride and walk Nariah from my front door to her car outside. I wave goodbye as she tosses a hand out the window. In the moment I find myself longing for a life with this woman and I don’t know anything but her name, her job and favorite sexual positions. Yet here I am looking for emotional investments, in a future I can’t see. I take a seat on the steps leading up to the guest house. If I planned to stick around longer I’d make an effort to get some furniture.

“Good morning,” Pauline shouts as she comes up the road.

I wave, and greet her with “good morning,” as she reaches the steps. “What’s on the schedule today?”

“Replacing some busted fence posts, start repainting the barn and of course the usual stuff. Nothing for you. I know you had a busy night.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Us big bosomed broads with loose morals have a radar. We can tell when we’re not the only ones in the area.”

“I, well,” I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to sneak around.” I feel as if my parents caught me bringing someone home. I never did because I was embarrassed. But this must be the feeling.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of about sex. You’re both consenting adults, as long as you’re safe there’s no problem. But, next time you better invite that young lady to breakfast with us.”

“I tried to, I really did.”

“Well try harder next time. Now put a shirt and come to the big house to eat.”

Breakfast with Martin and Pauline was interesting to say the least. It started with me telling them about the casino and what I saw. Only for the topic to turn to Nariah. They really act like sitcom parents sometimes. If it were up to them, we’d start planning a wedding already. Thankfully my life isn’t a weekly sitcom with new episodes for the viewing pleasure of the masses.

I greet the workers as they arrive, handing out their tasks and assigning groups. Martin wasn’t joking about the new workers being terrible. A bunch of folks past their prime just trying to get by with the only thing they know; and a bunch of young people that don’t like taking instruction but don’t really know what they’re doing. I try to mix the crews with young and old hoping they can help each other. With the orders passed out it’s time for me to take on my daily tasks as well. Inventory supplies, make sure we’ve got enough feed for the few animals we’ve got and of course check in on the crews and lend a hand where it’s needed.

“Hey,” Martin calls out to me.

“You know you don’t have to work when I’m here,” I laugh.

“I know that, I’m just here to talk.”

“What’s going on?”

“Did you think about what I said the other night?”

I pause for a second, “that every man has a last fight, and we need to know when it’s time to move on.”

“See, that’s why I love you. You’re hard headed but you listen.”

“I don’t listen that well. I'm still thinking on it.”

“Well don’t think too long or too hard, that’s how you hurt yourself.”

“What would you do,” I ask Martin as he walks away.

“Live my life.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. What if you felt that something had to be done but you didn’t want to do it with violence?”

“Overwhelming force in the opposite direction. If you feel they’re having a negative impact, you need to find a way to counter it with positivity,” Martin answers quickly as if he’d thought of this before.

“Thanks Martin.”

Book 2

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2.04 - Queen of Hearts

January 08, 2025 Darrell S.

It didn’t take long for everything in the lounge to return to normal after witnessing an overdose. I imagine that kind of thing would typically bring an end to the festivities for the night, but not here. Everyone just kept drinking and getting high on the same drugs that just had a young woman dragged out. For a few minutes, I feel like the only person in the room who finds it odd.

Then I spot the bartender in a far corner of the room. A woman, roughly the same age as me, although I imagine I’m a harder to look at. Warm brown skin, dreadlocks braided into pigtails, a full figured woman carrying her weight in all the right places, black eyeliner, lipstick and gold fangs on her upper teeth make the look complete.

“Happen often,” I ask as I take a seat at the end of the bar.

“Only on days that end in the letter y,” she cleans a glass. “What can I get you?”

“Something that’s not going to leave me knocking at death’s door.”

“Water it is,” she laughs and pours a bottle into a tall glass.

“Water is perfect,” I laugh as I take the glass from her. “My name is Efrem.”

“I’m Barbara,” she smiles back at me.

“Hey, can I ask you something Barbara?”

“Is it my contact info.”

“I was going to say I’ve been away for a while and was wondering how things got like, well, like this,” I wave a hand around the casino.

“Well, that’s easy. Everyone has a vice. Gambling, drugs, alcohol,” she pauses, “sex. Nobody cornered the market around here. They just built a temple to vice and people come worship at it every day of the week.”

“And nobody does anything?”

“Pay off the right police and nobody has any choice but to look away, even if most of us hate it.”

“Working a job you hate for people you hate, I get it.”

“Don’t we all,” Barbara laughs.

“I got one more question for you.”

“If it’s not about my contact information you can get the hell out,” Barbara smiles. “I’m only half joking.”

“That’s good, because I was going to ask for it.”

I wasn’t really planning to ask for her contact information, but when a beautiful woman wants to give you her contact information, you take her contact information and make sure you call her. I guess that’s one benefit of coming here tonight. I just confirmed this place was everything I thought it was. I’m not any less convinced that it doesn’t need to be shut down. I exit the elevator and decide to take the back exit.

Outside in the alley I hear a commotion. The bald bearded man from the blackjack table earlier is being punched and kicked against the wall by some of the security guards. I know it’s not my fight, but they’re probably going to beat him to death if I don’t step in.

“Hey, let the guy go,” I call out.

“This ain’t your fucking business,” one of the guards shouts.

“If you keep talking to me like that it will be.”

One of the guards takes a wild swing that I’m just barely able to dodge in time. I use the opportunity to put all my weight into a right punch aiming at the other guard. My metal fist makes perfect contact between his eye and ear. I’ll have to tell Edan I knocked a guy out with one punch. I turn just in time to catch a punch to the ribs from the first guard. I retaliate by putting my hand in his face and pushing him away so I can regroup. I fake a punch only for me to grab his neck and bring it down to meet my knee. When he falls over I begin to land punches on his head hoping to put him out. But he’s still awake when I hear sirens. I wipe the blood from my fist on his shirt before making my way to the bald man.

“Why were the beating you,” I ask.

“I paid for a night with a woman and when I got to my room they took my money and drug me out here.”

“Well you should get your money back while they can’t fight back.”

I don’t hear what else he says, I make my way from the alley to the street where a crowd is starting to gather. I keep my head down and just walk with no real sense of wear I’m heading off to. A car pulls up next to me.

“You look like you could use a ride,” Barbara calls from inside the car.

“My hero,” I don’t hesitate to get in.

“Where to,” she asks as we begin to move.

“Anywhere you want to go,” I smile at her.

Book 2

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2.03 - Casino

December 25, 2024 Darrell S.

It’s not hard to find the casino. Tranquillus is a small town where most buildings don’t stretch more than two or three stories. There’s even a few single family residential homes on the edge of town. The casino stands out, five stories high, bright lights and music that can be heard outside. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a building like this, but it’s jarring standing above the rest of the town.

Security at the door is lax, two big guys standing there looking tough as people walk through an old model body scanner. A guy reads the screen and gives a thumbs up as each person walks through. Part of me wonders if anyone in here would recognize me but I mostly dealt with low level folks. My walk through the body scanners put security on high alert. They mov fast to block me from entering as others gather to gawk at the idea that something might happen.

“What’s under your jacket,” one of the guards asks me.

I remove the glove on my right hand revealing the scuffed and scratched turquoise metal. The guard motions me to stop as if my arm is unsightly or I should be ashamed. I remove my jacket revealing the entirety of my arm is prosthetic. I used to hate looking at it, the cheapest model money could buy. It got the paint from a Smilodonian in the rehabilitation center. I’ve grown to accept it as part of me now.

“I lost it in battle. A lot of marines have them,” I say to the security guard.

“Th-thank you for your service,” he mumbles through his words.

“You’re welcome,” I continue forward into the casino.

Inside is what I expect; cheap red carpet, slot machines crowding every space of the floor not occupied by tables of roulette, poker and blackjack. Waitresses in skimpy costumes serve drinks to gamblers. Free drinks for the losers, overpriced for those who win. More security guys watching for cheaters.

I make my way to a blackjack table and watch as a few rounds play through. I hate casinos, even when you win, the casino wins. As long as people have hope, they’ll keep playing and the money keeps coming in. When the hope gets low, they pick a sucker and make them a winner. A short bearded man, gets a complimentary drink as he goes bust on another round of blackjack. The dealer looks to me to ask if I want to join the game. I wave him off and he starts a new round. The bearded man who was looking down and out a few moments ago lands and ace and a king. He’s the winner, a few thousand. I wonder how much he blew to get there. He’s probably still in the hole. But it doesn’t matter, people see a winner. I step away as more people join the table looking for remnants of any luck. Even the people pulling handles and mashing buttons on the slot machines start to move faster.

The second floor is dedicated to mostly entertainment. A restaurant serving a few different meals is mostly empty. The real draw is the live entertainment but the next show doesn’t start for an hour or so. A few shops on this floor selling trinkets and nonsense. Another restaurant, this one a buffet, packed as people look for cheap food to energize themselves for blowing through money. I don’t hate gamblers, but I really hate the idea of gambling. Taking advantage of hope, one of the few things in this life that is free.

The third floor is more my pace. The entire space is an open area with various bar tenders. People sit and drink, reflecting on what they’ve lost or just looking for a reprieve from all the bright lights and noises on the other floors. I order a drink and wander the large area for a while. Martin was wrong, they aren’t done with drugs. They’re readily available here and plenty of people are choosing drugs over alcohol. It’s not as if they aren’t both vices, but alcohol is a lot safer than experimental drugs.

A young woman at a table opposite of me rocks gently in her seat with dilated pupils. I’m not sure if she’s hallucinating or overdosing but she starts to slow. I’m sure she’s heading for an overdose as the color drains from her face. Once she slumps in her seat, I stand to make my to her. She’s overdosed, brain isn’t getting enough oxygen. People think it’s the drug that kills you, but it’s just your body relaxing too much to breathe right. I saw more than a few overdoses when I was in the marines.

Before I can make it to her, two security guards and a woman dressed in right reach her. The guards left her and the woman places a mask over her mouth and nose and gives a few pumps from some kind of inhaler. Once the gas in the mask is no longer visible the woman’s color starts to return. The guards lift her and follow the medic.

“Most people wouldn’t notice and overdose. Even fewer would move to take action,” the woman says to me as they walk pass.

Without any more words they enter the elevator. I watch as the number changes from three to four. If one thing is for sure, I know they’ve got security cameras everywhere, not just where gambling takes place. I guess I have to hope they’re taking her to a medical bay to recuperate and not an incinerator.

Merry Christmas if you celebrate.

Book 2

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2.02 - Man to Man

December 10, 2024 Darrell S.

The barn here became a favorite spot of mine when I first arrived here. We’re far away from the town, and it’s a not a bright town. The view of the stars from here is amazing. It always filled me with the same sense of wonder that I had as a kid. Back when I would dream of being a space marine, taking down some great galactic evils and giving people freedom back. Putting an end to genocides, civil wars, and the like. I thought I’d be helping rebuild societies crushed by the horrors of war or build up places that had been forgotten by time. In the end, I got none of that. I never helped get clean water to remote locations, but I sniped more than a few people. I’ve never built a baseball or soccer field for kids who never heard of the sport, but I shot a kid.

I’m thirty-one years old now. I spent two years on the run from my life in the marines. I spent the better part of a year living out my brother’s space pirate ideas. I’ll be thirty-two soon enough. No children and my romantic prospects are a basketball player who gave up after four good years in the league and an alien criminal halfway across the galaxy who won’t give me a chance for another 60 years. Despite every fiber of my body calling me a failure and telling me to sink my time into this ranch and make a life here; I’m going to go back to what I was running from. Right after I finish a fight that isn’t really any of my business.

“Do you mind if I join you,” Martin asks as he’s already taking a seat next to me.

“Nah, I don’t mind.”

“Did I ever tell you what’s buried under this barn,” Martin asks an odd question.

“You never mentioned anything about that.”

“Remember when I told you about human supremacist and how we all banded together to fight them back.”

“You defected, wanted to make a better place for everyone. Got hurt, met Pauline.”

“Yeah,” Martin smiles as he reminisces. “After all the fighting was done some of us gathered up old armor and guns. We hid them. We thought there might be a day when they would return. I mean, all it took the first time was for people to look the other way because they were too afraid. That’s how they got shiftless young men to join up. The thing is, it took all kinds of people to fight back. Humans of different races, species of people that weren’t human. But the thing is it only took a few to fight back. That’s when people like me switched sides, realized what we were doing was wrong. We became some of the hardest fighters, hoping to make amends for the things that we did. And when things were done, we stayed vigilant. But there came a time when we needed to put those things behind us. We buried those things. Metaphorically and literally. Beneath the foundation of this barn is a cache of weapons and armor. With time, they became worthless. The reason being is that was no more war to fight.”

“You think I’m making the wrong the choice,” I ask.

“Not entirely. Going back to the marines and finishing the time you promised them, that’s honorable. Doesn’t matter if either of us agrees with what you’re doing. What matters is that you’re keeping your word. But, the whole local gang thing, let it go. It’s not your battle to fight, never was.”

“I know, but I feel like I have to do it. You mentioned making amends. I feel like on some level I need to do that. I need to do something good. Years and years of fighting, and I haven’t seen improvement for anyone. But I feel like, if I take care of them, I can provide some good to the people here. I can do something that actually matters.”

“You’re a grown man, and with that comes knowledge and experiences that differ from one man to the next. Those things shape who a man becomes. I can’t tell you not to do it. I can’t tell you how to live your life. I can tell you that I don’t want you to risk your life for something like this. If it were up to me, I say go back. Do your time and come home, then find a new way to help. For me, that’s working with my scouts. It might be something else for you. Just because you were a man of war, doesn’t mean you need to take the war with you.”

“Thank you for that Martin.”

“Well, that’s all I wanted to say,” Martin’s serious tone disappears in an instant. “Don’t stay up here too late. Have a good night.”

“You too, tell Pauline thanks again for the dinner.”

Just like that, Martin vanishes from the roof. Pauline will really punch you in the gut, but Martin knows how to give you an emotional punch, one that rattles your mind and heart. It makes you question what it is that you really want to do. You can be so sure of yourself, and your next steps, then along comes Martin. Kindhearted and jovial, until his words have started to poke holes in everything you know. I felt that way when I first came to this ranch as a laborer. Through our conversations, he began to alter what I thought I knew, time and time again. Here I am now, once again left sitting beneath the stars staring up above, looking for some kind of solution.

Book 2

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