Echoes of the Storm
You may recall that my first ever published story was “A Glimmer of Hope” in the Star Wars Adventure Journal. I always planned to write a sci fi novel, but I fell in love with 12th century British history (and with the two knights Sir Henry & Sir Stephan).
Some of my readers will be concerned I’ve jumped 1200+ years into the future, never to return. But never fear. I am doing some background research for another medieval historical novel. For the next 6-8 months, I’m heading back to my sci fi roots, working on the final draft of Echoes of the Storm.
I’m doing something different with this draft and posting it to Wattpad one chapter at a time. Come be my betas. Comment (and vote) on the chapters. With a Wattpad account, you can set up notifications so you’ll know when a new chapter gets posted. Next spring I’ll invite readers to join my street team to help spread the word about Echoes when it’s published on Amazon.
Enjoy the opening of Chapter 1:
Is this how it ends?
Jack Gamble swiped away the dark stray hairs clinging to his forehead. This defeat by Corona—unimaginable. His people—dead, wounded, gone underground. The only thing worse? Fleeing with a small band of resistance fighters when he should have stayed behind to pick up the pieces.
His stomach tightened with guilt. He stared out the viewport from the jump seat as Encompass veered toward clouds tinged red by Torredo’s rising sun. Far below, a column of armored vehicles smoldered on the roadside, twisted, blackened scraps of metal. Fires in the capital created an eerie show of shadows and light across the early morning skies. The ship jinked through black, acrid smoke, which splattered the reddish canvas of clouds like brush-strokes, a death mark for Jack and his comrades.
Ship’s captain Matthew Chase cursed beneath his breath from the pilot’s seat. His modified transport was a cut above most ships in Riga’s fleet, covertly outfitted with super-charged engines and ultraebon composite shields.
Chase might get them out of this jam.
The ship shuddered, a blast from a Corona crusader singeing its shields. Jack’s head smashed into the seatback. Behind him, circuitry along the corridor sparked and sizzled. He gripped the armrest, stomach churning, his mind on Ari Norse’s betrayal.
My fault. I did this…
His stupidity—not their pursuer’s strike—sickened him. Ari—his cell leader, his lover. What had he revealed to him?