"eMOTION: Forced Pair" by C. Ryan Bymaster

REVIEW and EXCERPT

eMOTION: Forced Pair

(Fifth and Dent Book 1)

by C. Ryan Bymaster

eMOTION: Forced Pair is the first book in C. Ryan Bymaster's Fifth and Dent series. You can read my review below. Also available: Hard Wired and False Positive. Coming soon: Surge Protector.

  

Description

eMOTION: Forced Pair is the first installment of the Fifth and Dent series.

Marion Dent is a high-functioning sociopath, trained by the U.S. military to become the perfect soldier to combat the newest form of illegal emotional-tampering technology known as eTech. Relieved of his duty, he has become a contractor for the highest bidder - his mental handicap making him the perfect weapon in a world where illegally controlling emotions means controlling absolute economic power.

Dent contracts out to steal a package - a young Japanese girl with a very unique talent which has the potential to render current eTech obsolete and usher in a new form of undetectable emotion-tampering.

After seemingly being betrayed by the person who hired him, Dent and the girl find themselves in a tentative partnership as they struggle to survive - and understand each other. Dent must figure out why he was betrayed, find the true players behind the young girl’s past as well as his own, and understand why, for the first time in his life, fulfilling the contract may not be the correct course of action.

If Dent can figure out why this young girl makes him act irrationally he may have a chance to save her from the same fate he suffered at a young age - being studied and manipulated into becoming an unwitting pawn as countries and corporations fight for economic dominion, with no remorse for those they harm or kill in order to obtain this ultimate power.

Sometimes a sociopath is the only hope for ensuring the emotional freedom of the world.

Excerpt

A small metallic click and the grey metal door came loose. He pulled it all the way open and stopped short at what he saw.

Nothing.

According to the terms of his employment, a dark-brown leather satchel with a quarter of his payment was to be deposited here for his pick up. As a rule, he did not accept any electronic forms of payment. Bits and data could be as easily erased as transferred and he did not wish to find his agreed-upon payment had disappeared from the digital ether on the ride home.

No satchel, no cash. The payment was a paltry sum for his employer and even had Dent not gone through with the mission and absconded with the money, his employer would not have even thought twice. The fact that it was not here meant that his employer simply did not bother with fulfilling his side of the contract. And if Dent was not to be paid, he would have to assume that his employer had expected him to be incapable of collecting said payment. Which meant Dent was now a loose end and deemed warranted for death.

He closed locker #45 and gathered his thoughts. If he were on the other side of the equation, hired to complete a job to kill a hired killer, he would have eyes on this very location, this very locker. He looked around as an announcement for a departing flight came on overhead. Too many eyes and ears in the terminal to complete a successful tap-and-drop, no matter if the gun were silenced or not. Also, with the way airport security was nowadays, it was a risk to have a firearm on one’s person. The metal detectors and other expected forms of detection were easy to get around. It was the random stopping and, according to recent U.S. law, completely legal searching of any individual within the airport by any paid employee of that airport. A custodian was a deputized member of law enforcement under this new law. Even the young teenage girl who served espressos and overpriced Madeleine cakes had the authority to search visitors and travelers.

His original egress was out of the question - it would no doubt be covered. Therefore his means of transportation in the long-term parking lot was as well - it would no doubt be marked. New exit, new vehicle. The exit he already had in mind, the vehicle would have to be the best opportunity that presented itself.

He began to walk briskly around the locker bank and was forced to stop as the package did not follow. He looked back at her, expecting her to join him, but the girl remained rooted to where she stood. Dent walked back, grabbed her left hand with his right and tugged her along in his wake.

She let out a few grumbling noises and then her voice raised in cadence as she proclaimed, “I’m not going with you!” She tried pulling her hand away, but Dent held on tight.

More eyes looked their way. Some for the second time now. He could not afford any more glitches in the plan. If any one of these people stopped him, he would be hard-pressed to come up with an answer as to why he, a thirty-three-year-old Caucasian, was dragging a thirteen-year-old Japanese girl behind him. It was hard to lie convincingly when one had no idea what platitude was needed in what situation.

He knelt, bringing his hazel eyes on a level with her own, and said, “If you don’t move, it will make it easier for them.”

“Easier for them to do what?”

“To kill us.”

An instantaneous change fell over the girl’s face at Dent’s even-toned words. The insides of her eyebrows lifted, her naturally narrow eyes widened and watered. A flush tinted her cheeks as her mouth slowly opened, jaw going slack. If that had not been enough to clue Dent in to what the girl felt, then the wailing noise that issued up from her throat was plenty.

Praise for the Book

"An absolutely great read! From the first paragraph on I did not want to put it down. Immediately it draws you in and keeps you reading. [...] I cannot wait for another story from him. Absolutely I would, and will, recommend this story to friends and family." ~ Alexander Clark

"This book was extremely suspenseful. I appreciated the many psychological explanations and insight. It was very imaginative and intellectually stimulating as well as packed with great action and violence." ~ Keith Fischer

"A very fast paced story, the action gets very intense at times. [...] Well written and expertly executed, I fairly enjoyed this novel and it's rendition of the future. [...] Definitely worth a read!" ~ Michael Loring

My Review

By Lynda Dickson

Since 2016, major companies have implemented the science of mind control, known as "emotion tampering", to increase sales. Unfortunately, there have been some unexpected results, both social and economic, and the practice has now been banned. Enter Marion Dent, a sociopath incapable of emotion, the perfect man to combat this illegal practice. Once employed by the military, he is now a freelancer; his latest mission to retrieve a "package" for Charon on behalf of a rich businessman. The package turns out to be Kasumi, a thirteen-year-old girl called "Fifth" by the employees at the Takeda International facility where she is being studied by her own mother. What is so special about this girl, and why is everyone willing to kill to possess her?

This is an entertaining, fast-paced, action-packed adventure. Dent's lack of emotions and social graces lead to some humorous encounters. The title also has a clever double meaning. There are some problems with sentence construction and punctuation, and at times there is a bit too much detail. A glossary of the techie devices would also be helpful. While this story is complete, I hope later installments reveal more about the main characters' backgrounds. 

All in all, this is a very enjoyable read.

From the Author

The best stories of life are never black or white, right or wrong. It's not so much the actions the characters take, but more the reasons behind those actions.

Southern California resident who grew up on fantasy and sci-fi movies, comic books, and classic RPGs - And I never grew out of them.

I've always loved writing as much as reading and in 2012 decided to take my writing into the professional realm. I began working on Echoes of Power, an epic fantasy series, that has since grown and evolved into much more than I could ever have dreamed. The first installment, Echoes of Power: Book I is slated for release 2015.

The Fifth and Dent series deliver thrillers with a sci-fi twist, introducing eTech and the possibility of living in a world where emotions can be controlled by technology.

In the thriller/urban fantasy genre, Forsaken: Ev and Ell takes a twist on Heaven vs. Hell and the consequences of choices.

My taste in reading and writing varies widely but fantasy will always be my go-to genre.

A picture may paint a thousand words, but a few choice words can paint a thousand pictures.

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"The Borealis Genome" by Thomas P. Wise and Nancy Wise

EXCERPT

The Borealis Genome

by Thomas P. Wise and Nancy Wise

The Borealis Genome is currently on tour with Reading Addiction Virtual Book Tours. The tour stops here today for an excerpt. Please visit the other tour stops as well.

Description

The Borealis Genome addresses the issue of increased moral ambiguity as scientific technology advances and removes our sense of individuality. The married authors throw engaged characters Tim and Nora into a scientific nightmare where mind-uploading and a weaponized virus allow the minds of the few to control those of the masses. As the population starts turning into mental zombies can Tim and Nora find the source of this mayhem? And can their love persevere through these harrowing times?

The Borealis Genome was recently awarded as Finalist in the 2013 Best Book Awards, and Honorable Mention in the 2013 Hollywood Book Festival.

Excerpt

Stan woke feeling, “off,” is all that came to mind. He had returned to his high-rise apartment early last night from his lady friend’s home as he liked to refer to her, and had dropped into bed, clothes and all. He rolled to the side of the bed and sat with both feet pressed flat on the floor and slouched forward with his elbows on his knees trying to get his head to clear. Pressing his palms against his forehead, he rocked slowly forward testing his legs.

His eyes were blurry as he straightened, still pressing his palms to his head and turning toward the bathroom. “Shoot,” he cried out as his foot landed on something hard rolling his left ankle and spilling him hard against the wall. He landed on his shoulder against the wall wrenching his spine and twisting the large left muscle running from his shoulder to the lower back into a spasm of searing pain.

Pushing up from the floor with both hands as he moved onto all fours, the pain in his back and ankle was biting into the fog in his mind helping him to focus. Stan crawled to the nightstand muttering and breathless.

“Help me! Up!” he groaned and slapped around for something to grab. and reached out with his right hand to steady himself and gather his wits. He pulled hard to drag himself upright again, and fell with his back pressed flat against the wall to balance against the pain.

Out of breath, Stan rolled left pushing hard on the wall to stabilize his position as he turned and shoved with his left forearm out to hold himself while he tried to walk.

“Focus!” he belched as his ankle rolled. His weight landed hard on the bone at the base of the shin as he stumbled toward the bedroom door. With a staggered, slow gate, his ankle rolled out from under him with each step. The fog in his brain grew more dense, and the pain more distant as he moved toward the door of the apartment.

“Pull,” he burped at the front door.

The momentum of the door led him backward, dropped him hard on his tailbone and jarred his spine and splitting the fog in his brain for a moment. He reached for his mouth, “blood,” he thought as the new taste flooded his senses.

Stan rolled back to his knees and pulled on the doorknob bouncing the left side of his head against the edge of the door as he stood and stumbled forward into the hall, then into the elevator leading to the trolley below the building.

Riders gathered along the trolley platform, checked the time, hoping to beat the rush and have a seat for the trip. The trolley tunnel was musty, dark with 19^th century lights and smoke clinging to the tunnel walls. Trash and grease coated the tracks. Men and women dressed in business casual yawned and sipped from steaming paper mugs of dark coffee, waiting impatiently, ignoring one another as well as the rats darting in and out of crevices along the tunnel wall. A woman of about 30 stood quietly trying to keep her with her three year old boy seated in his stroller and entertained, while her tween son hung alongside in anticipation of his first trolley ride into Center City.

***

“I think it’s coming,” Stephen said excited to be the first to announce the possible arrival. Stephen looked up at his mom to see if she had noticed that he knew the trolley was on the way, “It’s coming mom,” he announced again touching her arm and smiling with his big dark brown eyes. His light brown hair, bleached by long summer days in the sun, hung in his eyes.

“Honey,” he heard his mom’s response, ignoring his excitement, as she pushed the hair from his brow, “Will dropped his cup by the stairs. Back there,” she said pointing to the entrance at the bottom of the staircase. “See it?

A frown formed as he followed Mom’s gesture. “Will,” he groused, had tossed the cup as she had opened the stroller at the bottom of the staircase where they entered the trolley tunnel.

“Please?” she asked again.

“Why does she assume I’m not going to do it?” he grumped, and sulked away. “You get,” he muttered to himself disappointed his announcement was ignored, and at being the errand boy for the little darling sitting in the stroller watching as he fetched the Sippy-cup, and just as the trolley was coming. “That’s what I shoulda said!” he muttered. “Get your own sippy.”

***

A man sneered, “Stinkin drunk,” as he watched for the trolley.

Stan stumbled along the subway platform as his ankle rolled with each step and his back twisted to the left as his body tried to stabilize against the spasm in the left lattisimus dorsi. A long bruise crossed his left eyebrow where he had landed against the door, and blood trickled down his chin where he had bitten off the tip of his tongue when he landed on his tailbone. Stan could feel the rush of air as the underground trolley approached the bend up ahead. Little else could penetrate the fog in his head. There were shapes in front of him. He could just make out " ... competition ... for his favorite seat," through his blurred vision.

As he tried to pick up the pace to make the trolley, “gonna be late,” kept coming through the fog. Stan shoved past the first person as he approached the man from behind, and pushed hard with his shoulder to get past. The man turned, leading with his elbow as he came around to face the aggressor in the dim light, angry at being shoved. An elbow in the rib caused Stan to trip and fall to his knees as he over compensated to keep his balance. Stan’s eyes never left the grimy platform. It was steady and solid. He could see the dark concrete, stained by a hundred years of dirty feet and smoke, beneath his hands as he shoved himself up to get his right foot underneath him.

Stan's bladder let go of its contents when his knees were bloodied as they cracked against the concrete. Still on his left knee he shoved hard to get his right foot under him. Stan lurched hard to his left as the foot collapsed under his weight. Falling! He grabbed and hugged the concrete pillar.

His eyes were round, propped open by fear; seeing shadows and shapes. He aimed for a large shape and pushed from the pillar stumbling toward a tall man like a large, grotesque baby on his first solo. Stan, unable to judge distance or trajectory slammed hard with his shoulder, hitting the shape square in the back driving him to the trolley tracks below, rebounded into a woman. She screamed as she pin wheeled frantically with her arms and dropped to her knees to keep from falling from the platform. The man to her left lunged toward the screaming woman in an attempt to grab her flailing left arm before she slipped.

Adrenaline jolts pounded Stan’s unguided reflexes. He retracted from the contact, jammed a shoulder against the man’s back sending them both rolling from the platform in a screaming heap.

Shock stopped the crowd.

Stephen spun at the scream to see the man and women drop off the side of the platform. He watched as the bloody creature lurched toward his mom and Will, and still no one moved.

Motion to his right drew his attention as an officer stepped off the staircase and took in the scene as if trying to get his bearings in the sparse light before moving onto the platform.

“Zombie,” Stephen screamed as he ran toward Will, “Mom.” Stephen’s mother turned when she heard his scream. He could see the panic register on her face as adrenaline hit her heart. She grabbed for Will sitting wide eyed and staring toward the bruised and bloodied face.

Hearing Stephen’s terrified scream the officer pulled his service pistol from his belt. Stephen saw him survey the platform in one quick sweep from behind the steel prison like bars separating the stair case from the platform, and moved to a position to confront Stan as he grabbed at Will's stroller to steady himself against the rushing air pushed forward by the trolley’s approach, “freeze.”

Several onlookers screamed as they realized there were people on the tracks. “Help them,” he heard an elderly man yell as he rushed across the officer’s view.

“Don’t move,” he heard the officer bellow pushing through the cage like turnstile as he tried to get a clear view while taking in the panic.

“Zombies,” people began to shout as they frantically shoved toward the exits running past Stephen and obstructing the officer’s line of sight.

Stephen watched as the officer hollered again, “Don’t move,” followed with an angry, growled command, “don’t move.”

Stephen could see the zombie now had a grip on Will’s stroller handles as he fought to keep his balance. Stumbling toward the platform edge he lifted the stroller attempting to catch himself and slammed it back to the ground stunning Will and causing Stephen’s mom to belt out a screech of panic.

Stephen lunged toward Stan launching himself into Stan’s chest as the officer fired.

“Stephen,” his mother’s scream echoed in his ears. Terrified?

He landed against Stan’s chest. Weak.

The first bullet struck Stephen between the shoulder blades driving him into Stan as his legs let go. Stan grabbed Stephen dropping his hold on the stroller, and lurched backward toward the edge of the platform. The officer fired again slamming the lead into Stan's forehead and driving him backward another step.

Can’t let go, Stephen thought. What happened?

Stan’s legs collapsed as he fell backward pulling Stephen along with him and dropped from the platform beneath the trolley rumbling around the corner. The sound of screeching steel upon steel filled the tunnel as the driver applied the brakes attempting to avoid slamming into the injured people scrambling to escape.

About the Authors

Thomas and Nancy come from very different backgrounds. Thomas was raised in a military family and lived through the separations of war and the challenges that a family faces when coming back together. Challenges such as injuries and the frailty of the body and shifts in the personality that war bring to a family can force everyone to redefine how they see the themselves and the world around them. Nancy was raised in a family challenged by severe injuries. Her father was paralyzed and could no longer work causing the family to reform around a new breadwinner when their mother had to take over.

"We chose to write a book shaped around these realities and the challenges that new technologies will force societies all over the world to deal with very soon. Mind uploading, neural networks, and human gene manipulation combined with new medical discoveries may become a new reality that we must all understand and learn what it means to our lives. These are realities today that were only science fiction just a few years ago that will soon have a real and direct effect on our lives."

Tom earned his Ph.D. in Organization and Management in 2012 and has other books including Trust in Virtual Teams.

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"The Takers" by D. T. Peterson

The Takers

by D. T. Peterson

Description

Holograms, guns, celebrity status, a penchant for theft, and red warpaint tattoos.

This is the arsenal of the Takers, a gang of Robin Hood-like thieves terrorizing the rich in Chicago during the year 2067. Enthralled with their reputation and the chance to support her fellow lower-class citizens, a young woman named Lash gleefully becomes their newest member. Her quick-thinking and eagerness to learn earns her acceptance and an invitation to the gang's most important heist yet. But as Lash learns more about the Takers' history and intentions, she begins to realize there's more to the gang than meets the eye.

Excerpt

Lashira Grey wiped away the blood on her cheek as she looked in the mirror.

“Looks good, Lash,” Zeke said, standing beside her.

With her fingers, she followed the three bright red streaks freshly tattooed on her dark-skinned face. One was above her left eye, one was below, and the third ran diagonal across her left cheek. It was the infamous mark of a Taker.

Lash turned around to look at the others with her in the tattoo parlor, all of them Takers as well. Their gang operated as a modern Robin Hood in the city of Chicago, stealing what they could from the rich and powerful and using it to help the poor and oppressed. At least, that was what they claimed. For the most part, stealing from the rich was what they put into practice. But this was enough for Lash. She idolized them, as did many of the poor in Chicago. They represented a form of class warfare the public could stomach: theft, not bloodshed.

The trio of red stripes on each Taker’s face represented war paint and was a symbol of courage and life-long dedication to their cause, a symbol each member could proudly display in public. They were mini-celebrities in Chicago, respected as heroes by many. While the infamy made them targets of police suspicion, questioning, and surveillance, a red tattoo was never enough for an arrest. The three streak symbol was usually the only identifier left behind at crime scenes, whether graffitied on walls or visible on conveniently-corrupted camera footage.

And now, Lash was one of them. It had been hard, contacting them and earning their trust. But after making an impression on Zeke, she was soon accepted. The tattoo had been the final step in her initiation.

“So, when do we get started?” Lash asked.

“Tonight,” Penelope said, the current de facto leader of the Takers. She was sometimes referred to as Penny, and the nickname was an accurate summary of her wealth before she joined the Takers, though the bronze coin was no longer a part of US currency and her current economic situation was dramatically different. Unknown to the public, the Takers did not give away everything they took.

“What are we going to do?” Lash asked.

Penelope smiled and said, “What we do best. Take.”

That evening, the Takers parked along the street of a particularly wealthy neighborhood. In fact, one of the mayor’s houses sat one block away, though the Takers weren’t stupid enough to provoke the man in charge of the city’s police force. Their target that night was the mansion of a wealthy executive, who was currently enjoying a vacation in South America. The exquisite home was surrounded by a line of trees intended for privacy, something the Takers were happy to use to their advantage.

“Ok, so we just go in and take whatever we can find?” Lash asked.

“No. We’d be here all night if we wanted to just take anything that looked pretty. To make this count, we have to grab only what’s important,” Zeke explained.

“And what’s important?”

“Anything high-tech. Mini-computers, holographic projectors, anything that’s lightweight like that. This stuff is easy to take, easy to sell, and easy to miss. We want them to know we hit them. We want this to hurt. And, if we’re lucky, sometimes we can use the computers to access their bank accounts. They’re tough to steal from, but it sure is fun to buy them all kinds of crap they don’t want. Tons of toilet paper, random furniture, weird sex dolls… One time we used a guy’s account to order three-hundred thousand custom pens, all engraved with ‘You’re an asshole.’ Good times.”

“Wow. What did that guy do?” Lash asked.

“Huh?”

“The guy with all the pens. Why’d you go after him?”

Zeke frowned. “I dunno. He was rich. He gets to sit in his castle eating caviar while others are on the streets eating a few dry noodles. Therefore, he’s an asshole and fair game for us. It’s not that complicated, Lash.”

“I know, I know.” Some part of her still wasn’t content, but the light pain on her face from her tattoo reminded her that the time for second guessing was long gone.

“Ok everyone, let’s get started. Lash, you’re going to go in first with Zeke. Clear the place, then the rest of us will come in. Got it?” Penelope asked.

“What happens if there’s a security system?” Lash asked.

“There will be one. Zeke will show you what to do.”

“Let’s go,” Zeke said, pulling open the door of their van and stepping outside.

Lash followed and looked around. The only vehicles on the road were the three vans the Takers had arrived in. It was dark, and Lash hoped the black clothes they all wore would be enough to conceal their actions from any neighbors. She was surprised by Zeke’s nonchalant stride across the road. He was entirely unconcerned that anyone would see them.

As they neared the mansion’s front lawn, Zeke stretched out a hand to stop Lash. He pointed to the corners of the front lawn and said, “Sensors.”

They walked along the sidewalk until they reached the corner of the property. As Zeke had predicted, hidden in the grass was a small, green object.

“What is it?” Lash asked.

“Motion sensor. Nothing impressive, though I’m sure whatever it’s linked to is. If we step on the lawn, the whole neighborhood will know we’re here.”

“Can you turn it off?”

Zeke shook his head. “Not from here. We have to do that inside.”

“So, we’re stuck?”

Zeke chuckled. “Not at all. How these things work is they only go off when large objects pass by. Otherwise, the cops would be here everyday because of bunnies.”

“Bunnies?”

“Yeah, and squirrels or whatever. Animals are always running around people’s lawns, so the system won’t go off if it only picks up small objects.”

“How does that help us?”

“We hide behind the bunnies,” Zeke said with a smile.

Lash gave him an incredulous look.

Zeke pulled out a small metal stick and extended it to nearly three feet. Then, he pushed it into the ground right at the edge of the mansion’s front lawn. He pulled out his palm-sized mini-computer and put in a command. The stick began to project a holographic, two-dimensional bunny on the lawn.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Lash blurted out.

“Check it out,” Zeke said, pointing to the sensor. There was now a tiny yellow light on its side.

“What does that mean?”

“The sensor has picked up something, but it’s not big enough to set off the alarm. Now if we just…” Zeke then put in another command on his computer. The stick now projected a long line of hologram bunnies, running in a constant stream across the lawn. They were abnormally large, yet the sensor light remained yellow. “Now, all we have to do is crawl to the door. As long as we stay behind them, the sensor won’t be able to tell that we are a large enough object to set off the alarm.”

“That’s amazing.”

Zeke smiled. “This job certainly has its perks.” He then walked over to the other side of the lawn and set up another stick along with another line of bunnies. When he returned, he said, “Ok, let’s go.”

“How will we know if this works?”

“The light on the sensor will turn red, there will be loud noises, and people in uniforms will show up. Trust me, we’ll know if it doesn’t.”

“Seems like overkill. What if we were just some kid picking up a ball that rolled away?”

“At night? Still, you’re right. The police probably won’t respond right away. But we don’t want to take that chance.”

“Fair enough,” Lash agreed.

“Ok, follow me,” Zeke said. He got on his stomach and crawled between the two rows of holographic bunnies running on the lawn. Half a minute later, he arrived at the door and stood up against the wall. Lash checked the sensor. The light had not turned red.

Zeke impatiently beckoned for Lash to hurry up. She got on her stomach and began to crawl. It was a surreal experience as she passed the white bunny holograms on the lawn of some stranger’s house. When she reached the house, she stood up against the wall as Zeke had done and brushed off the grass from her clothes. Zeke then touched his computer and the bunnies disappeared.

They kept against the exterior wall of the house as Zeke tried to open the front door. It was locked, as expected. Zeke pulled out a small laser cutter from his pocket and cut the door in a half-circle around the door knob. Now unattached to the electronic lock, the door swung open.

“Is it always this easy?” Lash asked.

“No, but usually it is,” Zeke answered.

They stepped into the dark foyer of the mansion. A grand staircase greeted them, along with all manner of expensive decor. Zeke checked for cameras, but saw none.

“Wow,” Lash whispered. She had never seen anything quite like it. Some of the paintings on the walls were worth more money than she had seen in her entire life, though that wasn’t saying much. She was 24 and the only job she had ever taken was at a grocery store, which went out of business only two years later. It was the golden age of automation and the result was rampant unemployment. Why hire a person when a computer can do the same thing?

Zeke moved over to a small monitor on the wall near the front door. He pressed a single button and the sensors outside deactivated. Turning back to Lash, he said “Now to make sure there’s…”

A faint buzzing noise came from further in the house. Zeke grabbed Lash and threw them both to the floor. He looked at her, put a finger to his lips, and motioned for them to crawl to the adjacent room.

They quietly scrambled over into the mansion’s dining room. There was a luxurious set of wood chairs and a table which they moved behind. Zeke eyed the foyer. Lash followed his gaze and nearly gasped. Floating directly above where they had been standing seconds ago was a silver sphere, only a few inches in diameter.

They waited behind the table and chairs for a full minute until the buzzing sphere retreated back to another room. Zeke exhaled in relief.

“What was that?” Lash asked.

“It’s a little camera robot. A Securi-Drone, it’s called. It scans each room for intruders. They’re incredibly expensive, so we usually don’t see them in homes. I guess this guy is a bit more paranoid than most.”

“What do we do? Can we turn it off, or do we have to use the bunnies again?”

“Ha, no. Even bunnies would set that thing off. For now, we just have to avoid it. They always have a local computer that controls them, but unless we can access that, there’s nothing we can do.”

Penelope spoke through their headsets, which both wore on one ear. “How’s it going in there?”

“They have a Securi-Drone,” Zeke answered.

“Damn. Alright, get out of there.”

“We can handle it.”

“I know you can, but this is Lash’s first time. It’s too risky.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“No, she…”

“I can do this,” Lash said.

There was a brief pause, then Penelope replied, “Alright. But if anything goes wrong…”

“It’s on me,” Zeke finished for her.

“I was going to say ‘get the hell out of there,’ but yeah, that works too.”

“We’ll let you know what we find,” Zeke said, ending the conversation. He turned to Lash and said, “Let’s find this guy’s office. Hopefully there’s a computer there.”

They stood up from behind the table and crept into the next room. It was a massive kitchen, with long counters, a plethora of cabinets, and three refrigerators.

“Three fridges? What the hell do you need three of them for?” Zeke commented in a hushed tone. He opened one of them to find it full of a wide variety of beverages. He pulled out a beer and offered it to Lash. She shook her head. Zeke shrugged, popped open the can, and chugged half of its contents. He then poured the rest into the sink and crushed the can. As he went to put it in his pocket, Lash gave him a look.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Well, clearly we don’t want to leave any DNA.”

They proceeded out of the kitchen and found themselves in the living room. This room alone was six times the size of Lash’s apartment. She was beginning to understand why the Takers hated these people, regardless of whether they truly deserved it.

There was a hallway on the opposite side of the room. They made their way to it, keeping alert for the buzzing sound of the Securi-Drone. Halfway across, they heard it.

The two of them dove behind one of the couches. They could hear the drone flying nearly overhead, but neither of them dared move to see it. As it drew closer, Zeke crawled under the couch, followed by Lash. There was just barely enough room for the two of them.

They waited for a few minutes as the buzzing continued around the room. When the noise finally faded, they climbed out from under the couch and checked the room to make sure the drone was gone.

“Why can’t we just destroy it?” Lash asked.

“If the computer that controls it stops receiving data from the drone, an alert will go out, whether to a security agency, cops, or the guy who owns this place. Probably all of them.”

“So we need to find that computer.”

Zeke nodded.

They reached the hallway and could now see that it split into two different directions. Neither seemed more promising than the other.

“Let’s split up,” Lash suggested.

“I don’t think so. It’s my ass if anything happens to you…”

“I can take care of myself. This way we can find his office in half the time.”

“We aren’t even sure it’s on this floor,” Zeke protested.

“Exactly.”

Zeke sighed. “Alright. Keep in touch.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Lash,” Penelope said through their headsets.

“I won’t,” Lash answered.

She moved down one of the hallways and began opening doors to check the rooms. Within a minute, Zeke was out of sight. She was amazed by how big the house was. Doors opened to a bathroom, a bar room, a billiard room, a second living room, and another bathroom. She reached the final room attached to the hallway and opened the door to find a lone desk surrounded by towering bookshelves along the walls. She walked over to the desk. There was nothing there. She started to leave, but then decided to check the drawers. She walked behind the mahogany desk and opened the first one. Inside sat a mini-computer.

“I found the office and a mini-comp,” she said into the headset.

“Nice work,” Penelope answered.

“Where are you?” Zeke asked.

“Farthest room down the hallway.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Lash eyed the computer. Its holographic monitor displayed a small message: “Securi-Drone: Active.” She couldn’t access anything more without passing voice recognition or a fingerprint scan. She was surprised the security system was linked to a mini-comp, but few things those days used anything larger or less mobile. Perhaps the owner felt the security feed was something he would someday need to take with him to the bathroom. One of his many, Lash thought.

“Hey, Zeke. Do you think it would work if I…” she began to say, but was interrupted by Zeke.

“Lash!” he called. Not only could she hear his voice in her headset, but also echoing from the hallway.

She ran out to the hallway and saw him running towards her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the drone approaching. He pulled her back into the office and shut the door.

“Did it see you?” she anxiously asked.

“I don’t know, but I think it’s coming this…”

The door of the office automatically swung open as the drone floated inside. The two Takers pressed themselves against the wall next to the door. The drone was only two feet away, but its camera was aimed at the rest of the office. For a moment it was motionless. Then it began to turn.

Review

By Lynda Dickson

This is an exciting and original story set in the year 2067. The Takers tells the story of Lashira Grey, or Lash, a newly initiated Taker. Marked by red facial tattoos, the Takers are modern day Robin Hoods operating in Chicago with the help of some imaginative high-tech gadgets. There's something for everyone here. My favorite gadget was the Securi-Drone, a flying camera robot used to detect intruders.

We follow Lash and her fellow Takers during her first year on the job, culminating in the most dangerous heist of their lives. Will they get caught this time or make it through unscathed yet again?

Things start to look grim when Lash realizes that her idols are not quite who she thought they were. Lash's future is left up in the air. I just hope we get to meet her again.

The Takers is one of three short prequels to the novel Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone, set five years later. The others are Lights Out and Automation. These three prequels can also be found combined in Before the Darkness, which also includes an additional prologue and epilogue.

About the Author

D.T. Peterson is a 21-year-old storyteller and for most of those years he has been living that out through writing. He loves grappling with complex issues, uncovering exotic mysteries, and attempting to understand the darker parts of human psyches, all of which come through in his writing. If something is simple and straightforward, it's probably not something he's all that interested in. He loves challenging, complex stories with equally complex characters and settings. His writing journey has a long way to go and, for him, that's what makes it so enjoyable.

D.T. Peterson currently lives in Chambersburg, PA. His future plans involve thoroughly earning the title of "Author", learning to cook something more than eggs, and living long enough to own a self-driving car.

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