DISASTERS REAL AND IMAGINED

Nord Stream gas leak--courtesy Danish Defence.

It’s getting harder every day for science fiction writers to stay ahead of events in the real world. Predicting the future is a tricky business when climate change, swift advances in technology, pandemics, constant war and societal upheaval have become a part of our daily lives.

Right now, for example, our friends in Florida are suffering through a devastating hurricane, the worst to hit the western coast of the state in over a hundred years, while our friends in the western part of the U.S. contend with an epic drought. Both disasters have been exacerbated by climate change, which in turn has been caused by human action over time.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, a different kind of environmental disaster is unfolding, almost certainly caused by direct human action on a much quicker time scale. Four leaks have been discovered in the Russian Nord Stream gas pipeline in the Baltic Sea that carries fuel to Europe. The leaks are spewing natural gas, releasing over half a million metric tons of methane into the ocean. Methane makes up the largest part of natural gas, and though the leaks will likely have minimal effect on local wildlife, the amount of methane released into the atmosphere is equivalent to the annual emissions of two million cars, according to Andrew Baxter, a methane expert at the Environmental Defense Fund.

Experts think the leaks are the result of sabotage of the pipeline, though they have no proof, and as yet can identify no culprit. Certainly Russia would have no motive; Putin and company have every incentive to keep the gas flowing to ensure income to support the war in Ukraine. It’s highly doubtful the Ukrainians would do it, either. They have neither the time nor the resources to mount such a mission. So far, then, it’s a mystery.

But to return to my original point, this story is eerily similar to the plot of a Norwegian science fiction/disaster film I saw a few weeks back on Hulu, titled THE BURNING SEA (2021). In this film, from the creative team behind THE QUAKE (2018) and THE WAVE (2015), and directed by John Andreas Andersen, drilling for oil in the North Sea opens fissures in the seabed, leading to disaster. Oil rigs explode! People are killed and trapped! Oil spreads over the sea, threatening coastlines from Scandinavia to Europe and Britain! The only solution is to set the oil on fire before it fouls the entire North Sea basin.

Since I love a good disaster film, no matter what its country of origin, I enjoyed THE BURNING SEA. The writing was decent, the effects were great, and the acting was more than competent. I thought the plot pretty far-fetched, of course, but now I’m wondering if it really was that far out. Yes, the current Nord Stream disaster is the result of deliberate sabotage, not an uncontrollable cracking of the seabed. And the leaks from the pipeline are of far more manageable natural gas, not oil. Still, you have to think, what if . . .?

On the other hand, we really do have more than enough to worry about. Ian is on the way north as we speak. So, excuse me while I go to batten down the hatches.

Cheers, Donna

*Information for today’s post provided by: “As fourth Nord Stream leak is discovered, here’s what scientists are saying about the environment impact,” by Anviksha Patel, Marketwatch, msn.com, September 29, 2022. https://www.msn.com/en-us/money/markets/as-fourth-nord-stream-leak-is-discovered-here-s-what-scientists-are-saying-about-the-environment-impact/ar-AA12niL1?ocid=BHEA000&cvid=08b7cc2bb5d34df7b088fc480efed81a

 

“Russian Gas Leak Could Be Environmental Disaster,” by Avi Salzman, Barron’s, September 27, 2022. https://www.marketwatch.com/articles/russia-gas-leak-environment-51664314465?mod=article_inline

 

 

 

You have to have a powerful villain

 In any story where there's a hero and a villain, the two have to be at least evenly matched. It's even better if the villain is stronger than the hero. The stakes are raised and the hero has to work that bit harder to succeed. Take Harry Potter; we meet him as an eleven-year-old proto-wizard. Just as well Lord Voldemort is also in proto-villain mode, gathering his strength over time. It's only in book four, The Goblet of Fire, when he's back in shape, as it were. Then there's Batman and the Joker, Batman and Penguin, Superman and kryptonite in the hands of Lex Luther.

When I eventually got around to writing a sequel to Morgan's Choice, I had to come up with a villain to match, or surpass, Morgan Selwood. I suppose, in a way, Morgan is a super hero. She's a cyborg who can interface with just about any computer. She sort of has an AI in her head which can learn as it goes. But what's better than a supertech? I'd already done the ancient AI, Artemis, in Morgan's Choice. Where to from here?

I'd already decided that Morgan would be going home, back to where she came from when her spaceship malfunctioned and threw her into unknown space. She would be going back to find the origins of the Manesai society where she'd ended up, and she would be confronting some of her own past, as well. But what's stronger than a supertech?

Eventually it came to me. Another supertech. One that had gone rogue but had been smart enough to avoid being found out and eliminated. One that was jealous of Morgan.

Here's a snippet from the book.

***

Through the ships' sensors Morgan watched the station's locking arms retract into themselves like some sort of huge insect folding its limbs. She couldn't wait to get out of the place. Iniciara had been crossed off the one-hundred-places-you-must-visit-before-you-die list. What a stinking, messy, dump. She hadn't even liked eating the food there. Who knew where it came from? What it was? She bet the half of it was synthetic, made in a factory somewhere.

Curlew shuddered and began to move backwards. The station had applied enough thrust to push the ship out of the bay and into clear space, with the ship's systems controlling her drift so Curlew stayed equidistant between the docking bay walls. Beyond the bay, the station's slowly-receding bulk rose before them, a metal pincushion of ships, arranged in slowly-turning tiers.

Aft and forward side thrusters fired. Curlew pivoted, then followed a traffic lane to the designated jump area for Torreno. For Morgan, that really would be almost like coming home. She'd spent many a year on the Coalition's capital planet, some good, some not so good. Judging by the lack of traffic, Torreno wasn't a favored destination from Iniciara. Or maybe all the traffic for that destination had already left. Whatever. Space was a very empty place out here.

"Crew prepare for shift transfer in ten," Jirra announced.

One last check of the sensors… Morgan's heart thudded. "Missile, coming fast, from starboard." She'd raised the shields before she'd finished the words. "Prepare for impact." They wouldn't be able to avoid the strike whatever she did.

The shields fairly blazed, crackling with power as the warhead exploded. Morgan hung on to her seat, grateful for the harness, as Curlew was flung across space. Warning lights flashed. Shields were down seventy percent. If she hadn't seen the missile coming at the last moment, they would have been history. Idiot. Fool. How could you be so complacent? And another tiny voice whispered, how could you miss it? How could you not have seen it?

Morgan, Ravindra and the rest of the crew go through  a series of adventures that will test all of them, including Morgan's relationship with Ravindra. He can get a tad jealous :)

 

When you delve into ancient history you never know what strange forces you might unleash.

When Morgan Selwood and Admiral Ashkar Ravindra travel to Morgan’s Human Coalition to learn more about the origin of Ravindra’s people, their relationship is soon sorely tested. Morgan is amongst her own people and Ravindra is overprotective and insecure, afraid of losing her. But not everyone is keen to welcome Morgan home, not when they’d gone to all that trouble to get rid of her in the first place. Soon Morgan and Ravindra have a rogue Supertech on their trail with only one goal – kill Selwood.

Together, Morgan and Ravindra follow a tenuous trail back into humanity’s past, to the time historians call the Conflagration. But what begins as an innocent archaeological investigation escalates into a deadly peril for both humans and Manesai when Morgan and Ravindra are thrust into the middle of an unexpected conflict. And that rogue Supertech’s still out there, itching for revenge.

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Space Opera/ Science Fiction Romance. There are some non-specific sex scenes. There’s action adventure and politics – and a little bit of swearing. That’s how Morgan is.

Cheers,

Greta

 

 

CAPTIVE (The Survival Race, book 1) - CHAPTER 38

In last week's episode of CAPTIVE, Addy's water broke weeks early. Now she has to deliver a premature baby on an umiak boat that keeps crashing into ice floes without Max's help. He needs to protect the vessel from bring smashed to pieces and killing them all. Can Max and Addy survive?

An abducted cop and a gladiator prisoner must learn to trust each other with their lives…and their hearts…to escape their alien captors.    

 

Catch up reading on CAPTIVE here for free: Chapter 1  Ch 2  Ch 3  Ch 4  Ch 5  Ch 6  Ch 7  Ch 8  Ch 9  Chs 10&11  Ch 12  Ch 13  Ch 14  Ch 15  Ch 16  Ch 17  Ch 18  Ch 19  Ch 20  Ch21  Ch22  Chs 23&24  Chs 25&26  Ch27  Ch28  Ch29  Ch 30  Chs 31&32  Chs 33&34  Ch35  Ch36  Ch37

 

CAPTIVE

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Beep beep beep beep.

Max stopped rowing. Addy’s running watch had been set to sound every fifteen hours for her prenatal injections. Though she hadn’t needed the shots since giving birth yesterday, he hadn’t shut it off.

He looked forward to the sound just as he looked forward to Noah’s feeding cries. It gave him another reason to go to Addy’s side. Though touching her arm when turning off the alarm didn’t hold as much pleasure as touching her breasts when feeding the kid.

Of course, her breasts inevitably triggered intimate memories of the breeding box...or the ice cave...or the shower.

Hell, yeah, the shower. Hot water and steam and her naked body inches from his in a tight space. When she had turned from him to lather, he would have killed to be the soap sliding up and down her wet, tempting skin.

He’d had to recall every bloody battle and savage gladiator death he could to prevent slamming her against the wall and forcing himself deep inside her.

Blood rushed to his groin. Again.

Hell.

The woman was one-day postpartum, fever sick, and unconscious, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about having sex with her. “Damn beast. Control your urges.” Five—maybe ten—seconds in the ice-cold water should quell his lust.

Beep beep beep beep.

Right. The watch. His swim would have to wait.

He dropped the oars on the umiak floor before crawling into the tent and turning off the alarm.

She burned with fever. The rise and fall of her chest faded to near nonexistence. Weaker than a newborn lemming, Addy grew worse. In and out of consciousness the past thirty hours, she managed a few sips of water and broth. Under normal circumstances that would have been a good thing, since his cold fish soup tasted like crap, but this wasn’t normal. Addy was noticeably dehydrated.

Noah stirred and cried.

As Max positioned Addy and the kid for feeding, a thick lump fisted in his gut. How much milk could the boy get this time? Was he even doing the right thing? Nursing had to be dehydrating Addy and using up precious energy she needed for healing. What if he were prolonging Noah’s demise and speeding up Addy’s?

Her alarm rang again. He turned it off. What if he gave her the prenatal shot? Maybe the vitamins or whatever was in those injections would help her get better. He found the syringe in her bag, positioned it at her navel, and waited for the buzzes before the injection.

Nothing happened. No buzz. No kickback. No vibration from a shot. He repositioned it again and again, but nothing happened.

“Dammit.” He threw the syringe aside, and it ricochet off the wood frame. Now what?

Heat radiated from her body. Goose bumps covered her flesh. What was causing her fever? An internal infection?

Leaving Noah to suckle, Max took a piece of baby blanket he had ripped into rags and slipped out of the tent to dunk it into cold seawater.

He didn’t know how many miles south they had traveled, but guessed the day’s temperature hovered between zero and fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. The warmer weather would be good for Addy and Noah, especially since they ran out of thermal cream. Limiting his application to face, fingers, and toes the last week had extended the cream’s use. At least the heating cube did a decent job of keeping the tent a good fifty degrees warmer than the outside.

Once again at Addy’s side, Max wiped her forehead with the cold cloth.

Recalling their first night together, she had looked so young. Vibrant. Healthy. Now her face was drawn and sallow, her hair greasy and matted with thermal cream and sickness, her body limp.

His throat constricted. He couldn’t breathe. Gulping in air did little to help. He hated being as helpless as she looked.

Gone was the wildcat who had shredded his chest with her nails. Gone was the woman who didn’t take crap from anyone, including the damn aliens. Gone were the two things he loved most about her: her fire and passion.

He rubbed his chest, but it didn’t alleviate the ache. There was nothing more he could do.

Why the hell couldn’t he protect anyone?

“Why won’t your fever break?” he whispered so as not to disturb Noah. He had fallen asleep with her nipple in his mouth. Lucky kid. Maybe when Addy got better, she’d let him do the same thing. His libido stirred. Dammit. The poor woman was dying, and he couldn’t stop thinking about sex. What was wrong with him?

The hair on his neck perked up, warning him to listen. Something didn’t sound right.

He scrambled out of the tent and scanned the horizon. The familiar, unwelcome hum preceded a surfacing subaquatic behind them. The Hyborean craft loomed a good distance away.

Crouching, he made his way to the bow rope and pulled hand-over-hand until the umiak met the iceberg towing it. He tied the shortened rope around the gladimort jammed in the ‘berg, hoping the ice would provide a bit of cover.

Though clearly in the South Arctic Current, the subaquatic gained no ground. The craft held its position. Ferly Mor must have learned they were on Tuniit land and figured he’d wait for them to come through the Southwest Passage. If Max hadn’t pressed the wolves as hard as he did, Ferly Mor would have been ahead of them. The umiak would’ve drifted right into his ship.

Vaulting into survival mode, he yanked the sword out of the ice, and reached for the oars. Addy’s languid body, seared on his mind’s eye, stopped him. How long could she teeter on the verge of death before slipping away?

Ferly Mor held the power to save her. He also held the power to lock her in a breeding box and force Noah to suffer a gladiator’s savage existence. That would happen over Max’s dead body, which about summed up his fate if he were captured.

If he went forward, he’d risk Addy’s ultimortem and most likely starve Noah. If he went back, he’d risk his own death plus Addy and Noah’s unbearable fates.

I’d rather die free than live like an animal, she had said.

It wasn’t an easy decision to pick up the oars and row away from Ferly Mor.

Max rowed into the night, pausing here and there to check on his precious cargo or to rub the ache from his shoulders or to quench his thirst, before pulling the oars harder to make up for lost time. Blistered hands burned inside his gloves. Exhaustion attacked his body. Every muscle ached to the point of numb fatigue. Still, he rowed.

His grip slipped off the oar again.

Sleep. He needed sleep. But he had to keep rowing. The current alone wasn’t enough to distance the umiak from Ferly Mor. How long might the Hyborean linger there before continuing his search south? No way in hell could he outrun a Hyborean watercraft.

With each heavy blink, the starry night disappeared and reappeared until it vanished all together. His body slumped forward, waking him. Okay, maybe a ten-minute catnap would revitalize him enough to row harder. Besides it was time to check on Addy and Noah.

He wiped sea spray and sweat from his face. With the amount of heat radiating off him, he’d warm up the tent in minutes. He dragged himself inside. The lightstick cast an ominous glow over Addy’s body.

He shuddered. Max squeezed her hand, and Addy’s eyes opened. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. Gray irises spoke with an intensity that ripped through him like the arctic wind, and his gut froze into a lump.

Her eyes said Promise me as clear as if she’d articulated the words, then they closed and she exhaled her last breath.

Endorphins flooded his veins, empowered him with the vigor of five gladiators. He searched for a pulse. Nothing. He rested an ear on her chest. No heartbeat. No rise or fall.

Please, no! She can’t be dead. She couldn’t leave him now, not after her fire had melted the abominable beast inside, not after she’d made him feel human, not after she’d made him feel.

He pinched her nose and covered her mouth with his. Did he even remember CPR? ABC. Airway. Breathing. Circulation. He blew twice into her mouth then pounded on her chest.

No response.

Two more breaths. More compressions.

Still nothing.

“Breathe, dammit.” His yell startled Noah, whose apathetic cries spoke volumes.

Again and again he performed mouth-to-mouth, but Addy wouldn’t reawaken.

Panic, frustration, and anger rose inside him, annihilating what little composure he had left. He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. “Why the hell didn’t you stay with the Tuniit, you stupid woman?”

Her head flopped back. Matted red-blonde hair hung limp behind her lifeless body.

“Oh, Addy.” He choked back raw, unfamiliar emotion. His lungs constricted. How could he breathe when everything inside him broke? Gently, he cradled her head and drew her body to his, holding her tight against an aching chest, burying his face in her hair. “Why didn’t I go back to Ferly Mor?” He repeated it over and over again as he rocked her.

Noah’s weak cry pierced Max’s heart until he could bear it no longer. He released Addy, her hair clinging to his tears as he laid her back on the pelt.

With heavy, trembling hands, he picked up his scrawny son, who barely filled his palms. “Forgive me”—he choked on hot tears—“for killing your mommy.”

#

Wait...what?!? Addy can't be dead, can she? How will the baby survive without its mother? Find out next week in Chapters 39 & 40 or read the full story now for only $2.99 at your favorite retailers.

K.M. Fawcett

Romance with a rebel heart  

www.kmfawcett.com