Somedays⊠the right thing is the wrong thing to do.
Sky trucker Winston Harper thought he was in the clear. He evaded imperial forces to deliver his contraband cargo, escaped a black void event, and performed the heroic rescue of a medical facility. But, no good deed goes unpunished, because his act of mercy has landed him in a load of trouble.
Now heâs stuck dealing with a cargo load of crazy, including a noble woman trying to free her brother-in-law from false imprisonment, a stowaway that almost fried his brain and a corrupt administrator determined to lobotomize them all to keep the secrets of the Bonavitae Corporation hidden.
Add to that an epic storm, being stalked by pirates from behind and imperial security cutting them off, Winston and company are caught between rocks and hard cases, with options dwindling fast. Itâs going to take a whole lot of skill and a ton of luck to get back control of his tug, the Sierra Madre, from those who hijacked it and fly out of this cheis-storm!
This is the sequel for "Dreams Within Dreams", the second book in the "Tales From the Dream Nebula" series.
Somedays⊠the right thing is the wrong thing to do.
Sky trucker Winston Harper thought he was in the clear. He evaded imperial forces to deliver his contraband cargo, escaped a black void event, and performed the heroic rescue of a medical facility. But, no good deed goes unpunished, because his act of mercy has landed him in a load of trouble.
Now heâs stuck dealing with a cargo load of crazy, including a noble woman trying to free her brother-in-law from false imprisonment, a stowaway that almost fried his brain and a corrupt administrator determined to lobotomize them all to keep the secrets of the Bonavitae Corporation hidden.
Add to that an epic storm, being stalked by pirates from behind and imperial security cutting them off, Winston and company are caught between rocks and hard cases, with options dwindling fast. Itâs going to take a whole lot of skill and a ton of luck to get back control of his tug, the Sierra Madre, from those who hijacked it and fly out of this cheis-storm!
This is the sequel for "Dreams Within Dreams", the second book in the "Tales From the Dream Nebula" series.
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The âCloud9 Port-Oâ-Callâ was a cheis-hole rock of heat-blasted dust, just inside a dry band of the Dreamâs atmosphere. Nothing more than a way-point for long-haul sky truckers. Here they could stop for maintenance, supplies and to socialize in person.
Mother decided their virtual instance was not much better. It dripped with a gritty grindhouse âcinĂ©ma vĂ©ritĂ©â vibe she found tacky. Rather than polishing off the rough edges, it showcased them, as if every spot of rust and dent was a point of pride. It was like she was in some perverse southwestern horror movie.
Winston should have checked in by now. This wasnât like him. No, wait, she reconsidered. It was completely like him.
He was probably simmed out and she wouldnât hear anything for maybe an hour or two. Perhaps a comm would wake him up. There was a good chance he was close enough to live-stream. She made a quick try, but no one answered. A check for his nav beacon and found it was functional, meaning there wasnât any damage to block her, and they were in range. The Sierra Madre was in autistic mode, which blocked or ignored all outside signals. That wasnât typical.
She would have to wait. That did not sweeten her spirit.
~~~
The Sierra Madre coasted along at a dead-slow pace. For the last few hours, Billy Joe busied himself with minor repairs on one of their container exteriors. He had given up doing repairs inside. It was too frustrating with all the refugees. They were always in the way.
A patient tried to eat his utility sand skirt. They claimed it looked like âsmoked maple syrup with sugar crystal crumbly bits.â
Then there was the constant flood of questions from passengers for whom he had no answer.
Yes, we are safe.
Yes, we would unload soon.
Donât touch that!
No. I donât know what time dinner is.
How should I know if that's infected? See a nurse.
No. I donât want to play holocards.
Stop grabbing my nanosand. I donât grab your hair!
He estimated the refugees had enough water, emergency rations, and medical supplies to last them a day or two. Still, Billy Joe sure hoped they could offload these people before things got ugly. Bionts got dangerous when deprived of the essentials of life and comfort. Visualizing the possible food riot gave Billy Joe a little shudder.
He finished grinding smooth the last remnants of a new spot weldâs rough edges. Now the lock latched as intended. Satisfied, he went forward to the cab. The airlock closed behind him, making a sigh that echoed his frustration.
While putting his tools away, he heard a computer alert bleeping. He slid over to see they were an hour out of their destination. The comm suite next to it showed a pending message from Mother. He tapped it open and read she was now in livecomm range. That was good enough for him. Time to wake Hoss.
Winston must have gotten eight hours of sleep, according to Billy Joeâs internal clock. The indu slid over to the sleeper door and gave it a heavy rap.
âYo, Hoss!â he yelled. âTime to get yoâself up!â
No answer.
âHoss!â he shouted again. This time he banged the door a lot harder.
There was a muffled sound of movement, but again no answer.
âCome on, son, Motherâs on the horn and she wants ta talk.â
Billy Joe hoped Winston had not locked himself in his Levitown instance again. He switched his focus over to the Sierra Madre's virtual interface and dove into the server. There he called up Winstonâs private node and tried to enter.
An error message popped up. His attempt to access Winston's home instance was rebuffed. Did the launcher crash? Miss Holly had done an awful lot of damage to the server that was beyond his repair skills.
Billy Joe made a second attempt. After a long lag, the instance accepted his login. Irritated, he ran the repair tool and took a diagnostic snapshot of the program. The instance launcher wasn't crashed but was stuck. The loading montage was caught in a loop. Had the program gone corrupt?
He went into the bio-rhythmic data log to see what went wrong. Something wasnât right. This should be easy to open, but the program seemed frozen. A power flux could have done it but they hadnât suffered any disruptions. Winston would have rebooted his software within seconds if this was the case. Otherwise, it would have kicked him out of the launcher as a safety feature.
Billy Joe opened the only file he could, the error log. The same message ran every second for tens of thousands of seconds.
~~~
<<ERROR: #1279374.34VIT>>
<!Concussion detected!>
<!Simulation can not connect!>
<Reason: Medical obstruction to neural induction relays>
<Reason: Transmitters misaligned/out of safe tolerance parameters>
<!*SYNAPSE BURN DETECTED*!>
<!*SEEK IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ASSISTANCE*!>
~~~
Billy Joe snapped back to the real world and slammed open the sleeper door. Winston was half-rolled over on his side, not flat on his back like how he normally slept. Like a snake, a glossy black arm thrust a pistol out from under Winstonâs armpit and fired twice.
The low-aimed rounds, intended to blow an intruderâs legs off, struck Billy Joeâs utility skirt. Splatters of gooey sand sprayed all over the sleeper and cab, then quickly flowed back to reintegrate with him.
âNahq it all!â he shouted and surged his nanosand out to seize his attacker.
Billy Joe's arms transformed into tendrils and he slithered them around Winstonâs unconscious body. Holly screamed more in surprise than terror as they wrapped about her like enraged pythons. He jerked her out from behind Winstonâs unconscious body and slammed her into the ceiling with a loud bang. Dazed, she dropped her pistol.
âYou lying, backstabbing, abominable little...! I should crush you right now! What did you do to him, you whore!â Billy Joeâs arms wound tighter around her limbs like a hungry octopus wrapping up a crab.
Holly could only grunt and wheeze with her rib cage and abdomen compressing in his industrial-strength coils. âI⊠I didnât mean... t⊠to hurt you, Billy Joe.â
âAnd thatâs why yâshot me? By mistake? But hurtinâ Hoss, that was on purpose?â His auto-tuned growl fuzzed with a hot static buzz.
âWanted... to p- hkkk⊠prove- whoâs boss. Didnât mean... tâ knoooohhhhhh...hck- knock him out,â Holly pleaded.
Her eyes shimmered with pretty tears of agony. Billy Joe was immune to her begging and manipulative beauty. She squirmed but even her enhanced strength was insignificant compared to his own. He could move ten-ton pallets. Nothing she could do could compare to that. A few more pascals of pressure and he would pulp her.
Warnings from his morality governors began flashing red in his mindâs eye as he inched up to her fatal limits. A little more and his behavioral safety interlocks would shut him down.
With a sigh, her grimace went slack with relief. Billy Joe realized her pain editors kicked in. The torment was no longer a factor for her.
âThat ainât helpinâ your situation none, Miss Holly,â he said, then drew her face close to his. âBesides, Iâm of good mind to let you float home.â His threat was a soft rumble.
Hollyâs eyes shot wide open. âNo, ple-hheeeeee..ase! I cân- hkk⊠hhhuuu...make this right,â she squealed pitifully, using the teaspoon of breath she was still able to draw.
Billy Joe considered her claim. Little red warnings still pulsed in his processor. A timer was now ticking down toward forced shutdown if he did not abort.
He looked at Winston, who gurgled a little in his catatonic state. His glazed eyes twitched in random directions. That synapse burn looked more serious than he knew how to deal with.
âAll right. I may need yer help in landing us. So Iâll let you live. But ifân you cross me, Iâll chuck you overboard faster'n you could slap a horsefly.â Billy Joe drove his point home with a final sharp squeeze, like a boa constrictor's heart-stopping crush. Slowly, he put her down. The red warnings from his morality governors went back to green.
A few plates in Hollyâs armor, deformed by Billy Joeâs squeeze, sprung back into shape with hollow pops. Now that her lungs could fully expand again, she noisily sucked in air.
Billy Joe watched her as she sprawled against the wall next to Winstonâs body. Her hands drifted to her empty holsters.
âHow stupid do yâthink I am?â Billy Joe said.
Holly gave him a confused look.
Billy Joe drew her pistols and magazines out from his utility skirt. They were encapsulated in a pair of pseudopods. âYou kin have these back when I think yer trustworthy again or off my airship.â
âForce of habit. I just reacted,â she groaned.
âI donât care,â Billy Joeâs words dripped with venom. The pseudopods melted back into his lower half, hiding the weapons again.
âYou made your point. Iâll play it straight,â she said, sitting up.
âHow you gonna make things right? Hoss needs medical help, and not from those brain butchers in back,â Billy Joe demanded.
âBrain butchers?â Holly coughed.
âYeah, those doctors that run the nut hut we just rescued? Remember?â Billy Joe asked.
âAnd you donât trust âem. All right. I get that,â Holly said with a weak nod.
âSo how you gonna fix this?â Billy Joe loomed over the wired assassin.
âI dunno. Iâm not qualified to deal with synapse burn from a cheap induction rig,â she snapped petulantly. She didnât dare meet his glowering eyes. Billy Joe realized sheâd been running her mouth to stay alive. The urge to chuck her off the Sierra Madre quickly returned.
âIt wasnât a cheap inductor that caused this!â Billy Joe snapped. âYou gave him a concussion! Thaâs what did it!â
Hollyâs face drained of color, her lips and eyes paling to near white.
âYou didnât know that?â Billy Joe realized, surprised at her reaction.
âNo,â she whispered hoarsely. âI was tired and upset. I thought I just rung his bell and he'd sleep it off, so I put his rig on him because that's what he always seemed to do. If⊠if I knew he had a concussion... and I didnât⊠Iâd have never put it on him.â
âSo do you actually know how to get him back?â Billy Joe demanded, sliding in close, looming over her hunched figure.
âNot really. The people who would know are the ones you donât want to involved with this. They have the equipment and the training,â Holly admitted.
âThen we gotta get some other ideas on what to do,â Billy Joe concluded and went back to the cab. âCome on. Youâre gonna have to explain to Mother what you done, Miss Holly.â
When we last left our intrepid hero, sky trucker Winston Harper, he had just escaped a Black Void and rescued hostages at a medical clinic. Youâd think he might collect something for his heroic efforts. Like a reward. But nooooo! Heâs just landed in the hurt locker. Or, more specifically, in brain-burn in this second installment of the lightning-quick, hot octane sci fi adventure series, Tales From the Dream Nebula.
As you may recall from Book 1 in this series, Dreams Within Dreams, Winston Harper got involved with criminals and rebels against the Empire in order to stave off bankruptcy. It did not go well. In fact, heâs now in a mess. And probably wanted for treason by the evil Xiao (Hi, Darth Vader).
To survive, âMotherâ is going to have to figure out a way to start over, erase Winston and his mechoid loadmaster Billy "Bubby" Joeâs pasts, and launder their Imperial identities. Itâs a tall order. But Motherâs nothing if not ⊠tall. In fact, at seven inches high, sheâs not âtallâ at all. But what Mother lacks in height she makes up for in sheer brilliance. (Incidentally, âMotherâ isnât exactly the kind you take out to brunch on Motherâs Day. To find out why, youâll have to read the book yourself.)
Then Winston & Co., including a baroness and her falsely imprisoned brother-in-law, are soon flying into the teeth of a huge storm, running from pirates, dodging imperial security, and running out of options. Fast. They have to âget the heck outta Dodgeâ before some major baddies show up. Can Winston regain control of his space tug, the Sierra Madre (Hi, Bogie)? If so, where will they go next? And what about that corrupt administratorâs plan to lobotomize the hostages? What could possibly go wrong?
Along with Billy Joe (think R2D2), Winston decides they should start with finding something worth living for. Is he going back to save femme fatale and trained assassin Holly Iverson, or âŠ? By the way, watch out for that Bubby reboot. Itâs a doozy!
This book is a lot of fun! Think Star Wars meets The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, with a little The Matrix and The Apple Dumpling Gang thrown in for good measure. It has a little of everything. Intrigue. Adventure. Slimy amphiboids. Tons of techno gadgetry. Loads of imagination and creativity. Rapier wit and dry humor by the truckload. (Pun intended.) Also tons of fantastical space creatures like âDoberman caninoids.â (Iâm thinking Zeus and Apollo, Hawaii and âHiggie, baby." You get the idea.)
One of the things that makes this book a lot of fun is its allusions to classic literature or film. Hi, Casablanca. Edmond Dantes. And that meeting with âCommodore D.P. Robertsâ? Fine. Or should I say, As you wish?
This storyline is action-packed and lightning fast. Itâs also complicated and intricate. Blink, and youâre going to wind up in oblivion. Or the Black Void. So listen up and pay attention.
All in all, Lucid Reality is smart and sassy, with a hefty dose of spunk and dialogue that snaps, crackles, and pops.
Finally, a familiarity with the first book would be helpful, but is not mandatory. Lucid Reality can be read as a stand-alone. Thereâs plenty of back story to fill you in on what happened previously so you donât get lost.
The author leaves the door open for sequel. So you might want to get in line. And start buckling up now.
My Rating: 3.5