Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

Long before our time, the advanced civilization known as “Nizalaa” spanned the globe. Armed with technology more sophisticated than any the world has ever known, the Nizalaans sought to create a perfect society. The peace was safeguarded by legions of soldiers known as Aretsuk. And among the ranks of the Aretsuk were the ultimate elite warriors of Nizalaa: the Tuqallions. While the Kustara were drawn from the population at large based on their latent psionic affinities, the Tuqallions were carefully engineered by Nizalaans geneticists to be stronger, faster, and more psionically endowed than even the most gifted of the Aretsuk. The title of Tuqallion was handed down from generation to generation, with the son or daughter of each warrior taking their place.

However, the Council of Nizala was not satisfied with the Aretsuk or the Tuqallions; their modifications did nothing to extend life or reverse aging. It therefore sanctioned its most talented scientists, Ash and Pericles, to forge ahead with newer and more dangerous experiments. When the Council discovered that Ash had disobeyed their orders and was developing components for space flight rather than genetic research, he was exiled. Dr. Pericles enjoyed more success, culminating in the creation of a completely artificial being. Pericles called his creation “Esurnmoh”, which meant “light of the future” in the Nizalaan tongue. The Council was impressed by Dr. Pericles’ creation, and immediately began to conduct tests on Esurnmoh. However, the artificial being was both more powerful and more unstable than either Pericles or the Council had anticipated. Esurnmoh broke free of his containment , and laid waste to the nation of Nizalaa.

The Council dispatched its legions of Aretsuk, backed by the Tuqallions, to destroy Esurnmoh as he lay seige to their capital of Nabsir. Esurnmoh annihalated the opposing force, leaving only a few scattered survivors in his wake. The city of Nabsir was destroyed, and both the Council and Dr. Pericles were killed. The survivors of Nizalaa were demoralized and scattered to the four winds, and Esurnmoh held sway over the entire planet. Of the once-mighty legions of Tuqallion, only five remained, and only a handful of Aretsuk accompnied them. However, by combining their own psychic powers with equipment from Pericles’ lab, they succeeded in confining Esurnmoh in an isolation cell. Unable to destroy him, the Tuqallions opened a huge rift in the earth, and buried the cell under thousands of tons of rock, as well as chunks of the devastated cities of Nizalaa.

Over time, as civilization slowly recovered, the exploits of these heroes became legend, although the descendants of the Tuqallions and the Aretsuk persisted in remote corners or the earth. Eventually, technology began to near the zenith it had once occupied under Nizalaa. But always, the threat of Esurnmoh remained–silent, buried, and patient for its inevitable release.

The star Utose 621 beats down on you as you make the long trek to Boomerstown. You’ve only ever come this way in a hoverrig, which only seems to take an instant compared to the endless weary trudge you’re enduring. But both your satellite uplink and the tracks from Hawser’s dirtrover are pointing you in the same direction.

Some miles down the road you come to a crossroads. The dirtrover tracks veer to the left, toward the small mining settlement of Oreo, but strangely your satellite uplink shows Hawser as continuing straight. You pause, puzzled at the disagreement, only to notice that the smoke rising from the ruins of your home has stopped–someone must have arrived to douse the blaze in Reacher’s Hope. It might be rescuers, or even the Rangers.

As you ponder this, you see a hoverrig approaching from the direction of Oreo, headed to the Transplant Wilderness that lays to the east. It might be possible to thumb a ride, if the driver is going slow enough, and it would sure be a load off your tired legs.

If you continue to follow Hawser’s satellite uplink trail toward Boomertown, turn to page 187.

If you wait at the crossroads until the hoverrig bound for the Transplant Wilderness arrives, turn to page 12.

Dena McHall was beginning to wonder if she’d chosen the right career.

It had taken a lot to force the doubt into her mind, though. All through school, math and science had always come easily to Dena. The written number and formula had been her most infallible companions through childhood. English and literature, with their exceptions to every rule and leftover words from the 1600s had never held the allure of mathematics and the cool, simple logic that was a part of it. You always knew where you stood with numbers; nothing went unexplained. One always equaled one.

At least that’s what Dena had thought when she’ gotten up that morning. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Dena was being given a tour of the Southern Michigan University lab complex. Her professor in Beginning Physics 110, fearing that the class was going too slowly for his star pupil, arranged for a friend of his to give Dena a tour of the complex, and to show her and experiment in progress. The professor had hoped the tour would encourage Dena to excel, while whetting her appetite for knowledge.

It was having the opposite effect.

The friend, one Dr. Alan Reynolds, a jovial, balding man of about forty, was one of the nation’s foremost physicists. He’d once been quoted as saying “The only reason I’m not up at Area 51 inventing warp drive is that my wife and I like the neighborhood here.” Dena felt uncomfortable around him, like a pathetic ant in the presence of a giant.

Murdock Odcum was never late. Privately, behind his back, he was known as the “swiss watch” by the Suffingham shopkeeps he shook down for protection money. He’d let each shopkeeper know the day and time he’d arrive at their first meeting, and never deviate from the schedule.

There was no negotiation

There were no extensions.

Only death could induce a postponement.

So, naturally, when the shopkeeps on Cosington noticed that Murdock missed all his stops that day, they assumed that someone important had died. Such was Murdock’s reputation that many delivered their protection to other agents of the Suffingham outfit anyway, begging them to tell Odcum that they had paid in full.

The shopkeeps didn’t know how right they had been until Murdock’s body was fished out of the estuary the next day. Even then, hid gold pocketwatch was still ticking.

“The Ctiverar Object…know it?”

“Sci-fi Channel original movie?”

“Mysterious structure in the middle of the Sahara.”

“Is it sand? That’s plenty mysterious.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It is if you’ve never seen sand. Maybe someone from Greenland.”

“It’s not sand.”

“What is it then?”

“Giant X, made out of stone. Natural, or so they say, but straight as a ruler. Can see it from the space shuttle.”

Time eventually ran out for the O’Fette government, though not from any of the mechanisms that they had suspected and planned for.

Parliament brought a motion of no confidence against Minister O’Fette, which failed by a considerable margin. Emboldened by this, O’Fette called for an early election, hoping to buttress his majority and achieve the numbers he needed to make his majority completely impervious to interference from other parties.

Much to his misfortune, the election season happened to coincide with the Severton Explosion, a munitions fire that eventually spread out of control and killed dozens at the navy pier. Citizens in the capitol demonstrated against the government’s perceived negligence in providing aid and protection in the wake of the disaster, and the action soon became violent. O’Fette had to call in the army to restore order.

His plan backfired, with the recent troubles leading to his ouster. O’Fette fled the country hours after the news was announced, taking with him as much of the treasury as his motorcade could accommodate.

Draque spread his arms wide. “Each squadron is named after a nasty predator: Viper, Shark, Hornet. This is Lion Hangar.”

“Guess ‘Fuzzy Bunny Squadron’ didn’t have much of a ring to it when it comes to striking fear into the enemy,” said Mayer.

“To the right enemy it would. The Dlrinians are such strict vegetarians that the very idea of coney stew would be enough to either scare them shitless or drive them into a homicidal rage. And rabbits are sacred to the Knidr, so it might just impress them.”

Mayer cocked his head. “Did you just make that up?”

“Parts of it,” Draque said.”Anyway, the name isn’t for the benefit of our enemies; it’s for the troops. If being called a lion makes them more useful as killbots, then we call ’em a lion.”

Call: Creation must occur in the Permeable Lands.

Response: Those with the gift may only cause tiny changes in the Impermeable, but within the Permeable Lands their power is multiplied a thousandfold.

Call: It is difficult to destroy the living.

Response: The living resist destruction and alteration with every fiber of their being, a force even the most gifted can rarely overcome.

Call: It is easier to create the inanimate.

Response: The living are magnificent in their complexity. To fashion one takes considerable skill and errors will be noticed. But how often does a stick not look like a stick?

Call: It is best to specialize.

Response: Grow skillful in creating one sort of thing, that you might trade it with others.

Call: Creation lies not in the details, but the whole.

Response: Once mastery of the gift arrives, creation may result in complexity of result without complexity of input.