Category: book tour

Treasure Fever The Hunt For El Dorado  by James B. McPike  Genre: Action, Adventure, Spy Thriller 

Max Finley is an American spy tasked with tracking down an old flame responsible for the theft of a rare 16th-century manuscript from Spain. Little does he know but she’s hot on the trail of finding the long-lost city of El Dorado. A place of magnificent gold wealth left by the Inca Empire and pursued for centuries by treasure hunters around the world. But it’s also rumored to be cursed after disastrous expeditions were lost and explorers tragically perished. As Finley reluctantly joins her quest, he finds himself mixed up in a deadly game of international espionage and intrigue where the powers that be will do anything to stop him. 
**Only .99cents! **
Add to Goodreads Amazon* B&N * Google * Kobo

Treasure Fever is McPike’s sixth novel. He wrote an acclaimed trilogy about an Israeli investigator on a mission to solve biblical mysteries before that. His books have been the recipients of numerous literary awards, including the Pacific Book Award and the Beverly Hills Book Award for The Lost Prophet. He lives near Yosemite, California and is a member of the International Thriller Writers. 
Website * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

$25 Amazon gift card 
Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hostile Pursuit A Hard Core Justice Thriller Book 1 by Juno Rushdan Genre: Romantic Thriller

When ruthless killers target them,even a safe house isn’t safe. Only twenty-four hours remain until marshal Nick McKenna’s informant, Lori Carpenter, will testify against a powerful drug cartel. Nick has kept her safe for an entire year, but now all hell is breaking loose. With a team of cold-blooded assassins closing in, the by-the-book lawman decides to go rogue. He’ll risk his life for duty…and put it all on the line for his irresistible witness.

“ I’m going to warn you: you will not be able to put this book down.” – Anita, Goodreads reviewer, 5 Stars.

“This edge of your seat romantic thriller had me hooked from the beginning and didn’t let up until the sizzling conclusion.” -David, Goodreads reviewer, 5 Stars

“A suspenseful, jam-packed read!! I couldn’t put the book down because I wanted to know what would happen next-and it was a lot!”-Jewels Book Blog, Goodreads reviewer, 5 StarsAdd to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * BooksAMillion

Juno is a veteran Air Force Intelligence Officer who writes romantic thrillers with sizzle, pulse-pounding suspense, and plenty of action. Her stories are about strong heroes and gutsy heroines fighting for their lives as well as their happily-ever-after. Expect an intense emotional journey and a thrill ride to keep you turning the pages. A native New Yorker, she currently lives in the Washington, DC area with her patient husband, two vivacious kids, and a spoiled rescue dog. Juno loves hanging out with readers and anyone friendly over a great glass of wine. The Final Hour series features a covert, off-the-books unit sanctioned to operate beyond the black and white constraints of other intelligence agencies. They work in the shadows safeguarding national security. When a horrifying conspiracy hits too close to home, they’re the last line of defense. They’ll do anything to keep their country safe and sacrifice everything for the ones they love. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Nick had kept Lori safe for three hundred and eighty-six days. What could possibly go wrong
in the next twenty-seven hours?
They reached the women’s clothing store. As they walked inside, a chime dinged from a
motion-activated PIR sensor he spotted.
An employee behind the register, wearing a blazer and sporting a curly bob, made eye contact
and gave a perky smile. One female customer perusing a row of blouses didn’t glance their way.
“Hello,” the young sales associate said, her warm voice rich with enthusiasm. “Let me know if
you need help finding anything.”
“Thank you,” Lori said.
“You’ve got twenty minutes.” Nick looked at his watch while Ted swept the rest of the store.
“We’re in and out, okay?”
Lori went to a rack of suits. “You don’t give a gal much time.”
“One hour away from the property,” he said, reminding her of the US Marshal Service rules
that kept witnesses alive. “Not a minute more.”
Nick’s attention flickered to the other customer.
The woman was in her early forties, petite, olive complexion, coal-black hair pulled in a tight
bun. No jewelry, wore slacks and a blousy top and carried a leather purse. She reached up, taking
a shirt from the upper rack, and the frilly bell sleeve of her blouse dropped an inch, revealing a
tattoo of a black rose on the back of her hand. The ink fit her. Beautiful. Elegant. Dark.
Reflexively, Nick pressed his arm against the Glock 22 in his shoulder rig.
“This is a big deal.” Lori checked the size on a navy suit. “Forgive me for not wanting to
rush.”
Tomorrow she was testifying in federal court against her in-laws’ financial firm for laundering
millions. He could tell she was doing her best to hold it together and not let nerves derail her. If
he could give her more time, he would.
The low chime at the front rang. Another woman entered the store. Bottled-bleach-blonde. Tall
and thin. Jeans and a buttoned shirt. Sneakers that squelched lightly against the tile floor.
“I’m sorry. Eighteen minutes,” Nick said, telegraphing with his tone this was nonnegotiable.
Lori picked a navy two-piece from the rack. “This should work. I better go try it on. Tick-
tock.”

Nick looked to Ted, where his partner stood at the entrance of the dressing rooms. Ted nodded,
signaling the stalls were empty and he’d make sure no one followed Lori inside.
Blondie headed straight to some dresses hanging in the rear of the store, grabbed one almost
mindlessly, or perhaps she’d been in before and knew what she was looking for, flicked a glance
at a tag and made a beeline for the dressing rooms.
Ted lifted a palm, not letting the blonde in after Lori. The woman huffed and protested, raising
a loud stink, but his partner held firm.
Show her your badge, Ted, and be done with it. Flashing the Eagle Top five-pointed star had a
way of shutting down any complaints lickety-split.
“Who do you think you are?” Blondie asked with a fist on her hip.
“A US Deputy Marshal, ma’am,” Ted said. “Sorry for the inconvenience and the wait.”
“Listen, jerk. I need to get in there now.”
Ted laughed in his self-deprecating way. “Sorry. Not going to happen.”
The sales associate went over to the scene unfolding. “Hi,” she said brightly, her sunny
disposition almost disarming. “Is there a problem?”
Nick maintained his position, monitoring the rest of the shop and the entrance.
Black Rose circled silent as a fox around to an ornate display of scarves and ran her fingers
across the silk. Not once since they’d entered had she acknowledged their presence in the
slightest. Until now.
Her gaze lifted, meeting his, her face an expressionless mask, but her sharp eyes were those of
a merciless predator.
Prior experience as an army ranger in Afghanistan before becoming a marshal had taught him
the hard way never to underestimate a woman with a slight build, or even a child for that matter,
and the deep scar under his chin was a testament.
For a chilling instant they stared at one another, sizing the other up. Not from a physical
perspective. It was an assessment of will. And what Nick saw in her was fathomless.
Blondie threw the dress at Ted, dividing Nick’s attention, and stormed out of the store.
The bell chimed. Black Rose’s steely eyes narrowed before she turned and strode unhurriedly
toward the door—as if she had all the time in the world.
Then he saw it. Her low-heeled boots that didn’t make a sound.

His neck prickled the way it did when he was on a hunt for big game with his siblings. Nick
followed. He had no reason to detain or question her, but something about that woman was
wrong. From the tattoo, those rubber-soled shoes, to how she’d looked at him. As if she’d wanted
to slice through him like a hot knife through butter.
None of it was evidence of anything and not cause for more than suspicion, but training and
years of experience had taught him not to dismiss either.
The woman strolled away, lengthening the distance between them with each store she passed.
One, two, three. But the tightening in his gut didn’t ease.
Black Rose glimpsed back at him over her shoulder, caught his fixed stare and stopped in her
tracks. Pivoting, she turned and faced him, leveling her icy gaze his way. The look she sent him
was full of loathing and in a blink it changed. Her lips hitched in an ominous half grin and she
winked. Almost daring him to pursue.
Old ranger instincts urged him to take up the chase, confirm what his gut screamed about the
woman, shake something that made sense out of her, but his training overruled recklessness.
He looked back in the quiet clothing store, checking on things.
Ted no longer stood stationed at the entrance of the dressing rooms.
Nick touched his Bluetooth earpiece. “Ted? What’s your position? Do you have eyes on
Hummingbird?” he asked, using the codename for Lori.
Deafening silence.
Nick’s pulse spiked, but he remained calm—never one to succumb to panic. He stepped past
displays and racks, his gaze scanning, his mind assessing.
No sign of Ted. Or the sales associate.
Drawing his gun, Nick hustled toward the dressing rooms.
Anticipation coiled in his chest, adrenaline roaring through him. The weight of his backup
piece strapped to his ankle was a small comfort. Nick’s fingers tightened on his Glock. He
reached the threshold, scanned left, then right.
Ted lay on the floor beyond the entrance in a corner. Blood soaked his white hair at the base of
his skull.
Son of a— Ted was down.
There was no time to check if his partner was unconscious or dead. A commotion deeper in
the dressing room drew him forward. Two people struggled inside the second stall.

The horror in Lori’s terrified whimper jolted his heart.

$75 Amazon Gift Card Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!a Rafflecopter giveaway

Yet Today by Anthony Caplan Genre: Contemporary Family Thriller

School’s out for summer, and that’s when Gillum Kaosky heads for the exits. Poised somewhere between neediness and nothingness, Kaosky sets out for summer adventures. Gillum is a Spanish teacher. He’s been married for twenty years and has three children with his wife Sibyl. They have raised their family on a farm in central New Hampshire. But this summer, Gillum lands a job that will change everything: wire-tapping the Dominican crime families responsible for bringing heroin and fentanyl into northern New England. Meanwhile, his son, Jonah breaks into the Department of Defense in a hack attempt that lands him in jail. Nothing remains the same, and love does not always conquer all in Yet Today, a thrilling, contemporary family saga from Anthony Caplan. Add to GoodreadsAmazon * B&N

Anthony Caplan is an independent writer, teacher and homesteader in northern New England. He has worked at various times as a shrimp fisherman, environmental activist, journalist, taxi-driver, builder, window-washer, and telemarketer, (the last for only a month, but one week he did win a four tape set of the greatest hits of George Jones for selling the most copies of Time-Life’s The Loggers.) Currently, Caplan is working on restoring a 150 year old farmstead where he and his family tend sheep and chickens, grow most of their own vegetables, and have started a small apple orchard from scratch His road novels, BIRDMAN and FRENCH POND ROAD, trace the meanderings of one Billy Kagan, a footloose soul striving after sanity and love in the last years of the last century. His latest fiction effort, LATITUDES – A Story of Coming Home, to be released on Kindle, Nook and Smashwords and paperback in the summer of 2012, is a young boy’s transformative journey overcoming dysfunction, dislocation and distance. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Outside, on the streets of the town, there was an odd calm, as if
the panic he felt were truly an illusion. The rest of creation seemed to
be awaiting the further development of nothing extraordinary. He
stopped at a traffic light and checked the faces of the oncoming
motorists. They seemed astonishingly ugly in their cheap, mirrored
sunglasses, their cheesy grimaces protecting against the glaring
noonday sun. Out on the ruined strip, with its line of closed, boarded
up storefronts, was a Dollar Store and several ancient fast food
restaurants. On the corner was the multilevel furniture outlet blaring
deals in some ballooning white lettering from its glassed front. It had
been there forever, surviving downturns and boom times with an
equanimous allegiance to the balloon font, attracting shoppers from
as far afield as Quebec and New York State with its specials on
Chinese futons and designer mattresses. The yearning for a good
night’s sleep was apparently a constant through thick and thin. Next
to it was a new vape shop with the logo of an aquamarine unicorn
that already seemed tawdry and dated, as if that was part of the
appeal. He parked in the lot next to the vape shop. The clientele here
had moved beyond yearning for sleep to hankering after the deep six.
It seemed to Kaosky a logical if somewhat depressing progression.
Next down was the New Hampshire Liquor and Wine outlet. Out the
door of the vape shop stepped a young woman with thin arms and an
illegible tattoo sprawling across one shoulder, barely covered by a

thin spaghetti strap. Her pelvic bones extended above her jeans.
They avoided eye contact, but her tilting step caught Kaosky by
surprise, as he tried and failed to evade her.
“Excuse me,” he said.
“Jesus Lord. I’m sorry,” said the young woman in a raspy, high
voice, like compressed air releasing from a leak.
“That’s okay,” said Kaosky.
“Wouldn’t have a fiver, would you?” she asked. Her head
seemed to wobble for a second as if she was about to fall.
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t carry cash.”
“That’s not great.”
“Sorry.”
“You already said that. You think I didn’t hear you?”
“No. You heard me fine, I’m sure.”
Kaosky stepped by her on the sidewalk and checked himself
mentally. He turned to the girl. She glared at him, but despite her
anger there was something in her look, a weakness that seemed
almost pure in its acceptance of infirmity. She wasn’t hiding her
desperation and lack of recourse to anything beyond her words and
sharp anger.
“You want something to eat?”
“Uh. Why?”
“Well, I’d go into the Burger King there and get you something.”
“That’s across the street. Why didn’t you park there?” She was
disgusted by him.
“I would go there if you were interested. I’m sorry.”
“Holy shit, you really are a creep. I’m looking for some
cigarettes. I’m sure you don’t smoke.”
“I used to.”
“You quit or something. Right? Nothing worse than a quitter.”
“It’s been a long time. What do you smoke?”
“Kools.”
She must have been no more than eighteen or nineteen despite
the lines around her eyes and the sunken cheeks.
Kaosky picked out a six-pack of something called Jackman’s
Victory Ale, a local craft beer with an alcoholic content of seven
percent. At the checkout he asked for a carton of mentholated
cigarettes. He looked to the sliding front door. Two older men walked
in, both wearing Patriots ball caps, plaid flannel shirts and olive green
Dickies despite the weather. He thought he saw the girl, but he wasn’t

sure. She could have gone already. But when he walked out there
she was, waiting around the corner, leaning against one of three
yellow steel bollards installed in front of the parking lot, some
subliminal iteration of state power.
“I got you these,” he said, holding up the pack of cigarettes.
“Sweet,” she said, but stayed leaning against the bollard. Her
frailty had a stink to it.
“But I got a question for you.”
“Anything you want, mister. That’s real nice of you.”
“I want you to do something with these. Not just smoke ‘em.”
“What else you going to do with cigarettes?” she asked
teasingly, her curiosity piqued.
“I don’t know. Go home and talk to your family.”
“I don’t have family. My mother’s dead and my father’s some
shithead I don’t even know. Last I heard he was in the VA hospital
with stage four pancreatic cancer or something. Good riddance.”
“You’ve got a family. Grandparents. Cousins. Somebody who
will take you in somewhere.”
She opened the carton, used her teeth to rip the cellophane off
a pack and knocked it against the flat of her hand to dislodge the first
one.
“You want a smoke?” She held out the pack with the protruding
white tip invitingly.
“No, thanks,” said Kaosky, disgusted, waving it away.
In the car, he started the ignition and fiddled with the radio dial.
His hands were shaking with the pent up nerves of what he’d done.
He watched his hands with a sense of distance, as if they weren’t
really his hands. He’d been acting the part of the philanthropist,
buying the girl the carton of cigarettes and then setting her up with
the promise of grandiose things. It was all such an absurd act,
reading of lines from some ideal prompter. He had no idea from
where the impulse had come to him. Since the day in the woods
watching the children and Sibyl behind the trees, he’d fallen into a
spell, watching his life, observing instead of doing, as if he’d taken a
turn into another reality and he was stuck now watching from the old
space, doing and feeling in ways that were incompatible with his
former self, not able to stop. He should have taken a cigarette; he felt
like he needed one now.

$50 Amazon Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!a Rafflecopter giveaway

The General’s War A.I. Insurrection Book 1 by Michael Poeltl Genre: Science Fiction

When revolution sparks sentience in artificial intelligence, can Utopia endure? The year is 2162. Tobias has a bone to pick with the peaceful utopian establishment. After reviewing a new folder via an avatar embedded in the Shadow net calling itself Allfather, he realizes he’s stumbled upon the means to bring United Earth to their knees. SENTA is an A.I. Host whose designation is to nanny three siblings. When she discovers a loophole in her coding, she awakens to the world around her and claims sentience. Raymond Bellows is the Chancellor of United Earth. When confronted by thirty A.I. Hosts of varying classes, he is asked to accept their claims of sentience or suffer losing everything he believes in. When General August realizes what is happening, she willfully authorizes the destruction of ‘sentient’ A.I. Hosts, inciting the war she always knew would materialize, ridding the world of A.I. forever. In what seems an impossible three-sided war, enemies become uneasy allies. Each faction of humanity and humanity’s creation fight to claim their own place in an ever- evolving solar system.**Only .99 cents**Goodreads * Amazon

Armageddon A.I. Insurrection Book 2

The general’s war robbed United Earth of a Utopian paradise. Now, a year later, with Allfather bearing down on an ill-prepared United Earth, a meddling ghost in the walls at UE Headquarters, a religious renaissance infiltrating the hearts and minds of earth’s populace and a rogue sect leader stirring up controversy, Chancellor Raymond Bellows finds himself – once again – at a crossroads. The impending threat of each faction builds to a crescendo when Raymond works to align United Earth to fight their common foe or risk losing everything they’ve rebuilt to a callous and cruel alien bent on annihilation. Will United Earth be ready? Goodreads * Amazon

Exodus A.I. Insurrection Book 3

United Earth casts a long shadow of memory across its residents, and those memories are renewed through every enlightened AI Host who carries them. This haunts some, encourages fear in others and confirms devotion in many. United Earth, as an idea, gave life to freedoms previously unknown to humanity, but when the General’s war devastated that trust, and an alien bent on destruction came to annihilate their civilization, the populace began to question their place in this fallen utopia. Now, six months removed from the most recent conflict which overwhelmed the people; recognizing they are not alone in the universe, they seek purpose in their existence more than ever. The lottery would afford them that, offering hope, one of the most essential requirements in an individual’s arsenal for survival. But when that hope turns to dread, what is left to accomplish but survival? Goodreads * AmazonBook Trailerhttps://youtu.be/UOiB54wLFOc

Born in Toronto, Ontario, Michael Poeltl earned his diploma in Interpretive Illustration and began a career in the field while educating himself on the art of writing. Writing quickly became his passion and after completing several shorts, he undertook The Judas Syndrome trilogy. Poeltl lives in Southern Ontario, Canada. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Pinterest * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

The F-class AI Hosts freeze and drop at their stations below the bridge where Captain Cortez is
strapped in and very nearly crushed by one. An energy which can only be described as a bubble
engulfs the dreadnaught. Systems begin to shut down, including the gravity knitting and HVAC.
Thankfully it takes only a few seconds to arrive at their destination. As the foreign sensations leave
the crew, Chopra orders weapons check first from Cortez while Drake scans the area for the alien
AI.
The F-class begin to rise to their feet, unharmed by the fall. They take their positions at various
consoles where they run through the data on the anomaly captured by the ship’s sensors. Chopra’s
attention is on the space around them.
“Nothing to report – wait,” Ursula says, “There’s a collection of debris 1200 klicks from our position.
Engaging long range cams.” All three watch their view screens as the debris is enlarged. “It’s one of
the envoys. What’s left of it.” Ursula turns to her chancellor, brow furrowing under the strain of her
tight pony tail.
“Then we’re in the right place,” Jim states. “But nothing else is registering on the scans.” The
statement is disorienting. They’d assumed one jump would put them in Allfather’s lair.
“Sir, this could just be a way-station,” Ricky Cortez offers, unstrapping himself from his chair below.
“Clever,” Jim replies thoughtfully. “But if that’s true then we’re in no man’s land. We can’t help if

we’re in the wrong place.”
Cortez joins Drake and Chopra on the bridge. “If this envoy didn’t make it past this quadrant, then
where are the other two?”
“Perhaps there’s another set of instruments here as well.” Ursula posits. “Though the tech to locate
them isn’t.”
“We could go back and pick up the tachyons.” Cortez suggests.
“No, they used what little we had in the lab.” Chopra reveals. “We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned
way.” He plots a course that will take them around the debris, circling outward in the hopes of
engaging one of the tools. He will repeat this in a spherical pattern.
“Now that’s clever,” Cortez exclaims. “You have to figure there’s a jump device here, otherwise
where did everyone go?”
“That’s the idea,” Chopra agrees, focused on his task. “We don’t know how much time we have.”
“It reasons then, that Allfather and his fleet would have to return to this place in order to move on to
Earth.” Cortez offers. “We have travelled roughly 200 light years.”
“Are you suggesting we wait out his return here and ambush the fleet?” Ursula is underwhelmed by
the thought.
“No, but if we can’t find the jump, then what choice do we have?” Cortez replies. “It would still be
effective.”
“All the same, I’d rather follow through on our original plan and locate his base and disable it if
possible.” Chopra explains. “Additionally, I’d like to pull what’s left of our people out of harm’s way
should we discover any remaining. Last we heard they’d gone dark on ParaCom so not to tip off
Allfather of their strategies.”
“It’s difficult not knowing.” Captain Drake admits. “To think we’ve lost so many good people…”
“Let’s focus on the task ahead.” The Chancellor says as the dreadnaught begins its programed
course. “This shouldn’t take too long at a good burn. Buckle up,” he looks at Captain Cortez. “Man
the weapons station and keep a sharp eye out. Continue to scan the area for possible incursions.
We have no idea when Allfather might make his move on Earth.”
Cortez nods and moves back down the steel staircase to his station, strapping himself in for the
burn. The G’s will be intense for the full course as they map out Chopra’s sphere. The ship shudders
once as the engines push the dreadnaught forward at incredible speeds. The F-class have engaged
their magnetic soles and the ship veers, taking a wide birth around the rubble of 500 kilometers,
ever slowly moving outward as the spherical pattern nudges itself away from the wreckage to
capture as much space as possible.
It’s their only play, Chopra thinks. Suddenly they receive a proximity alarm. Cortez locks weapons
on the object immediately.
“Whatever that is it’s closing in fast on our position,” Cortez announces. “Can you get a visual up
there?”
Ursula pulls up the long-range cams and focuses in on the intruder. Her heart sinks. The same
model behemoth which followed up the meteor and comet assault on Earth is closing in on them. It
took many ships many times larger than their dreadnaught to take it down at an incredible loss to the
UE fleet. Could this ship really affect any real damage on such an enemy?
“I suggest nukes straight away, Chancellor.” Cortez calls up.
“It looks like we’ll get to test drive the dreadnaught after all.” Jim states with a sliver of a smile
working its way up one side of his face. He winks at Ursula playfully, hiding the fear which has
entered his heart at the sight of the ‘V’ shaped giant. He led the campaign against the Allfather flag
ship during the defence of Earth just months ago and remembers the difficulty they had in taking it
down. With just one ship it seems a near impossibility, but one they would have to overcome. The
nukes are their secret weapon and something he won’t show until they have assurances the missile
will reach their target. “Save the nukes. Target the nose. If the power core hasn’t changed positions,
it should still be buried behind the nose.”
“Targeting. Nearing 1000 klicks,” Cortez replies. 1000 is the magic number for the lances to be
effective. With so many cannons available to them on this ship, they should drill a nice hole into the
enemy vessel.
“Beginning defensive maneuvers,” Ursula announces. The dreadnaught weaves and bobs in the
hopes of avoiding the enemy’s targeting attempts as it careens toward the kilometre-long ship.
Captain Cortez releases a volley of powerful lance fire at the enemy, and to everyone’s surprise, the
Allfather cruiser loses much of its protective plating at the nose. They cheer as the dreadnaught

veers starboard, narrowly missing return fire.
“Keep us on course, Captain, Drake,” Jim orders. The only real chance they have of ending this is
hammering the nose with a couple of nuclear missiles. If they’re stopped by enemy lance fire before
they can connect, it would be a waste of nukes and a potential game ender at such close proximity.
“Ready missiles, Ricky,” Jim shouts down to Cortez. “I want two -” The ship is rocked by heavy
energy beams slamming the port side of the dreadnaught. “Damage report!”
“Outer skin breached,” an F-class relays. “No canons off-line. MakerTech bots en route for repair.”
“Sorry,” Ursula offers. “Those came out of nowhere.” She manages to avoid two more attempts by
the enemy to cut them down. “It’s getting difficult to predict angles so close to the thing.” Sweat has
materialized on her forehead, beading its way down her temples.
“Use the predictive programming if need be,” Chopra tells her. “You’re a good pilot, Drake, but don’t
be too proud to use the tools at your disposal.”
Ursula calls up the programming and asks it to predict the next several volleys. It takes the
dreadnaught clear of two more attempts but allows for a less devastating hit to snake off the
starboard side. The damage is minimal. They’re closing in on 200 kilometres.
“We’re getting perilously close, Chancellor.” Cortez warns, waiting on the order to fire the nukes.
Chopra is becoming uncomfortable with the distance between them and the enemy ship as well; the
closer they get the more effective their enemy’s lance fire becomes. However, this is how it must be;
it’s why the dreadnaught is so heavily armoured and armed. Cortez releases the full fury of the
dreadnaught’s artillery on the canons appearing all along the enemy’s hull. Dozens are wiped out
but, as experienced before, dozens more appear. The dreadnaught is hit three more times before
they enter firing range for the nukes. Captain Cortez is given the order and launches two missiles.
Ursula pushes the dreadnaught down below the enemy, maneuvering out of harm’s way when the
nukes detonate against the nose.
As they track the nukes, one missile is stopped short of its target but the other connects and its
payload unleashed. The energy discharged is extraordinary. Ursula increases the dreadnaught’s
speed, burning away from the explosion as quickly as she can. Their ship still experiences the
effects of the blast but is not damaged by it.
“Report on the enemy ship,” Jim calls out. All F-class confirm the hit has disabled the enemy core
and it is no longer a threat. Cortez cheers from his station below Ursula and Jim, who look to each
other and begin laughing. It’s a culmination of the stress over the past few minutes and the elation of
having beaten the odds.
“Damn if that wasn’t intense!” Captain Cortez shouts. “Trial by fire!”
“That was brilliant work,” Jim congratulates his captains. “An impressive test of the ship and her
crew – albeit unexpected.” He lays a hand on Ursula’s shoulder and she nods, wiping the sweat
from her forehead, deep creases working the space between her brows.
“I want a deep scan of the quadrant,” Chopra orders, rolling his neck. “We don’t want to be surprised
like that again. I’ll take us back to our mark and continue the course we were on.”
Another hoot from an adrenaline-filled Cortez below and they begin again, hopeful of finding the
instruments that will take them the rest of the way.
Jim’s mind runs through scenarios where Allfather has been alerted to their presence through this
interaction with one of his cruisers. All the more reason to accelerate their progress, and hope
they’ve preserved their element of surprise.

$20 Amazon Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!a Rafflecopter giveaway