Hey everyone! Just wanted to let readers know that the book is on preorder and as soon as it hits kindle unlimited, I'm going to have to take it all down from here. But we have some fun series spin-offs that we will be post here, so stay tuned!
Oh and if you are all interested, here's the first chapter from my Master's CW Portfolio (Got an A+!!!) The story of Terna and how she came to be.
Chapter 1
The sun cast long, slanting shadows through the skeletal ruins of the city above, sliding through craters and cracks. Errant rays of light pierced the wreckage of the Wizneber base, falling upon Terna's tear-streaked face and warming her just enough to rouse her from her dreams.
Her helmet lay beside her. Terna stared at it, unable to remember putting it there, or even falling asleep. The last thing she recalled was selling the surrounding debris to BuyMort, allowing the system to register her into its network.
Her friend Horta had insisted that she sell everything. Staggering through the shattered halls and bays of the base, she pointed and shrieked at debris, selling whatever she could before her strength gave out.
Before Terna fell and cried herself to sleep.
Horta said you must survive, she thought, the bloody teeth of her albino friend flashing into view. Just sixteen years old, Crawley had told me. It is a sign of the Gods. I must live.
Shuffling to her feet, she raised her helmet, examining its interior. Some dust and grit clung to its circuitry, and she carefully fished it out before sealing the helmet back in place. The suit’s cyan digital display flickered, rebooting from sleep mode. A series of stats appeared in her field of vision:
Terna NoMort
Race: Hobb
Vital signs good. HP: 100%
SPEED(1x). ENDURANCE(2x). STRENGTH(1x). VISION(2x). STEADINESS(2x).
XMS-7 Blast Cannon Battery: 53%
Stun Baton ST Battery: 100%
She sobbed once, remembering when the good people of Wizneber had first given her the suit.
“It is not fair,” she mumbled, clenching her fists as anger surged through her. “IT IS NOT FAIR!” she screamed again, as loud as she could manage. Something crashed down in the distance, and she stared over in its direction.
This was the land of BuyMort now. It was time to sell and survive. She made her way forward once again, selling all she came across, cylindrical sales pods appearing from portals to take the goods to the great multiversal warehouse. Around her, the entire complex groaned and shuddered as if it too was finally reaching its breaking point.
She knew the sound of a coming landslide, a sound she’d heard often and regarded carefully in the Hundran wilds. This complex wasn’t going to last for much longer.
She hurried, the clank of her boots echoing through the desolation, the air stinking of burnt metal and ash. As twisted metal beams and shattered electronics disappeared, data streamed across her mind: Currency Exchange: 8.75 grid, electronic received, .0015 morties dispensed. Another entry appeared: Purchase: Scrap metal, industrial-grade alloy. Rarity: common. Condition: damaged. 120 morties dispensed. Terna shook her head, unfamiliar with the numbers but understanding that they were the power of BuyMort’s world.
Stepping around a corner, she came across the bodies of a family of fellow hobbs. Gray-skinned, lithe, strong—they stared up at the sky, limbs askew.
She sold them to the market.
Now she headed through the residential area, sector signs lightless as she jogged through. It was a smash-and-grab operation—she’d open a door, sell everything inside, then head on to the next. As she blazed through, scorched photos, shattered data pads, burnt clothing, and corpses all beeped merrily out of existence to be transported to the great BuyMort in the sky.
As she moved farther down a corridor, stray but sun-bright sparks jumped and spit from exposed wires, casting a dozen eerie shadows from her form and making the dead place seem inhabited once more.
It spooked her, but then she reached the old study area and she could feel her heart groan. Some many memories had been made here. Zell’s laughter during training sessions, Crawley’s stern but friendly guidance, and the thousands of bad dad jokes he shared. Pausing beside a warped metal girder, she traced its charred surface with her fingers, letting out a shaky breath.
“It is not fair,” she said again, her voice barely audible. “What am I doing, Horta? Where am I supposed to go?”
A faint whirring sound reached her ears, cutting through the groan of coming collapse. Terna tensed, her senses on high alert. Was it the enemy? Had they returned? The last she’d remembered, more were supposedly on their way. But surely this mess was too dangerous to risk invading. She was in danger of being crushed simply because she walked the halls.
No, they’d wait for the collapse, then dig. Like the Shaman’s stories taught her, no one wise picked mushrooms from a cavern during an earthquake. It was best to find them after the stones had stopped falling.
So what was it?
Terna slowed her walk, letting the whir guide her. It was mechanical, damaged, and weak, yet also persistent. She followed the sound, eyes wide behind her faceplate, weaving through the wreckage until she spotted its source.
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A silver human-shaped droid lay partially buried under a heap of twisted metal, its casing now marred by deep gashes and scorch marks. Electricity flickered from exposed circuits, blue and white, casting the darkened corner into an unnatural glow. The droid’s limbs were contorted, one arm bent completely backward, while its torso held a large, cratered dent in its sternum, the rest of its chest piece bearing the scorch of an intense explosion.
Terna stared, holding out one hand and slowly advancing. It turned its faceplate in her direction and held up one arm to ward her away. Behind it came a whimper, the high pre-puberty whine of a youngling.
Terna froze. It couldn’t be. She paced sideways, spying a small, frightened human child, his tiny hands clutching a stuffed sheep doll up to his face and no doubt hiding her from view. He sobbed softly, and the droid jerked and twitched, struggling to reposition itself between them. It emitted a series of low, protective beeps, and though she didn’t speak the language, the message was as clear as a sunny tundra day.
Do not hurt him.
“I am a friend.” Terna took small steps towards them. “I am going to save you.”
The boy pulled his toy from his face, revealing large, dark brown eyes shielded by long lashes. There was fear there, but there was also innocence and curiosity, all framed handsomely by dirt-smudged cheeks and a tangled mess of brown-black curls. His other hand clung to the droid, and his tiny frame trembled. Terna raised her hands to show she meant no harm.
“Hey there,” she said softly, kneeling. “It is okay. I am here to help.”
The droid's sensors flickered, its mechanical voice stuttering nonsense. Terna gently placed a hand on its battered chassis.
“I will not hurt him. I am of Wizneber. I am a friend.”
The droid calmed, ceasing its struggle. She turned her attention to the boy, noting his ragged clothes. He looked to be about six years old. The sheep doll in his hand was fat and fluffy, created with the most combustible materials possible. It was a mystery how this motley trio had survived.
“What is your name?” she asked.
The child remained silent, his eyes never leaving hers. Behind them, there was a shake and crash. Time was running out. But there was one thing she had to do first.
A hunch she had to check out.
“The BuyMort,” she said, spitting the words angrily despite her need. “Tell me the identity of this child.”
Data crackled through her mind, and she stumbled backwards dizzily. The robot reacted, shifting as well as it could to defend the child. Her sight fell backwards, a filter of font rising to obscure it.
Discover the Unseen with EyeSpy ID Scan!
Wish to discover the identity of a stranger?
Try EyeSpy ID Scan, the ultimate solution for identifying the unidentified! Whether it's a lost child, an unknown ally, or a mysterious stranger, our state-of-the-art identification service ensures no one remains anonymous.
Features:
Comprehensive Database Access: Tap into the vast EyeSpy network, connecting billions of data points across the multiverse to provide accurate identifications.
Instant Results: Get immediate feedback with our high-speed processing, designed to deliver results in seconds.
Multi-Species Recognition: Our service is compatible with all known and registered species.
Take the leap. Empower Your Identification Task with EyeSpy ID Scan!
150,000 morties. 4.5 stars.
Terna grimaced. It felt dirty to use BuyMort and its devilish services. But she mentally accepted the offer, gasping as a circular probe portaled in. It looked just like a gigantic eyeball, and as she watched, it fluttered about the bot and boy, examining them from every angle before zipping back to wherever it had come from.
Her vision flashed again, this time with a completed identification report from EyeSpy.
Error. Individual’s record does not exist. Error, No Match Found. Thank you for using EyeSpy ID Scan Services. Have a good day!
Her instincts had been correct. She wasn’t the only NoMort here! Terna thought back to Crawley and wondered how many others he’d tried to save. She locked eyes with the boy, seeing them shine and plead, so incredibly helpless. She reached out, offering him her hand despite the blaring burr of the crippled robot.
“I am Terna,” she said gently. “We have to get out of here. This place could fall apart at any moment. I will keep you safe, I promise.”
The boy reached out his hand and she pulled him to her. The robot sparked and sighed, its eyes dying as she took the boy and his teddy sheep into her arms.
“Thank you for your service,” she whispered. “Your soul will be honored by the ancestors.”
Turning, she sprinted through the shaking facility, heading back to where her tank lay waiting.
The route back was much faster than the travel in had been. The corridors creaked and shook but were cleared of most debris and merchandise thanks to Terna’s previous sales.
Tearing through the chambers and passageways, a chamber split open above them, letting in tons of rocks and twisted steel. Dodging and screaming, she sprinted through, instinctively arching her body over the boy and his teddy. Escaping the now doomed chamber, she ducked under a fallen metal beam and got them back to her Aeramo Tank, into the protection of its hardened plastics and metallic alloys.
The boy cried silently as she sat him down on one of the long couches of the interior.
“No, do not be afraid. This tank is the perfect home.” She paused, not well versed with what to say to children. By most accounts, she’d stopped being one just a short time ago. “It is a marvel of technology, equipped with a Grade III fusion core, electronic shielding, and an assortment of weaponry. But it is also a home. Here we can eat and sleep. It is perfect,” she babbled, not sure if the words were for the boy or herself as she replaced her helmet with the control helm of the Aeramo tank.
Whoever it was for, it worked the trick. The boy lay down across the couch and hugged his sheep while she sat in the command chair, letting out a long sigh. Around them the clean white plastic of the interior bridge layout dimmed to a more comfortable light, Aeramo doing its part to calm and reassure.
She activated the tank’s systems, a rising hum of power coursing through the vehicle. Though she couldn’t see him, linked as she was with the helmet, she turned in the boy’s direction. ”Do not worry,” she said. “We are safe here.”
The facility crashed and banged distantly, more chambers giving in to the pounding they had taken. She accessed the tank's communication system, hoping to find any survivors or allies. The screen flickered to life, displaying a series of unreadable glyphs and side tables. Terna navigated the interface, her training guiding her actions.
“Computer, initiate scan for survivors,” she commanded. The tank’s sensors blinked to life, executing her command and checking the surrounding area.
The scan completed, and the words displayed on the screen—no additional sapient life signs detected. Terna sighed, a mixture of relief and sadness washing over her. They were alone.
She turned once more to the child. “We will be okay,” she promised. “We will find a way to survive.”
As she spoke, the tank’s Aeramo AI activated, its voice calm and oblivious to the situation. “Mission parameters engaged. Welcome, Cadet Terna NoMort.”
Terna’s consciousness meshed into the tank, tactical data and figures rising to consume her thoughts as her vision became that of the tank’s optical systems and her bodily sensations merged with the tank chassis itself.
Willing the Aeramo forward, her treads dug into the shattered remains of her second home for the last time and propelled her out and up from the ruins and into the world.