Sci-Fi Challenge Accepted

This will be the front cover of my 
sci-fi novel.

A few months ago, my grandson, Roman, along with my friend,
Mike, were in an intense conversation about superheroes, sci-fi comics, and movies. It’s not my bag. (When was the last time you heard, " It’s not my bag?) Yeah, I’m out of it. 

I tried to nudge my way into the conversation, but clearly it was over my head. It was gratifying to watch Roman’s and Mike’s eyes light up and sparkle at the mention of their favorites. 

Roman lent one of his comics to me. He was undoubtedly certain that once I cast my eyes on the artwork, the dialogue, and grasped the plot, I would be hooked. I read, at most, four or five pages. I’ve updated my vernacular—It’s not my vibe.

Not only have I never read a sci-fi book, but the thought of writing one seemed to me, well, a million light-years away.

I like challenges in writing. Over the years, I’ve been a part of a number of them. And they were rewarding and fun.

It came to me one day while in a conversation with Roman and Mike. Before me was a real challenge: write a science fiction novel. I announced it to them immediately, and a week later, my challenge began. 

Currently, I’m near the finish of the novel. And admittedly, it has been fun. 

There probably lies a lesson. Sometimes it’s good to challenge yourself and shake things up. Kind of like taking a different route to work or giving mushrooms a try. 

I’ve not yet decided on a title.

It appears that the novel will begin serialization on this website in late March.

The Double-Cross In Paradise; Episode 31, The Airport Dodge

This is episode thirty-one in the sixth novel of The Trace Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to  The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle. 

Trace and the driver chatted intermittently on the drive from Suva to Nida. Most of the time, Trace thought and planned. The car with the two men followed at a comfortable distance. 

He trusted Kelsey. At the same time, he held certain information from him. He didn’t want to be second-guessed by someone not thoroughly familiar with the entire situation. 

Trace wanted to confuse the men following. He had already thrown them off his trail one time and innocently showed up again. He reasoned that those following him could only surmise that losing him was an accident; otherwise, why would he suddenly appear on their radar again? Additionally, Trace wanted them to think he wasn’t really that good, just lucky. 

The drive was a good drive. Green tropical foliage hugged the road and climbed slopes and mountainsides. Palms swayed and seagulls swooned. Small houses by the side of the road became more plentiful the closer they were to Nida. Children played in the yards. Old folks sat on porches. 

“How far to the airport?” Trace asked.

“Fifteen minutes,” the driver said.

“Did I pay you enough?” Trace asked.

“Plenty,” the driver said. 

“If I may ask,” the driver said, “who and why are you being followed?”

“Bad men who are curious and want to know every move I make.”

“How do you know they’re bad?”

“Did someone pay you to get information from me?” Trace asked.

“No.”

“If asked, tell them the truth. Tell them what we talked about.”

“While I was in the prison, did you leave the car?” Trace asked.

“I drove to a gas station and got gas,” the driver said. “I went inside to use the loo.”

Trace bent down and picked up a small tape recorder. He held it forward for the driver to see. “Is this yours?”

“I don’t know what it is,” the driver said.

“It’s a tape recorder,” Trace said. “It’s voice-activated. When you pulled into traffic, leaving Suva, you had to accelerate, and it slipped out from under the seat. I turned it off.”

“What are you going to do with it?” The driver asked.

“I turned it back on and stuck it in my bag,” Trace said. “I’m going to slip it back under the seat. When you leave me off, park your cab at the airport, and get a meal. That will give the guys following me some time to retrieve it. If anybody asks, tell them the truth, I found it, and so on. I don’t want you needlessly involved in anything.”

Soon, they pulled into the airport, and Trace got out. He walked inside and up to the ticket counter.

“I’d like a one-way ticket to Port Vila,” Trace said and added, “the next flight.”

“It leaves in an hour and twenty minutes,” the male ticket agent said.

“That’s twenty-five dollars,” the agent said.

Trace handed over the money from his wallet, and the agent handed him his ticket.

“How many seats are available?” Trace asked.

“Three seats are open,” the agent said.

“I’ll buy them,” Trace said.

“You can’t sell them, you know,” the agent warned.

“Some friends are going to show up,” Trace said. “I just want to make sure there are tickets for them.”

Trace paid for the tickets and hurried to the boarding area. He sat and waited for his flight. He grabbed a newspaper. He occasionally looked from reading to notice the frustration of the men following him. Trace had purchased the tickets they could use. They looked desperate enough to fly in the luggage compartment.  

The light to Vanuatu was called. Trace stood in a short line to board and craned his neck looking back at the ticket counter. He smiled at the sight of his two followers having an animated conversation with the ticket agent. 

Several people stood nearby.

Trace cupped his hands to his mouth. “Anybody want a free ticket to Vanuatu?”

Several people held up their hands. 

Trace waved at them to come over. “I have three tickets.”

He handed tickets to the first three people.

Trace handed his ticket to the agent at the gate. He walked through the door and ducked below the windows. He duckwalked along the side of the building. When he reached the end of the building, his long strides took him to a road next to the airport’s property edge. He walked through a gate and onto a road. He continued the fast pace until he reached the bridge to Naisoso Island. He crossed the bridge and jogged to the roundabout, where he instructed Kelsey to wait.

The Double-Cross In Paradise; Episode 30, A Short Visit With Franks

This is episode thirty in the sixth novel of The Trace Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to  The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle. 

A Short Visit With Franks

The next morning, Trace had breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant. He checked out at the front desk and paid his bill. He caught a cab to the prison and paid the driver to wait.

Soon, he sat alone in the prison’s visiting room. The door opened, and Franks’s came in and sat across from him.

“It’s good to see you,” Franks said.

“And you as well,” Trace replied.

“Everything is in motion,” Franks said.

“You work fast,” Trace said.

“Things need a couple of days to brew and simmer,” Franks said. “Deals and relationships have to move quickly. One never knows when they’ll end up in the hoosegow.” Franks grinned and surveyed his surroundings. “We can’t take time to judge a man’s character or his credit report. The way we do our business, if ya don’t pay, you’re in the hospital or worse.” He chuckled. 

“And that’s why you don’t want your son wrapped up in all this?” Trace asked.

“Exactly,” Franks said. “I started out in collections. You’re waiting for calls. I’m not a muscle guy, as you can tell. But I had my ways, and I hired a couple of brutes. Next thing ya know, the guys who I worked for owed me. And I built on that.”

Trace leaned back in his chair. He wondered why Franks was telling him these things. He thought that even though he seemed to have had a change of heart, at the same time, he felt Franks was sending a warning.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Franks said.  

“I never understood why one man would want to hurt another,” Trace said. “I know there are circumstances, but to make a living at it, it baffles me.”

“It’s all around us,” Franks said. “And I thought, why not cash in on it. My casino, people come in there and lose everything. A farmer has a bad year or two, and the bank takes all his land. The banker borrows from the bank, depositors. Because he’s the banker, he gets a good rate of interest. He rents the land back to the farmer. That’s just one way. And that’s in the legitimate world. I don’t know, which is best, my way or your way?”

“It’s a compelling argument,” Trace said, “but not a moral one.”

“Let’s back away from ethics and deal with reality, if you don’t mind,” Franks said.

Trace sensed Franks becoming uncomfortable. An unusual position for Franks.

“What am I to expect when I get back to Port Vila?” Trace asked. 

“I don’t know for sure,” Franks said.

“How do these types of things usually run?” Trace asked.

“There’s no playbook, if that’s what you're asking,” Franks said. “You learn what’s expected. It’s like being in a family.”

“A very bad family,” Trace added.

“Indeed,” Franks agreed, “but that’s how things work.”

“What about me?” Trace said. “I’m unfamiliar with the ways of your world.”

“It’s not my world anymore,” Franks said sharply. 

Trace noted every muscle in Franks’ face; every eye blink, curve of the mouth, a movement of the eyebrow, the slightest twitch of any muscle. He hated to feel suspicious, but he knew it was instinctive. Franks would be watching the same thing. Trace felt he had one thing on his side; Texans play poker and they make deals on horses, hides, water, wells, land, loot, cattle, crops, canine’s and cash.

Franks puckered his lips. “You’ll do fine. Just deal like you already know what you want. Nobody will know how to read you.”

“What about you?” Trace asked. “Do you know how to read me?“

“I know a good man when I see one,” Franks said.

“I’ll take care of your son,” Trace said.

“I put him in your hands,” Franks said.

“He’s more than what you think he is,” Trace said.

“Coming from you, that means a lot.”

Trace stood. 

Franks looked up at him, surprised that he wasn’t going to stay longer.

“That’s it?” Franks said.

“You got anything more?” Trace asked.

“I guess not,” Franks replied.

“I have a plane to catch,” Trace said. 

Franks stood and shook Trace’s hand. “Have a safe flight.”

Trace nodded.

A guard opened the door, and Franks walked out. The door on the other side of the visiting room opened, and Trace walked out. 

Trace walked out of the prison. The cab pulled up, and he climbed in.

“Where to?” The driver said.

“The airport in Nadi,” Trace said.

The driver hesitated. 

Trace handed him three hundred dollars.

“It will take over three hours,” the driver said. 

“Trace looked at his watch. “My plane doesn’t leave for another five.”

The cab pulled away. Trace glanced out the rear window. He was being followed.

“Do you want me to lose them?” The driver said.

“They already know where I’m going,” Trace said. 

The Double-Cross In Paradis; Episode 29, Sneaky Pete's Actors' Guild

This is episode twenty-nine in the sixth novel of The Trace Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to  The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle. 

Sneaky Pete's Actors' Guild

Trace walked inside Sneaky Pete’s. It wasn’t crowded. It looked like all regulars. 

Pete spotted Trace and nodded to an empty seat next to two men. The bar was set up perfectly. There was room for Trace only. 

Trace walked toward the seat, thinking that Pete missed his calling; he could have been a casting director. Both men looked like they would sell their grandmothers to a dog food factory for gambling money. They were both in their thirties and dressed in leisure suits they still thought were in style. One had a heavy black mustache, and the other was bald with bushy sideburns. 

Trace sat in the empty stool next to them. He ordered a beer. In the mirror behind the bar, he watched the two men following him come in and look for a seat. The bar was full, so they sat at a table. 

Pete brought the beer to Trace.

“Are these the guys?” Trace said quietly.

“The best of the best,” Pete said. Then he looked at his waitress. “Get the table where those two gentlemen just came in.”

“Thanks, Pete,” Trace said.

“Anytime,” Pete said and walked away.

“So what do you want us to do?” The mustache said.

“We’re going to take our drinks and sit at the table next to those two guys that just came in.”

“There’s not going to be any rough stuff, is there?” The bald man said.

“No,” Trace said, “but if something should happen,” Trace said, “take off. Don’t worry about me.”

“That don’t seem right,” the bald man said.

Trace grinned. “I got Pete. But nothing’s going to happen. Those guys are following me and collecting information. I’m not supposed to know they exist.”

“Got it,” the mustache said.

“Here’s what I want you to do,” Trace said. “You are drug traffickers. We don’t mention drugs. We just say cargo or stuff. We negotiate a little. We talk quietly, but loud enough that they can make out what we are talking about. They don’t have to understand every word.”

“How long does this go on?” The mustache said.

“Five or ten minutes,” Trace said. “I’ll give you a nod when to wrap it up.”

“A hundred dollars, right?” The bald man asked.

“Yeah,” Trace said. He grabbed his billfold from his pocket. He pulled out two one-hundred-dollar bills and slid them across the bar to the two men.  

Trace turned around and looked at the barroom. There was only one empty table, the one next to the men who followed Trace. He turned back around and smiled at Pete. Trace thought, ‘Not only could he be a good casting director but a set director as well.’

“There’s an empty table,” Trace pointed with the beer in his hand.

They strolled over the the empty table and sat.

Trace leaned in toward the table, and the bald man and the mustache did the same.

“Okay,” Trace said, “let’s hash all of this out.”

They nodded.

“You guys got the goods,” Trace said, “and I got the places to deliver the goods.”

“How do we know that?” The Mustache said.

Trace thought, ‘Perfect.’ And then said, “I’ve spent two months in Vanuatu. I just haven’t been watching the sunsets.”

“So?” The bald man said. 

“So?” Trace retorted. “I’ve been setting up an operation. I have contacts.”

“How big is the competition?” The mustache asked.

“Well established,” Trace said, “but with you guys bring to the table, a partnership can be worked out. Something that will be attractive to them or us.”

“How are you going to do that?” The bald man asked.

“I have a friend who has been looking to expand,” Trace says. “He has incredible resources.”

“Do you have a number?” The mustache said. “Our boss will want numbers.”

“If it’s numbers he wants,” Trace said. “I only talk  numbers to the boss.”

“He told us if there ain’t no numbers, there ain’t no deal,” the bald man said.

“Well, there’s enough for you two to get a new wardrobe,” Trace said.

“I like what I wear,” the bald man replied indignantly.

“Well,” Trace said, “not to be offensive, but you can’t buy those types of clothes anymore, but you can have them tailor-made.”

“We have to take back a number,” the mustache said.

“That depends on how much stuff you can provide,” Trace said. “I need a number.”

“If I can arrange a partnership with people in Vanuatu,” Trace said, “I can move at least 20 kilos a month.”

“Where?!” The bald man said. “He has to go beyond Vanuatu. There’s not enough noses there for that kind of volume.”

Trace grinned and thought, ‘These guys are good. They have careers in Hollywood. Then again, this may be their real job.’

Then Trace said, “I’ve developed a place in Australia. I can’t tell you anymore.”

“Our boss will want some specifics,” the mustache said.

Trace paused and thought, ‘These guys are too good. They’ve done this before. I’m dealing with experience. This is harder than I thought, but the harder it is for me, the easier the sell is to my friends at the next table.’

“What do you need?” Trace said. 

“I can understand why you might not want to tell us where you plan on dropping the goods in Australia,” the bald man said, “but you could be hanging us out to dry. You just might take off with twenty kilos, and the next thing you know, you’re gone with our stuff. That creates a problem, a big problem all the way down the line.”

“You have to understand, I have interests to protect too,” Trace said. 

“And we need assurances,” the mustache said.

“What will provide assurances?” Trace said, “And by the way, I can walk away from this. I don’t need the business or the money. I can wait. You guys have to have a pipeline all the time. If it’s squeezed down or shut down, you’re in a hurt. You have a payroll to meet.”

The mustache glanced at the bald man, and a slight grin curled the sides of his mouth.

“Which one of you is the main guy?” Trace said. “I’m not dealing with regular guys. You two are the guys.”

The mustache reached across the table. Trace shook his hand.

“I think we just made a deal,” the mustache said. 

“I have a couple of things to take care of in Vanuatu,” Trace said. “Can we meet here two weeks from today, same time?”

“Two weeks,” the mustache said.

Trace stood and nodded to each man. He walked out the door. The cab was waiting for him. He climbed in, and it drove away. 

Trace glanced out the back window. A car followed them.