Please welcome first time guests, Beryll and Osiris Brackhaus.
They have a new sci fi/space opera book out, Virasana Empire: Dr. Laurent Book 1: “The PV-3 Mutagen.” And there’s a giveaway!
Blurb:
As a history scholar and courier for the secretive Circle of Thales, Rene Laurent is a man of many talents – none of them lending themselves much to a life of adventure.
But when a chance meeting with a young, idealistic Belligra priest drags him into a wild quest to keep a dangerous mutagen off the streets of Floor, his curiosity gets the better of him. Between monsters both human and man-made, he realises that maybe fieldwork is more of his game than he had ever thought possible…
Written by Rainbow-Award-winning authors Beryll and Osiris Brackhaus, ‘The PV-3 Mutagen’ is a colourful non-romance sci-fi adventure set in the wildly diverse ‘Virasana Empire’, and the first novel of the ‘Doctor Laurent’ series.
Warnings: Not a romance. Harsh setting, but hopeful.
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Excerpt
Chapter 1 – Info Brokers
There were five of them. At least, five that Rene was aware of.
He had spotted the three following him when he took the escalator to the bottom floor of the mall. He had originally planned to take the tube train to Cherry Hills, but instead he turned into the access tunnel that led up to the street, trying to shake them off. Judging by the two who were now cutting him off just ahead, that had been a bad idea. The tunnel they were in was sufficiently removed from the cheap glitz of the mall to be only dimly lit, and the only other person here was a woman pushing a shopping cart, purposefully hurrying away from the developing confrontation.
A quick look around showed Rene there weren’t any convenient emergency doors he could slip through, either. He was in trouble.
At least, they didn’t seem to be professional mercenaries, just some gangers, though they moved with too much purpose to be out simply to mug him. And no ganger deserving of their colours would mug a scruffy street rat like him, anyway. To them, he had to look like he didn’t have anything worth the trouble, as much a carefully crafted facade as laziness – he liked his comfortable rags a lot, thank you very much. So what did these particular thugs want from him?
And more importantly, how to get rid of them?
He was well aware that he didn’t stand a chance against them in a fight. Combat skills were at the bottom of the list of things he was interested in. Also, the mall was too cheap to have any sort of camera surveillance. It didn’t even have security guards though Rene doubted any would have come running if they had existed. He wasn’t a valued customer, and as long as the gangers didn’t make too much of a mess, no one would care.
The best course of action seemed to be to play the helpless victim and let them rough him up a little. It wasn’t like they would manage to inflict any lasting damage, anyway.
He had come to that conclusion when one of the thugs, whom Rene mentally labelled their ‘leader’, shoved him against the wall.
Rene turned to face them, clutching the stack of folders he was carrying to his chest protectively, trying to present a credible picture of being scared. The other thugs had formed a semicircle around him and their boss. Judging by the nasty grins of his ambushers, it wasn’t very hard to fool them.
“Gimme that,” the leader snarled and grabbed the folders.
They held the weekly update on the topside situation in this sector of Floor. Nothing too important, and certainly not irreplaceable. Rene had picked them up a few minutes ago at the office of the info broker the Circle of Thales was currently employing. He congratulated himself on not yet having picked up the datacrystal with the off-planet reports from the Beetle Shack under Cherry Hills. He had planned to do that on the way back down before having a lunch of lava beetle while he was there.
He let go of the folders with a strangled whine and cowered.
“Hank’s Beehive is off-limits,” the leader sneered, “didn’t you get the memo? He is about to shut down.”
So that was what this was all about. The info broker Rene had just visited had been in a turf war with another info broker two malls down the street for a while, but apparently, things were heating up. Not something he cared to get involved in even though Hank was a decent guy. Well, make that a decent guy for Floor.
“Can’t have that idiot handing out charity, can we? Not the Floorian thing to do, eh?” The leader clearly wasn’t expecting an answer as he rammed his fist into Rene’s stomach.
The punch drove the air out of his lungs and hurt like a bitch. Or rather, it hurt for the few seconds it took his body to repair the damage. Rene crumpled to the ground in a heap. If he looked sufficiently hurt, they would hopefully leave him alone quickly. And not search him. If they tried to take his phone, he would have to do something, though he admittedly had no idea what.
“You understand me, little shit? You stay away from now on!”
“Hey! Stop that!”
A voice ringing out loud and clear in the narrow tunnel rudely interrupted the leader’s little speech.
Rene glanced up through his long hair hanging in his face and did a double-take. The tunnel leading back towards the mall was almost filled out by a tall figure in heavy, plate armour, wielding both a broadsword and a fucking tower shield so large he could completely hide behind it. The symbol on his surcoat and shield was unmistakable – Temple Belligra, the Fist of the Church. It was about the last faction Rene wanted to have get involved in this minor scuffle.
Priests were infamous for poking their noses where they didn’t belong. Luckily, they were rare on Floor. Yes, they had a few Verata, but they mostly remained inside their Fort Phosphoros Monastery. The occasional Jansahar only paid attention to the local flock who worshipped at the small shrines they kept all over the planet. Both groups were easy enough to evade for someone who didn’t need supernaturally talented people scanning them and finding out they were an unregistered psion.
But seriously, a Belligra? There were no faithful in need of protection here on Floor, mostly because there were no faithful here. Floor prided itself with being the most secular planet of the empire, and it was a reputation hard-won.
But apparently, this particular Belligra was set on rescuing him.
Excerpt 2 – Confrontation
Riccardo was prowling towards them, now, with his sword drawn, cutting quite the figure in his bulky armour. He looked like he might be able to hack the probably armoured limousines to pieces. Rene followed him at a safe distance.
The driver of the front limousine was standing next to the access console of the garage’s roller gate. He must have noticed Riccardo already, because he was staring straight at him, like a rabbit frozen in an oncoming car’s headlights.
“What are you waiting for?” An angry voice came from the open backseat window of his limousine. “Open the fucking gate and get us out of here!”
“You will not touch that console,” Riccardo commanded, his voice booming in the harsh acoustics of the garage. “Back away from the glider, get on your knees, and fold your hands behind your head.”
Riccardo was halfway across the garage from the gliders, so the driver would have had time to press the button to open the gate and hide in his armoured vehicle. Instead, he hectically looked back and forth between the approaching Belligra and the open window behind which his boss must be. He took a tentative step away from the console.
“Don’t you dare!” the voice from inside the limousine yelled, now even angrier. “I won’t just fire you, I’ll make sure you never find a job on all of Floor again, you ungrateful son of a bitch!”
Rene was beginning to see why everyone they had met so far hadn’t shown a shred of loyalty towards Mr Gutierrez, assuming that was him. The driver came to the same decision as his expression shifted from insecurity to grim resolve. He firmly stepped away from the console and the glider, got on his knees demonstratively facing away from both and folded his hands behind his head.
“Claude! Claude, you do it!” the man in the limousine screamed, “You drive the limousine!”
“Mr Gutierrez, I am not licensed to…” another shaky voice, also inside the limousine, answered.
“I don’t care! We have to…”
He was cut short as Riccardo arrived at the limousine, reached through the rear window and – judging from the choked yell – grabbed the man inside by the throat and shook him none too gently. “You’re not going anywhere!” Riccardo snarled, “You will face your crimes like an adult. You have sinned and God has sent me to exact punishment!”
Not exactly how Rene would have phrased it, but certainly impressive. If this was the man in charge, he deserved everything Riccardo was going to do to him.
The backseat window of the second limousine whirred down and a haggard woman in her fifties looked out. She was wearing her blonde bleached hair messily piled on top of her head and an expression of haunted horror on her face. “I confess!” she proclaimed loudly, “I confess everything. We have done wrong! All of us! This whole project is…”
“Shut up, Gabriella!” another female voice from inside her limousine interrupted her, “Shut the fuck up, you’re burying all of us!”
“You don’t understand!” Gabriella turned back to her colleague, “Don’t you see it? God has sent…”
“God has better things to do than…”
“Silence!” Riccardo’s thunderous voice echoed in the garage, followed by exactly that. “Everyone step out of the gliders,” Riccardo ordered at a much lower volume. “Do not resist or I swear by God, I will cut in half anyone who does.”
Gabriella yanked open the door of her glider and scrambled out so quickly, she stumbled and lost her footing, ending up on her knees. She quickly decided that it was a great position to be in and copied the driver of the first limousine, folding her hands behind her head. She was wearing a long, green lab coat. The technician by the elevator had mentioned Mr Gutierrez being in the company of scientists, so Rene guessed she was one of those. Her name tag identified her as Dr Gabriella Sanchez.
She was followed more slowly by another woman, this one in her early thirties, with perfectly coiffed, red locks, wearing too much makeup on her admittedly pretty face, and the same green lab coat. Her name tag said Dr Jada Shekyim. She looked down at Gabriella disdainfully and remained standing, studying Riccardo with an aloof expression. The limousine’s driver exited as well and calmly joined his colleague on the floor. The last one to emerge was another scientist in a lab coat, a man with obvious cybernetic enhancements to his left eye, evidenced by metal elegantly merged to skin around it and several dataports on the same side of his shaved skull. His name was Dr Silas Bisgaard. He looked mostly bored of the whole episode.
The passengers of the first limousine weren’t as cooperative. Rene had no clear view of what was going on inside, but from the sound of it there was a scuffle going on, with Riccardo holding on to – probably – Mr Gutierrez.
Then the other passenger door opened and a young man spilled out, scrambling away from the car hurriedly. Early twenties, cheap suit in last season’s style, a mop of tousled, brown hair, glasses clutched in one hand. Claude, Rene guessed, and by the look of him, Mr Gutierrez’s personal assistant. That finally stopped the struggling inside the limousine.
“Let go of me, you brute,” Mr Gutierrez grunted.
“Are you ready to obey?” Riccardo asked.
“I comply under duress.”
Why he thought that would mean anything to Riccardo, Rene had no idea. But it certainly sounded like company speak. Riccardo withdrew his hand and the door opened. Mr Gutierrez stepped out in as dignified a manner as he could under the circumstances and made a show of straightening his tailored designer suit. Around forty, carefully groomed from his slick black hair, over his thin moustache, down to his shiny, black shoes, probably made from real leather. Everything about him screamed upper management position. Not rich or powerful enough to get away with wearing whatever eccentric shit he pleased, but with enough disposable income to show off.
He glared first at Riccardo, then at the drivers, the scientists, Rene, and finally at Claude, who was coming around the glider to where Riccardo could see him.
Claude shrank from the baleful glare of his boss, but he was the only one to react.
“Mr Gutierrez,” Riccardo addressed him coldly, “you and your company have committed severe sins against the order God has given our universe by messing with his designs in ways that endanger innocents and pose incalculable risk to humanity as a whole.”
Mr Gutierrez scoffed at the accusation, but Riccardo’s phrasing gave Rene an idea. He pulled out his phone for some quick research.
“Says who?” Gutierrez confronted Riccardo, impressively unimpressed.
“The Church,” Riccardo snarled back at him.
“You have broken into our building and are threatening me and my employees with violence,” Gutierrez wasn’t backing down. At least, he was doing it from a reasonably safe distance and not getting right into Riccardo’s face. “I’m going to sue you and your Church! You will pay for this…”
“A Belligra can not be charged with forced entry, property damage, assault or manslaughter crimes when on a mission for the Temple,” Riccardo cited in turn. “I have every right to be here.”
“What? A thug like you has no right to lay a finger on me!”
Riccardo leaned in close, threatening Gutierrez with his sheer physical presence. “Go ahead. Give me a reason,” he quoted Lady Rage’s catch phrase when she was dealing with stubborn officials.
Gutierrez had obviously seen a few Lady Rage movies too, judging from the way he instantly recoiled.
“I believe he is right, Mr Gutierrez. Temple Belligra has special rights,” Claude supplied helpfully.
“That’s ludicrous!”
“If you think that is ludicrous you will like this even less,” Rene chimed in, having finally found what he had been looking for. “Imperial Decree #354.223 states that the Church, in their sacred mission, is exempt from several prosecutions, citing that, among others, Temple Belligra cannot be charged with anything concerning the actus reus of manslaughter, assault, property damage, forced entry and trespassing. Also, and I think this might be of more relevance to the matter at hand, as stated in the bannbulle ‘De sacris separatio Anima et Materia‘, the Church has banned all experimentation touching in any way the supernatural abilities of any creature, except for cases explicitly waived after church examination.“
Everyone was staring at Rene as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head, like he was now the most dangerous thing in the room, not Riccardo.
“That’s from the Fort Phosphoros netsite, by the way,” Rene added gleeful.
“Well, shit, we’re fucked,” Dr Bilsgaard commented dryly.
“Why didn’t the legal department check this beforehand?” Dr Shekyim turned on Mr Gutierrez. “You’re telling me I have invested months in this project to have it yanked from under my ass by some robed freaks?”
“I told you what we were doing was wrong,” Dr Sanchez whimpered from the floor, “That we shouldn’t mess with…”
“You scared, little bitch! What I have accomplished is unparalleled. Once we moved to human applications we could have…”
“Silence!” Riccardo bellowed again.
Author Bio
We are Beryll and Osiris Brackhaus, a couple currently living our happily ever after in the very heart of Germany, under the stern but loving surveillance of our cat.
Both of us are voracious but picky readers, we love telling stories and drinking tea, good food and the occasional violent movie. Together, we write novels of adventure and romance, hoping to share a little of our happiness with our readers.
An artist by heart, Beryll was writing stories even before she knew what letters were. As easily inspired as she is frustrated, her own work is never good enough (in her eyes). A perfectionist in the best and worst sense of the word at the same time and the driving creative force of our duo.
An entertainer and craftsman in his approach to writing, Osiris is the down-to-earth, practical part of our duo. Broadly interested in almost every subject and skill, with a sunny mood and caring personality, he strives to bring the human nature into focus of each of his stories.
Where to find the Authors
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Earth’s a dead planet, dark for thousands of years; lost for so long no one even knows where the solar system is. Her last known colony, Albion, has grown to be regional galactic power in its own right. But its drive to expand and found colonies of its own has threatened an alien race, the Maess, against whom Albion is now fighting a last-ditch battle for survival in a war that’s dragged on for generations.Taking Shield charts the missions and adventures of Shield Captain Bennet, scion of a prominent military family. Against the demands of his family’s ‘triple goddess’ of Duty, Honour and Service, is set Bennet’s relationships with lovers and family.
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Returning to duty following his long recovery from the injuries he sustained during the events recounted in Heart Scarab, Shield Captain Bennet accepts a tour of duty in Fleet as flight captain on a dreadnought. The one saving grace is that it isn’t his father’s ship—bad enough that he can’t yet return to the Shield Regiment, at least he doesn’t have the added stress of commanding former lover Fleet Lieutenant Flynn, knowing the fraternisation regulations will keep them apart.
Anna was a communications specialist for many years, working in various UK government departments on everything from marketing employment schemes to organizing conferences for 10,000 civil servants to running an internal TV service. These days, though, she is writing full time. She recently moved out of the ethnic and cultural melting pot of East London to the rather slower environs of a quiet village tucked deep in the Nottinghamshire countryside, where she lives with her husband and the Deputy Editor, aka Molly the cockerpoo.