New Book

 This is the beginning of my new novel, the one inspired by the commenters on Sarah Hoyt's weblog, http://www.accordingtohoyt.com/">According to Hoyt.  It was a great party, and a nice free-for-all.  This novel is the payback... 

 I'm looking for a title.  I've had several come to mind, but they just don't seem right.  I'm open to suggestions.

 I've listed the table of contents to give everyone an idea of what's in the book.  I'm currently writing Chapter 11.  Several chapter titles have changed since I wrote the outline, and several more may change before I'm finished.  That's not unusual -- no outline ever survives the awakening of the characters.

 Enjoy!  

Table of Contents

Table of Contents ii

Dedication iii

Disclaimer iii

Prologue: CRASH! 1

Chapter 1: Breakout 4

Chapter 2: First Kill 19

Chapter 3: Uprising! 29

Chapter 4: Multiplication 49

Chapter 5: ...and Division 75

Chapter 6: Theft and Desertion 95

Chapter 7: Swarm! 116

Chapter 8: Growing Pains 128

Chapter 9: Feast 145

Chapter 10 . . . and Famine 164

Chapter 11: Reprieve 184

Chapter 12: Rainy Season 202

Chapter 13: Summer? 203

Chapter 14: Rescue 204

Epilogue: Found! 205

AUTHOR'S NOTES 207

ABOUT THE AUTHOR 219

Dedication

This book is dedicated:

To the memory of Ric Locke, an author whose story ended too soon;

To Sarah A. Hoyt, who has openly accepted the battle of tutoring many new authors, and helping us all in the development of our writing skills;

And finally, to Sarah's commenters on a particular thread at http://accordingtohoyt.com/>According to Hoyt

(http://accordingtohoyt.com/2012/06/23/consensual-2/) from June 23^rd, 2012. That free-for-all resulted in the idea for this book. Thank you, the members of that event. Here's the final result. I hope you enjoy the ride as we have an adventure together.

Disclaimer

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, locale, and activities are solely from the imagination of the author, and do not reflect any real people, places, or actions. Any resemblance to people, places, or things, past, present or future, is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2012, by Michael A. Weatherford and Weatherford Enterprises. All rights reserved.

Prologue: CRASH!

“What in...”

Gayle Martin picked herself up off the floor of her small second-class cabin, and started to get back into bed. She hadn't felt anything except landing on the floor. As she pulled back the thin blanket, the ship lurched a second time. She managed to put her hand out in time to keep her from being slammed head-first into the bulkhead wall.

“This isn't right,” she thought as she turned over and sat down on the bed. “Something has to be wrong. What's going on?”

“ALL PASSENGERS AND OFF-DUTY CREW, PLEASE STRAP IN FOR MANEUVERING. I REPEAT, ALL PASSENGERS AND OFF-DUTY CREW, PLEASE STRAP IN FOR MANEUVERING. PASSENGERS NOT IN THEIR STATEROOMS MUST RETURN THERE IMMEDIATELY. STAND BY FOR MANEUVERING.”

The message was repeated over and over. A shiver of fear ran up Gayle's back as she lay down on her bed and fastened the straps that would hold her in place during any maneuvering the ship would do. Frightened, she lay back on the pillow of her bed and closed her eyes.

She had no idea how long she'd lain there when she heard a blaring alarm shriek throughout the ship. Moments later, the ship began bucking and shaking, threatening to toss her from her bed once more. She reached out and tried to steady herself with her hands, but with little success.

The alarm, and the bucking and shaking, went on and on – how long, she couldn't tell. Suddenly there was a massive jolt, followed by a different shake, one that lasted for several long seconds. When the shaking ended, the ship was absolutely still.

“ALL PASSENGERS REMAIN IN YOUR STATEROOMS. REPEAT, ALL PASSENGERS REMAIN IN YOUR STATEROOMS AND STRAPPED DOWN. WE MUST DO SOME ADDITIONAL MANEUVERING. THIS MANEUVERING MAY CAUSE PERSONAL INJURY IF YOU ARE NOT FIRMLY SECURED.”

That announcement had a very different – and ominous – sound to it – different than all the others she'd heard during the five days of her current voyage, or any of the other three voyages she remembered taking. Significantly frightened, she continued to brace herself against the walls and ceiling of her sleeping booth.

What followed wasn't so much frightening as confusing. She could feel she ship moving, especially as its rear swung around as if the ship was pivoting into a parking gate. There was also a low-pitched vibration – not quite a sound, but a slight, rhythmic shaking. The shaking continued for about three minutes, then all movement stopped.

“ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS AND CREW – PREPARE TO DISEMBARK. DRESS WARMLY, AND TAKE AS MUCH OF YOUR POSSESSIONS WITH YOU AS YOU CAN CARRY. YOU MAY NOT BE ALLOWED BACK ABOARD THE SHIP TO RETRIEVE ANYTHING YOU LEAVE BEHIND. DO NOT SPEND TOO MUCH TIME PACKING, BUT TAKE EVERYTHING YOU CAN WITH YOU. YOU MAY ALSO TAKE ANY LINEN OR OTHER ITEMS FROM YOUR CABIN THAT YOU CAN CARRY. NEITHER CREW MEMBERS NOR PORTERS WILL BE AVAILABLE TO ASSIST YOU. YOU MUST DO THIS YOURSELF. PLEASE PREPARE TO EXIT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.”

Second-class passengers weren't allowed much in the way of luggage, and Gayle had little to pack. She quickly dressed and stowed everything she owned in her one small bag. She grabbed the blanket from her bed, both the clean and dirty linen from the small sanitary unit, and the tissue box from the fold-out nightstand next to her sleeping booth, and shoved everything but the blanket into her backpack with her passport and tickets. She tied the blanket around her waist, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and picked up her suitcase. She was ready to leave before the announcement had been repeated three times.

The hallway outside her small stateroom was in chaos. Many of those traveling second-class were parents with young children. The Hans, in a larger stateroom across the hall from hers, had four children. Two of them were in the hall, crying, holding tightly to their mother's hand.

“Hello, Marie,” Gayle said, kneeling down beside the two small children. “What's the matter, hon?”

Gayle didn't really know the family, but they'd seen enough of each other in the hallway, in the second-class dining facility, and elsewhere to be on speaking terms. Marie was the next-to-youngest, barely four years old, and obviously the most upset.

“Can you take her outside with you, Gayle?” Mrs. Han asked. “Tom is getting the luggage, and the two boys can handle themselves, but I could use some help.”

“Of course,” Gayle responded. “Come with me, Marie. Let's go see what all the fuss is about.”

It was hard making progress. People and luggage filled the hallway everywhere. Slowly they made their way to the main cross-hall that led to the closest passenger loading doors. Marie kept looking back to try to see her parents, but that was impossible over the mass of people.

Gayle silently led Marie through the dozens of corridors that wound through the ship toward the stairs that would lead to the ground below. Crew members were directing everyone toward the few open exits, all on the right side of the ship. Finally they arrived at the airlock.

“Here we are, Marie. Now we can see where we landed,” Gayle said as they stepped into the open airlock.

What lay beyond the doors shocked her into immobility. She had expected a terminal building and docking facilities. Instead, there were miles and miles of trees on low rolling hills, with snow-covered mountains in the near distance. The wind was cool, but not cold. The air was full of strange smells.

This was definitely not what she'd expected.