Thursday, February 16, 2023

NEW BOOK - Karrik, Book 6 in Taxyon Space

The fates of six people hang in balance in this SciFi adventure and romance.

Karrik Kenton Tallis, Third of the Flaming Comets, endures a miserable existence in a hospice on his home planet. Unable to walk or speak more than a single word, he misses his older brothers and is unaware of their sacrifice to ensure his care. He cherishes a faint hope of recovering his health.

Karrik’s life improves when his brothers return to Rishalt with their human companions. Alarik, First of the Triad, is escorting Phoebe Wong with her brother and a mysterious alien object for an audience with Prime Jadel. The middle brother, Baswin, is traveling home with Holly and Rosie Moon. The Moon sisters are enrolled in an experimental program to train human psychics to navigate in hyperspace and relieve Earth’s governments of their onerous reliance on Warrish tripilots. Rosie, a psychic healer, desires to help Karrik despite the conflict with her duty to humanity.

But the water world of Rishalt holds many hazards, both above and beneath the waves. Can the alien treasure help the three brothers to conquer the challenges and unite with their chosen partners? Read the scintillating story of the Flaming Comet brothers to learn the answers.

Karrik is available from my Direct store at a discount HERE.

You can also pre-order with release on March 8th at most retailers BookStores.


I made a picture of the main couple, Karrik Kenton Tallis and Rosie Moon.


Chapter 1

A wounded man lay in a small room in Pucklerakt, the capital city on the Warrish planet of Rishalt. In the days after the battle, his mind revived slowly.

He lay alone.

People came and went.

They wore white robes and pleasant faces. They touched him with gentle hands. Their lips moved.

He heard sounds. Meaningless babble, interspersed with one or two words he recognized.

Memories stirred in his fuzzy mind. They called him Karrik. Was Karrik his name? He could not remember. His befuddled thoughts oozed as slowly as molasses in a maze. Words emerged at random. Remembering terror and pain, he whimpered.

Nobody answered.

The hammock rocked beneath his aching body. He stared at the curved lines on the white ceiling. Did the pattern hold a meaning?

People came to look at him. They spoke to him. Their voices were as clear and cheerful as if he were a baby.

He understood a few simple words. Often, the meaning floated into his mind long after the people had left the room.

Sometimes two of the people swung the hammock to the side and lowered him into a bath of frothy water. He liked the water bath. He could breathe more easily and his clumsy body felt lighter.

He remembered diving under green waves in a vast sea. Two others swam with him. His brothers. Had he been like them once?  

Now, he could not swim. He had lost an arm and a leg. Shame stabbed into his foggy brain. He was only half a man, less than half, because he could not utter the words beating at his mind. Drenched in misery, he groaned.

Nobody noticed. Nobody seemed to care.

He slept, woke, swallowed what they fed him, and slept again.

The monstrous mandibles clamped onto Karrik’s arm, crunching into his flesh. His battle booster blurred the pain. Bones cracked. He screamed.

And woke, panting with terror.

Just a nightmare.

He reached up to rub his bleary eyes. No hand. His right arm ended in a stump.

He groaned. It was not a nightmare, but his vivid memory of a real event. The Swarm attack that left him maimed and as helpless as a newborn. His brothers had defied their orders and run to rescue him. Where had they gone? Alarik and Baswin, the energetic First and loyal Second of the Flaming Comets?

A woman entered. She wore long white robes. A white headscarf covered her face, leaving only her eyes visible between the folds of the cloth. His nurse. One of the Pearl Sisters. They looked alike, each one distinguishable only by the color of their eyes and sound of their voices. This sister had blue eyes and a high-pitched voice.

He did not know their names. Had they ever told him? His memories had a big blank gap stretching between the crippling attack until the fuzziness of the present.

The Sister raised his head and held an object to his ear.  

“Karrik,” she said, “your brother is listening. Say hello to Brin Alarik.” 

He pondered the sister’s instruction. At length, he forced out the word, “Hello.”

A loud voice sounded at his ear, “Karrik?”

The voice plucked at his memories. Was that his brother? His First, Alarik?

The familiar voice grew even louder, “Karrik, how are you feeling?”

Karrik. His name blazed in his mind. Alarik was calling him. He struggled to create the sounds of new words in his mouth. Nothing came out. Only gasps and grunts. At last, he resorted to the same sound he had made before, a shaky, “Hello?” It was a good word and pronounced clearly. He felt proud of this new skill, even if it was inappropriate as a response to his brother’s question.

“Urish,” Alarik said. “How are you today?”

Why did Alarik sound disappointed? Did his First not understand his difficulty in creating a word? Flummoxed by his inability to answer the question, Karrik merely uttered a frustrated moan.

After an interval, Alarik said, “I’ll call again later.”

The sister said, “He is improving every day. You should see him.”

“Calm seas, Sister.” The speaker clicked into silence.

Alarik had gone.

Karrik felt bereft. Alone. Where was his brother? Neither Alarik or Baswin had visited him. Had they ever visited him? He could not remember. Not since his mind had awoken from a bleak blankness. Their absence left him confused and lonely.

He twisted onto his side, his intact hand flailing against the knotted edge of the swaying hammock. He wailed. A forlorn cry, bemoaning his losses.

“Hush.” The sister brushed his shoulder. “You are safe.”

Soothed by her gentle touch, he quietened.

She asked, “Would you like to go into the garden?” 

He forced the sounds through his lips, “Uh…Uh…ish.”

“Urish,” she completed the word for him. “Good.” She pulled the blanket off his body, eased him into a sitting position, and wrapped him in a white robe.

A second sister appeared, padding softly in her bare feet and guiding a hovercart. 

The two sisters worked together to lift him out of the hammock and into the cart.

Helpless to prevent this humiliation, he moaned and wriggled.

“Hush, Karrik,” a sister said. “Why are you fussing? You like the garden.”

Burning with shame, he sobbed. They didn’t understand. He wanted to walk instead of being bundled into a cart like a dead fish.

Don’t worry, Karrik’s life improves when his brothers arrive home.

Buy at a discount from my Webstore: HERE

Karrik is also available at other retailers: BookStores.