City of Bones: Order of Ghosts Saga Book 2

Once he was a thief, now a slave bent on revenge. 

Nothing is at it seems. Nothing happens the way he thought it would. Felix the Ghost is now the Grand Master of the Order of Ghosts. He is ordered to the City of Bones, to hunt down lost artifacts from the Chaos Times while being hunted by the Twins of Death. 

In order to gain the freedom he hungers for, Felix must complete this mission for his God. To go home and end the wrath of the vicious Duke who continues to enslave others, there is no such thing as failure. However, with the Twins of Death it leaves the question of—who is the hunter or the hunted? And can Felix survive this time? 

If you thirst for painful magic, gruelling fights, and revenge, then you will love this action-packed story written by Nathan Pedde. 

Grab a copy of City of Bones today.

Chapter One Preview


Thempta floated in nothingness. She looked to her left and to her right. Yet, she saw nothing but blackness. She tried to move and to swim through the vacuum. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t move. Thempta looked down, and she couldn’t see her arms. Worse yet, she couldn’t feel them.

Is this what it is like to be dead? Thempta thought. I was hoping the afterlife was going to be different than this.

She didn’t know how long she floated in the nothingness, running the thoughts of the past few weeks through her head. Her grandmother and family would all be dead. Either by the Talabaers or by High-Prince Maliok due to her own failure. It was the price of the contract that her grandmother made with Maliok. She was to serve him and be under his command. In exchange, she would get protection from their enemies.

It wasn’t until later did they find out the bastard wasn’t good on his word. However, it was too late. He had some psychopathic Malicros Mages working for him, which meant they could never betray him.

In the distance, a single white dot appeared. She looked at the growing white light and pondered what it was. It brought her attention back to her, bodiless, floating self. It grew more extensive as it filled her field of vision.

The pure white pushed back the endless nothingness she floated in, a stark contrast to the darkness which filled her vision a moment before.

Was it a moment? How long has it been? A minute? A year? If I’m dead, does it matter?

The black nothingness was pushed back and turned into a single dot that disappeared into the distance.

“Are you done feeling sorry for yourself,” a voice boomed behind her.

Thempta turned around, and a giant man stood upside down in front of her. His head was at her height, and his feet stretched out into the distance. He was taller than she could tell.

A God, Thempta thought. What do I do? Prostrate? Bow? Stand straight?

She attempted to prostrate herself but found she couldn’t move.

“Calm down,” the God said. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“You are—”

“I’m a God, but not the one you think I am,” the God said. “You can call me Mr. Magician. A future friend of yours does.”

“Mr. Magician. Oh, Lord God,” Thempta said. “Am I dead?”

“No,” Mr. Magician said. “But you’re close to it.”

“Then what is this place?” Thempta said.

“You’re full of questions.”

“Apologies. Oh, Lord—”

“Shut it and listen.”

Thempta found she had lost the ability to speak.

“The darkness you saw was the corruption from the Evil One,” Mr. Magician said, “I’ve stolen you from him, and you’re now my servant. I’ve also taken your corrupted Rune away from you.”

She tried to speak, but still nothing came out.

“Right.” Mr. Magician waved his hand.

“Your servant?” Thempta said.

“Yes,” Mr. Magician said. “You do have free choice, but if you aren’t my servant, then you are his. Honestly, the term stealing is stretching it. He discarded you like an old shirt.”

Thempta took a deep breath as she controlled her thoughts. Do I have a choice?

“No,” Mr. Magician said.

“What am I?” Thempta asked.

“You’re no longer a mage of Malicros,” Mr. Magician said.

“Am I a Talabaer?”


Thempta was silent. If I am not a Malicros or a Talabaer, then what am I?

“You are a new thing,” Mr. Magician said.

“You can read my mind?”

“I’m a God.”

“What do you command of me?” Thempta asked.

Am image appeared in front of her, it was of the bastard Talabaer, the Ghost. The one who had defeated her not a moment before. Thempta involuntarily hissed at the image. If she had arms, she would be trying to strangle him.

“Good thing this is the space of time between two heartbeats,” Mr. Magician said. “Cause you’re going to stay here until you change your mind. The reasoning is that he’s now your boss, not that he knows it. Yet.”

“Boss? Wait. Time between two heartbeats?”

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Magician said. “You’ll remember every moment of this but won’t be able to speak a word about it to anyone.”

Thempta looked down, away from the image, but the image moved with her. It was like it was glued to her eyesight.

“Question for you,” Mr. Magician asked. “How long is it going to take to change your mind?”


Palma, the ex Talabaer, sat in the shade of a hillside, tired and hurt. She had no idea how Felix, the imbecile, had so much power. Even after she had managed to blind him. A stream of black smoke drifted into the sky above her.

Like all Talabaers and Malicros Mages, she was bald. Her olive-colored scalp was sunburnt and red. Her tattered, once white, robes lay by her feet. She wore nothing but a loincloth. Her tattoos glowed slightly in the shade.

She held a semi-clean shirt, which would be sleeveless and loose-fitting. She should be able to fit her arms inside her blouse to activate her runes.

Palma the Iron-Maiden. Or will the records call me as Palma the Traitor, Palma thought. If there’s anyone able to write it down.

She had betrayed her master, High-Prince Muphaeso. A few years before, she had been approached by her new master, High-Prince Maliok. She was offered money, power, and freedom if she served him for a year. She still had six years of servitude with Muphaeso.

For years she had been one of Muphaeso’s most-trusted Lieutenants. She was second only to him in the terms of Rank and Power. However, for all the years that she put in, she was never allowed to know the High-Prince’s mind and was kept at arm’s length.

Then the fool Felix came in and changed everything. She was still furious. She had been demoted to number three. Felix was given exclusive training with the High-Prince, and she was denied the same privilege. She was mad she wasn’t allowed into the inner circle.

Palma had betrayed her High-Prince and had let the Malicros Mages into the underground tunnels. Felix was blinded, but the fool was still able to fight. She had no idea how, but she had to admit that it was amazing to watch. If she wasn’t on the receiving end.

Around her were a dozen Mages of Malicros, some soldiers of Maliok, and her fellow Talabaer traitors. Not all could use magic, but of those who could, none of them were as powerful as she was.

There was a commotion from the top of a hill out of sight. A soldier, who wore Maliok’s garb and armor, slid down the path.

“Mistress Palma. Is this all who are left?” the woman asked.

“What does it look like?” Palma asked.

Palma didn’t let her answer the question. “Will you listen to me now?”

The woman opened her mouth to reply but was pushed aside by a bald Malicros. He stood shorter than the soldier, but he looked to be no older than fifteen. The kid was as tall as Palma and the muscles on his arms rippled. The boy was of the second rank.

“Why the hell should I listen to a Talabaer whore like you?” the kid yelled.

Before the boy could react, Palma activated her water rune.

“Fysalida-nerou,” Palma said, casting a spell.

A bucket’s worth of water flew at him and the fifteen-year-old was engulfed in the water bubble, which covered him from head to toe. Palma saw him thrash and kick in the water as he attempted to free himself.

“I’m now in charge,” Palma yelled. “You lot will listen to me. Do you agree?”

The soldier and mages nodded.

“Good,” Palma said before she looked at the boy in the bubble of water. “Puddles, will you listen to me, or shall I let you drown?”

The boy nodded.

“Are you sure?” Palma asked, “Because I can kill you by more violent means.”

The boy nodded with his hands clasped together in a prayer motion.

Palma deactivated the rune. The water poured from the boy to the ground and ran down the dry desert. Puddles, the boy, gasped for breath.

“Congratulations,” Palma said. “You get to live for another day.”

“Palma,” a familiar voice said from the side of the hill.

Palma turned and glanced at the person who spoke. Arlon stood by a large rock, in a dirty, ripped Talabaer robe.

Arlon had been the first recruit of Palma’s and the first to express interest in jumping ship. He was the one Talabaer who was trained to inscribe tattoos. As such, he knew the powers of each Talabaer.

“Do you have any word about what’s happening in the village?” Palma asked.

“The spies report they’re rebuilding the village,” Arlon replied.

“And the Fort?”

“It’s a crater,” Arlon said. “Whatever Felix did won’t be repaired anytime soon. If at all.”

Palma turned to the female Maliok soldier.

“You,” Palma said. “What’s your name?”

“Veroni,” she replied.

“Did you get a good look at the Fort?”

“No, Mistress,” Veroni said. “We’re too far away, and a hill blocks the view.”

“Just that cloud of black smoke,” Palma said. “Great.”

Palma looked at the soldiers and Mages who stood with her. The group looked beat up. The fight had been a close thing. Yet, they had lost, and they knew it. All of them had lost brothers and friends in the battle.

“Listen,” Palma said. “I know we’re hurting. It was supposed to be an easy fight, but it didn’t turn out that way. If you want to get revenge and kill those who killed your friends— our friends, to hold your heads high. Especially when we see High-Prince Maliok next, then you need to follow me. Cause I have a plan. Who’s with me?”

The soldiers nodded with agreement, even Puddles.


Primus Laelius Capito leaned against the mast of the quinquereme Imperial Legacy. The five rows of oars churned the water and pushed it rapidly through the water. The highly trained sailors of the Imperial Navy knew their job and knew it well.

He looked across the bay at the glittering city of Daedius, Ta’arqa capital city. The white limestone walls glowed in the sunlight, especially in the setting sun. It acted as a beacon to all ships passing by. They weren’t sailing to the city today but were sailing away from it.

Laelius wore his light tunic and pants which were especially well suited for time out of combat and at the sea. It was the uniform of an off-duty legionnaire. The shoulders of his tunic were marked with an eagle, a sign of his high rank. It separated him from the rank and file of his men.

The trip from Aurre had been long and stressful. The salt air had wreaked havoc on the state of his bronze armor. Within a week, it had turned a shade of green in places. Laelius had spent all his available free time to pick the corrosion from the nooks and crannies applying oil to protect the armor. He had to be the example for the rest of his men.

Below decks were two hundred legionnaires under his command, First Century. Double the strength of the standard hundred men unit of his cohort.

“Primus,” Ambassador Maximus Kaesear said, stepping on deck behind Laelius.

The ambassador was a larger man with broad shoulders built up from a lifetime leading his legions. However, a gut revealed he had spent the last half-decade avoiding anything physical. He wore a similar tunic and pants as Laelius did but wore a purple sash across his shoulder to signify his birth rank as a member of the royal family.

Kaesear carried two glasses of beer. As the ambassador approached, he handed Laelius a cup, slamming it into his chest.

“Drink,” Kaesear said. “You need to smile more. It’ll help.”

“Sir, may I ask a question?” Laelius asked.

“Of course. I’m always open to questions,” Kaesear replied.

“With the High-King—”

“He’s not the High-King,” Kaesear said. “Not yet, at least. He needs to hold onto the crown.”

“With him rejecting our offer,” Laelius said, “is it wise to go to his brother?”

“The question is not whether it is wise to go to his brother,” Kaesear said, “but is it wise not to. We need support and trade from the Ta’arqians. We need to keep their exotic goods flowing to Aurre. The coming civil war will be exactly what we need to do just that.”

Laelius realized he asked a question a mile higher than his rank allowed. He was glad he asked it in private over a cup of beer.

“Yes, sir,” Laelius said. “Forget that I said anything.”

Kaesear waved away Laelius’s comment, “There’s nothing to apologize about. You’re my right hand. You, dear boy, are going places. You have to stick with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Laelius said, a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Join me for an early supper,” Kaesear said, “and we can go over the plan. I have much to tell you.”

Traitor: Agent O’Neal Saga Book Three

Here is book three of the saga up for your reading pleasure. At the moment, the Saga is complete.

Desperate times call for desperate measures – except what happens when those who are desperate is the enemy?

Rumors abound of a mole in his midst. Everywhere Des O’Neal turns, the enemy arises to thwart him. And with the enemy moving to dominate the station and kill civilians, Des is hard pressed to keep those he loves, safe.

The enemy is backed into a corner and nowhere near being defeated. Like a wounded lion, this aggressor is more dangerous than ever and this lion has an army.

Can Des rise to defeat the enemy or will he fail before he ever began? If you like Space Opera and Spy Thrillers, then you will love this action-packed adventure.

Grab a copy of Traitor today!

Chapter One Preview.

Amy Pond floated in the station-net of the Jov 1-H colony station. She wasn’t human, but a K class AI who had been gifted her freedom. Amy belonged to herself, allowing her to think about what she wanted to do and not just the task at hand.
She floated passed the avatars of different users. They were all humans sitting at a terminal in the real, non-Station-net world.
Amy sped past school-aged kids watching cat videos or talking with their friends. None of them saw the Station-net like she did. They saw the page and would hop from page to page. No human user saw the parts in between the different net-sites.
This was the boring parts either requiring a cybernetic implant on the human’s spine or a headset. It was also dull to the goldfish-attention-spanned humans.
Amy scanned through different channels and pages. She had access to a dozen different pages from around the net. Amy followed a few human avatars. They were people she had a specific interest in as she was spying on them.
Which was okay in her mind. She was a spy. It was her employment or task. She had permission to hunt through the private data of ordinary people if she had a logical reason to do so. The limit was severe in nature with the threat of deletion if she went against her limits.
If she could find the bad guy with the alias of Dr. Marcus Oraelius, then Des could go and get him. She wanted to stop anything terrible from happening to him or the station.
Two weeks had gone by since Des, Elsie, and herself thwarted but not stopped Oraelius’s plans. In the collapse of her old factory, they hadn’t caught anyone important. Those who were under the rubble of the ceiling had been killed.
Amy had no idea what the plans of this Oraelius person was or how to stop him. It’s like the station was infested with a virus with a multi-lateral hiding program. The infestation affected other parts of the system. She could cut and remove portions of the programming, but not find the core virus.
She tried to explain to Des how she saw things, except he hadn’t comprehended what she was talking about. Des’s older brother, Sheemo, understood.
Amy scanned the browsing history of a high school kid. He had been chatting a whole bunch about the entire long-range missile attack on the station. He was convinced it was a conspiracy by the station Commandant. She concluded the kid was harmless and bored.
She moved to another window. The woman was sixty years old and was searching for a cure to her arthritis that didn’t involve surgery or ingesting giant pills. She had stopped on a video of the market attack involving Des, Elsie, and the robots. Amy hacked all twelve of her windows closed.
Amy was pissed. It was the digital equivalent of throwing the tablet across the room. None of the leads she was watching panned out. They were ordinary people with no affiliation to anyone worth of note. Information on the Station-net was vast and led people’s attention to wander, usually when things said, “Conspiracy,” or “Cat video.”
Humans and their love of cats, Amy thought.
She knew talking to herself was a form of insanity, like trying the same thing repeatedly in the hopes of different results. However, it was in her nature to do so. Amy was confident being in sleep mode for a few hundred years had done some things to her programming.
Her consciousness was a mega-program loaded in a single piece of hardware. In her case, her chassis. Her surfing the Station-net was her loading her consciousness into the net. The act split her mind from her body. It reminded her of an ancient movie where an AI had taken over the planet earth and loaded all the human’s minds into a computer program. Except to make the example correct, she would have to be a human, which was a lousy pathway for an AI to follow.
The last thing an AI needed in her programming was cognitive dissonance or being of two minds about something. Amy understood humans did it all the time. Their programming was better than even hers and could handle the paradoxes.
Amy couldn’t handle the split. It’s what caused AIs to go crazy in the past. The history of humans in space was filled with AI disasters where some AI went mad and tried to kill all humans.
She scanned the different windows, seeing if any of the nearby human avatars was doing anything noteworthy to spy on. Then she saw it. Off to one side, she saw a faint glimmer. A single light of an avatar. It was one of many avatars streaming around, except this one was different. Most avatars zipped by to the next page. This one hovered in space as if whoever it was could see her. Thoughts whirled through her programming, none of them positive.
“Hello,” Amy said.
The avatar blinked out. The user either logged out or had gone incognito. Amy wasn’t sure which, but it left a faint coded afterimage.
Amy zipped through the space toward it. She needed to get closer to the image for her to see what or who it was. Amy neared the fading image, getting close to see the picture, but not the code. It was the code she was interested in. Images could be changed over and over. They meant nothing to her.
She neared the fading code, but most of it was illegible. She saw a faint portion of it, which she recognized the coding. It was of similar design to herself. Amy saved the image of it and logged out.
Ones and zeros flew past her vision as she zipped out of the net. There was always a chance a bug could trap her in the net. She had no intention of being lost in the Station-net. Being in sleep mode for a few hundred years was long enough.
Amy’s consciousness flew into her chassis with a digital thud.

Enlisted: Agent O’Neal Saga Book One

War reaches every corner – even the far reaches of Jupiter.

The orbital colony station, Jov 1-H, fighting for independence and freedom from Earth, is home to thousands of people. Sixteen-year-old Des O’Neal is thrust into a world he desired not to be in – spies, plots and trickery abound when a saboteur attempts to destroy the station.

Enraged by the attack on his home, Des charges in head first. He fights an unknown enemy who knows more about him, than he knows. No one can be trusted – even Des’s own brother.

How far will Des go to save his brother and his own life? If you like Space Opera and Spy Thrillers, then you will love this action-packed adventure.

Grab a copy of Enlisted today!

Free Chapter

Please enjoy Chapter One for your reading pleasure. Remember to head over to Amazon to purchase your copy today.

Chapter 1

Des O’Neal walked through the darkened corridors of the Undercroft of the Jovian 1-H Space Station. The poorly lit metal corridors smelled like wet, dirty socks.

Even with the pungent odor, it reminded Des he was lucky to live where he did. He didn’t live in some habitat on some planet or moon. He didn’t breathe recycled air, nor was he being forced to stare at nothing but steel bulkheads and vidscreens showing images of greenery he would never experience. Des lived in the middle of a spinning space station, which had been compared to a giant spinning park. It was better than the moon of Europa.

Europa, being terraformed over a hundred years before, thawed with the thickening atmosphere. The settlements built into the ice sunk to the bottom of the sea. There was more liquid water on the tiny moon than on the planet Earth. Tall towers stretched up from the ocean floor to the surface on Europa. Only the rich, and influential managed to live anywhere near the surface. They were the only ones who had any chance of having any type of fresh air. Everything else on Europa was recycled.

Des’s family weren’t rich, nor influential. His brother and himself lived with their father, who had been a mechanic on Europa, while his mother was an engineer on an interplanetary cargo vessel. They lived under the surface of the moon-wide ocean. He hadn’t seen real sunlight until after his tenth birthday.

On this station, Des was happier, as happy as can be expected considering the events which facilitated his move. Some of the air was still recycled, and the daylight manufactured, but he had green grass to run in and fields to explore.

Of course, he spent most of his free time crawling underground in the Undercroft. It reminded him of Europa in some ways.

Des moved out of the tight space he squeezed himself into and put his recorder away in his pocket. He looked around to see if he had been seen by anyone.

“Des,” Elsie Dagg called out from a nearby corridor. “Where in the system have you gotten to now?”

Elsie walked out from the corridor. She was a girl from Des’s class in school and one of his better friends. Elsie was a year older than Des’s sixteen. Despite the age difference, Des was tall and skinny for his age. Most people didn’t know he was the younger of the pair. He swore he was taller than Elsie was, but the amount was less than a finger width and seemed to disappear depending on the shoes she wore.

He looked over to Elsie as she approached. She was still in her school uniform, a knee length skirt, standard white button-up shirt, a blue tie, and the blue colored school jacket. Her jacket fitted the curves of her teenage body. She had taken the time to adjust the jacket’s fit properly.

Des was dressed much the same. Instead of wearing a skirt, he wore a pair of blue pants. His jacket didn’t fit and was looser than he would’ve liked. Not that he thought a guy could get a jacket to fit him.

Elsie carried a flashlight, shining the light into his eyes. “There you are, you fool.”

“Stop that,” Des replied.

Elsie lowered her flashlight, “Sorry.”

“No worries,” Des said, his eyes adjusting back to the darkness. “I told you I was going this way.” He pointed a finger where she had walked from, “And that way was going to be harder to get through.”

“Harder?” Elsie said. “It wasn’t hard.”

“You ripped your jacket,” Des said, putting his finger in the hole, “Again.”

“Oh, no,” Elsie said. “My mom is going to space me.”

“No, she isn’t. She’ll scold you and maybe take away something, but she won’t force you out an airlock.”

“It’s a figure of speech.” Elsie rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”

“Where’s Fillip?” Des said, “I thought you were gonna bring him this time.”

“He’s cowering by the entrance. He said we shouldn’t be in here because it’s for ‘authorized personnel only.’”

“Flat Lander.”

“You shouldn’t call people that.”

“Why not?”

“Cause it’s rude and inaccurate,” Elsie said. “Planets and moons aren’t flat, and unlike a certain person who insists on breaking the rules. We were born here.”


“How much longer are we going to explore this blasted place” Elsie asked, “I’m getting hungry, we should get to the Diner. I could use a burger.”

“Doesn’t your family not eat meat?”

“They don’t, but I do.”

Des jumped. A red light flashed on in the middle of the corridor. The whine of a siren echoed down the dusty metallic hallway. To Des, the siren sounded weird, like something in the speaker was broken. For a moment, Des was unsure what the alarm was for.

“Ah… They’ve caught us. We need to get out of here.” Panic raising into her voice.

“Calm down,” Des said, “It’s an evacuation alarm.”

A voice echoed down the corridor from the alarm came.

“Level four alert,” the Emergency Voice said from the speakers, “All civilians please evacuate to the nearest shelter. All Emergency Personnel, please report to your duty stations.”

The voice then repeated itself endlessly.

“Calm down?” Elsie cried, “We are under attack. I don’t want to die.”

“We aren’t going to die,” Des said, attempting to reason.

“Where’s the closest exit?” Elsie panicked. “We need to get to a shelter, or we’ll get into even more trouble than just being in the Undercroft.”

Des grabbed her hand, bolting down the nearest corridor. “This way,” Des shouted.

He was sure it was the best way out. He had been through this area before. In the Undercroft, every sector was the same.

He bumped into a wall. A pile of dust and debris fell from the ceiling. Des ran down the corridor, dragging Elsie with him. He took little time to dodge the obstacles in his way, jumping over pieces of disconnected and abandoned pipes. His school shoes barely gripped on the steel floor.

“Slow down,” Elsie shouted. “I can’t keep up.”

The station shook violently. Des lost his footing, tumbling to the ground in a heap. Elsie, still holding onto his hand, tripped on Des’s flailing feet, landing on his chest.

Wind escaped from his lungs. He tried to suck air back in, finding it difficult.

“Are you okay?” Elsie asked.

“Yes,” Des choked, “but you’re heavier than you look.”

Elsie punched his shoulder. “Meany,” Elsie growled, getting off Des.

Des and Elsie followed the corridor to the nearby exit. The amount of debris in the passages increased the further they walked, forcing them to take a slower pace. Des felt confident this corridor was emptier the last time he had walked through it.

“Is this the same exit we came in at?” Elsie asked. “I’m completely turned around.”

“It is,” Des confirmed, “We should come out near the central market in the Teal Sector.”

Des slammed into the door. It was stiffer than he remembered. He shouldered the door a second time. It flew open. Des and Elsie bolted out into the station. The bright light of the station blinded them for a brief moment.


Des slid to a stop, exiting the door to the Undercroft. He wasn’t in the residential Teal Sector. He was in the middle of a farming sector. Fields stretched out around him. The golden wheat glowed in the artificial sunlight.

He looked to his left and his right. The inside of the station stretched up in a distinct curve. Des thought of the station as a giant, stretched-out donut with the center filled in. People lived inside the ‘donut,’ on its edge under the crust.

“Look who’s the flatlander that got us lost,” Elsie said.

“We’re not lost,” Des said. “We’re in the middle of the Ruby Sector.”

“We’re supposed to be in the Teal Sector, over there,” Elsie said, pointing up.

Along the inside curve of the station, Des could see the houses and businesses of the Teal Sector. Des thought he could make out his brother’s school in the very center of it. It was the tallest building in the sector.

The station shook violently. Des scrambled to keep his footing. He grabbed hold of Elsie.

“We need to get to the Teal Sector,” Elsie said. “If this station breaks apart, I don’t want to be with a bunch of strangers. I want to be with my family.”

“No time,” Des said. “We need to get to a shelter.”

Des and Elsie ran down the dirt road, passing trees and flowers. The birds in the trees sang without a care for the problems of humankind. Up ahead of them was a small group of buildings. Des assumed it must be the barns and storage buildings used by the farms.

“There will be a shelter in one of those buildings,” Des yelled.

Des ran ahead, and Elsie followed trying hard to keep up.

“Wait up,” Elsie called out from behind.

Des reached the buildings and turned a corner. High up on a wall, with its chipped paint was a sign with an arrow said: Crimson Sector Shelter 104-2A.

“Elsie,” Des called, “this way.”

Elsie caught up with him, heaving for breath, and leaned against the wall.

“This is ridiculous,” Elsie said exasperated.

“You should run more in Gym Class,” Des said. “Train more.”

“You be quiet.” Elsie said, then after a moment. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Des and Elsie ran down the dirt road along the different buildings. In a small corner was a big sign reading: Crimson Sector Shelter 104-2A. Full. Please go to Crimson Sector Shelter 104-2B.

“First you get us lost,” Elsie said, “then when the station is about to get blown up, the shelter is full.”

The voice echoed from a speaker on the top of a building.

“Level four alert,” the Emergency Voice said, “All civilians please evacuate to the nearest shelter. All Emergency Personnel, please report to your duty stations.”

Des looked around amongst the cluster of buildings. In between the different maintenance and support buildings for the farms, was a couple of small shops selling coffee and small lunch items.

He glanced around. The workers had abandoned the cluster in a hurry leaving tools and farm equipment scattered everywhere. One cow was eating some grass on the side of the road.

Over in a corner was a U-Ride station. Des grinned at the hover-scooter rental locker, making a dash for it. Des could rent a hover-scooter with the swipe of his ID-card.

“Can you afford a scooter?” Des yelled over his shoulder.

“No,” Elsie said, “My mom cut my allowance. Can you rent one for me?”

Des swiped the Auto-pad on the U-Ride. A small red light turned green, and a single hover-scooter of the correct size was released.

He swiped again. An ‘Insufficient Funds’ notification popped on the screen.

“Stupid Uncle Jacob,” Des muttered.

“What?” Elsie said.

“I don’t have enough for a second scooter. My uncle didn’t transfer my money like he said he was going to. We have to double up on the scooter.”

The station shook aggressively once more.

The Emergency Voice echoed from a speaker on the top of a building once again. “Level four alert.”

Des tuned it out. Hopping on the scooter, he motioned for Elsie to jump on behind him.

“Get on the best you can,” Des said. “We have to go.”

Elsie stuck her tongue out at him, climbing on. She wrapped her arms around Des’s chest.

“If I fall off and die, I will haunt you,” Elsie said.

Des struggled with the controls. He was used to the single person scooters. What he needed was a double. However, the way his luck ran, there were none at this rental. After a few moments, Des soared down the road with Elsie screaming behind him.

“You’re going too fast. You’re going too fast,” Elsie yelled.

A cluster of buildings stood in the distance. The size and amount of the buildings were similar to the ones they left behind. Everything was cut and paste. The needs of the workers were the same as one another. As such, each group of buildings was nearly identical.

Des flew into the farming cluster. He screeched to a stop near the heavy doors to the shelter, leaving the scooter laying on its side.

“We’re here,” Des said. “And we didn’t die.”

“Just barely,” Elsie replied.

Sprinting up to the door, the faded black lettering of the shelter announcing its vacancy.

The voice echoed from a speaker on the top of a building.

“Level one alert,” the Emergency Voice said, “Danger has passed. All civilians, please report to the nearest supervisor for debriefing.” There was a pause in the voice, “Des O’Neal and Elsie Dagg report to Captain Kusheeno.”

This ends the free preview chapter. 

Please head over to Amazon for more.

Finding old Work

Today was a cleaning day. I have been going through boxes, and I dug up my old writing. After my first stint in college — I went to Film School — I started writing in coil bound notebooks. I have dozens of them scattered everywhere. I have started dozens of ideas off different stories from zombies, to dragons, to science fiction about lost colonies and aliens.

I feel like an old archeologist hunting through old tomes. The faded yellow pages and faded ink speak to me from the past. I found myself looking at a story I had written, and I had no idea when I had written in, and I had to read three pages to see which one it was.

I discovered it was one about a boy who finds a dragon while living on an island. Where I got the idea from, I could only guess. It was a dive into the past.

I also found old versions of some of my other novels. Like one for my book Seismic Shock, when it had the working title of Culture Shock. I was amazed at how I changed the story as I wrote it.

One of the books I have been hunting for is the old notebooks that I had written my world in. I had two, and I only found the one. I am not sure what happened to the first one. I am missing a few nations, which is odd cause it is only three of the thirteen.

It isn’t a horrible thing as I can remember most of the country in my head. I have forgotten some of the details, but I can think up better ones. One of the notebooks I did, I dated the ideas or brain waves.

It is an interesting dive into the mind of a twenty-something who was creating a fantasy world, just like David Eddings.

I have to get back to it, I’d rather find that notebook and see what I had written down all those years ago. I’m curious about how the story has changed.

This journey is not something I can do alone. It takes support from many people for it to become a reality. The easiest way is to visit my Amazon Author Page and purchase one of my books. They are available in all countries and for free on Kindle Unlimited. I do have a tip jar set up at Ko-Fe, where you can buy me a coffee. Or you can also visit me on Facebook. Your help and support are much appreciated.

Respawned Glory: A story of Call of War Online

The game: Call of War Online. Tournament: World Championships. The match: the finals. The Prize: 100k cash.

In a war-torn city map of collapsed buildings, crumbling into piles of concrete, rebar, and pipes. Teams of snipers were out to kill. But only if Quint couldn’t kill them first. With the last team left standing to win it all.

Quint and his partner Corie are in the top ten. With two respawns, they must find a way to defeat the other teams. He wants the prize and will let nothing stand in his way to win it

If you like a short, gamelit, science fiction stories with realistic combat and game systems, then you will enjoy the action-packed, race against time novel written by Nathan Pedde

Grab a copy of “Respawned Glory” today and get in on the action.

Interlude: My Day Job

My life tends to revolve around two things; my writing and my family. I tend to talk about writing as I try not to talk too much about my personal life. Today, I am going into something different, I am going to talk about what is going on with my personal life and my day job.

In short, my day job doesn’t exist. As of June of last year, I was laid off from my job as an Estimator in a restoration firm. They had eliminated my position. I then discovered that most other companies in the area had done the same thing. In short, my job was farmed out to a third-party company that operates across the country.

So where does that leave me?

Unemployed with a wife, who is going to university, and two adventurist kids, who won’t understand why piano lessons have ended. Any job that I take will be a substantial pay cut as I have no skills outside of that industry, which is not hiring. I am back to square one.

For seven years of my life, I spent working in the restoration field. I was good at it. It wasn’t a glamorous job, at first I cleaned up shit for a living. Now, I looked at the prospect of having to start in a labourer position to earn my strips in another industry, but what?

So I took a sizeable step. I went back to school.

Fifteen years ago, right after high school, I went to film school. I graduated with a certificate. However, the industry wasn’t for me. It was the only post-secondary schooling that I had, which was apart of my problems.

With me unemployed from the restoration job, no trade to fall back on, and no degree either, it left me with the choice of minimum wage or slightly above the minimum as a labourer digging ditches.

My wife, however, knew that would be losing my soul. With her encouragement, I am now a university student. I have been going since September. I am taking a Major in Creative Writing.

The question is why. Why take an art degree when there are no jobs in the field? And don’t I already have novels published, why take schooling if I already know what to do?

The answers to those questions are simple. I know that there are no jobs that use an art degree. I completely understand. I have created my own job by being an indie author. It is about what a person makes of the situation more than the situation itself.

And yes, I do know how to write a novel and to tell a story. Writing a manuscript isn’t hard for me. I have three completed manuscripts sitting in the ‘to edit’ pile right now. However, I want to become an editor and maybe someday open my own publishing house. To do that, getting a degree is necessary.

But there are other benefits. My writing has been challenged to become tighter, cleaner. I am having an easier time articulating what I want to say. This is all necessary for growth as a writer. Before I went to school, I felt that my writing had stagnated as I wasn’t getting any better. In my honest opinion, my writing was sliding back into the abbess of shite.

So that is what has been going on with one part of my personal life. I am a university student who writes novels.

If you like what you are reading and wish to support me in my endeavours, please sign up to my newsletter, visit my Amazon Author Page and purchase one of my books. Leave a review, or buy me a coffee. Your help and support are much appreciated.

The Writing Process: The Routine

I have been writing every day for over sixty days now. Currently, I’m averaging just over 1400 words a day. I’m also editing for an hour every day. This is on top of anything that I have to do in my life. Kids, wife, daily tasks, etc.

As I have said before, writing a novel is not a sprint. It is an endurance race. Writing a book is like trying to get into shape. You can’t go to the gym for one day and expect to be in shape the next day. Same thing with writing a novel. It is not something that is done in a day.

Getting into a healthy shape is not a simple task but a lifestyle to be adopted. If you see someone that is actively working on staying healthy, it is not a task that they do for a few hours. They change their sleep habits, their eating habits, they start to walk places instead of driving.

What is similar in both a novelist and a workout guru is a routine. The guru will get up at 5am every day to go for a run. She will use some sort of calendar to check off to encourage the habit. In short, a routine is essential to getting the new habit going. Without a routine to rely upon at the start, the good habits don’t form, and the bad ones stay. A routine will keep you going when you want to quit. Clicking on a video game or Netflix after all is easy.

As I have stated before, my routine is that I write up little cards of the things that I need to do the next day the night before. The next day, I cross things off as I complete them. Due to my 500,000 word goal, I also have a spreadsheet that I keep track of. I also make sure that I finish my personal tasks first in the day before I work on other things.

For you, however, you may need to come up with different methods. The key is not to be afraid to think outside of the box and to try a new approach. Then dump whatever is not working for you. Use the method that works, discard anything that doesn’t.

Remember, a routine is your friend, but only when it works. When it fails to work, you need to drop it like fifth period french. I will go into more detail on that next week.

If you like what you are reading and wish to support me in my endeavours, please sign up to my newsletter, visit my Amazon Author Page and purchase one of my books. Leave a review, or buy me a coffee. Your help and support are much appreciated.


End of February 2019 Report

As like the post for the end of January, this is the post of the end of February. I am still putting my money where my mouth is.

Recap of 2019 Goals

  1. Write 500,000 words in personal, non-school related projects.
  2. Complete and publish Felix #2, Felix #3, Des O’Neal #1, Des O’Neal #2, Des O’Neal #3, Jovian Marines #1, Jovian Marines #2, Jovian Marines #3, Mech Warrior #1, Mech Warrior #2, Mech Warrior #3.
  3. Correct cover for Felix #1.
  4. Write four blog posts per month
  5. Give Felix #1 and Tokyo Tempest #1 a proofread.
  6. Complete and submit to market Terran Marine Raider short #1, Terran Marine Raider short #2, and RPG Death short.
  7. Earn $1000.00 a month from novels.
  8. Relaunch publishing company with a new, stronger name.
  9. Get 1 client for editing services.

February Accomplishments

  1. I wrote 41,013 words.
  2. I finished the first draft of Mech Warrior #1.
  3. Re-finished editing Des O’Neal #1
  4. Waiting on a cover for Des O’Neal #1
  5. Worked on editing Jovian Marines #1
  6. Wrote 4 blog posts during February

Examination of Accomplishments

  1. I wrote just over 41k words in February. It is not large enough for the 42,000 words that I set for myself, but that is okay. The base goal for February is 38,360 words. My month was far from perfect. I had many days where I didn’t make the 1500 words. I missed the goal ten times this month. However, I did manage to write over 2k words for nine days with my highest word day at 2558. This is a better month than January in terms of words.
  2. The novel with the working title of Mech Warrior #1 was started back in 2018. It is the second book of those that I had only partially completed. I had left the book 41k words, but now it has finished at 87k words. That makes three novels to be edited. I may have to figure out better editing habits as the pile is growing.
  3. At the start of the January, I had finished the edits to the first Des O’Neal book called The O’Neal Saboteur. However, after reexamining the book and learning some better editing “hacks,” I discovered that I missed some big errors. They are fixed now. I expect to publish it in the next few days. Stay tuned for that announcement in the coming days.
  4. I have been working with my wife, the artist, on a cover for the Des O’Neal book. It is coming along, and it will be a post once I can show something about it.
  5. The edits of Jovian Marines #1 are ongoing. The title of which will be The Missed Drop Zone. It will be in the Odinite Campaign Saga.
  6. As you can see from my previous posts, I have written four blog posts with them going live on Sundays. This month I wrote about story ideas and how to find them and nurture them.

Plan for the Future

Despite not hitting the publish button in the month of January or February, I consider the month of February to be successful. I start my day by editing for an hour before doing anything else. I will need to perhaps add more time to that. Maybe working on more time to write it. I need to get not only Missed Drop Zone published, but I need to get a large part of the way done editing Felix #2.  I still write my next day’s tasks at the end of each night.

I am currently working on a Military Sci-Fi for an anthology. It is still in the same story verse as Des O’Neal and the Odinite Campaign but is about someone on the side of Terra.

So far, it is working, but I have had to make some changes. I will go into details this Sunday when I drop my weekly post. Maybe I will also talk about some of the current projects that I am working on.

If you like what you are reading and wish to support me in my endeavours, please sign up to my newsletter, visit my Amazon Author Page and purchase one of my books. Or buy me a coffee. Your help and support are much appreciated.

The Wrong LZ

So I finally hit the button. I have published my military sci-fi novel.

It is called The Wrong LZ.

No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy.” Helmuth von Moltke the Elder, Chief of Staff, Prussian Army.

Gunnery Sergeant Flannagain O’Neal serves in the the First Battalion, Third Marine Regiment of the Jovian Republic Marines. They drop onto the enemy held planet of Freya in the Odin System. When the operation goes wrong, it goes wrong fast.

Now the surviving members of Third Platoon, Baker Company must fight behind enemy lines against the enemy Odinittes. A ruthless enemy that will stop at nothing to get what they want. To the enemy, the ends justify the means.

The Odinittes have numbers, equipment, and superior intelligence on there side. The only thing that O’Neal and the Jovian Marines have are suits of power armor and Flechette Rifles. But how long can a platoon of marines hold out against a division of enemy troops?

If you like action-packed military science fiction. If you enjoy stories about the underdog fighting against evil. Then you will enjoy this novel written by Nathan Pedde.

Grab a copy of “The Wrong LZ” today.

Sounds interesting?

Here is the link. Take a look.



Update July 3, 2018

So I know that I haven’t been posting in a while. I am sorry for that. I published my first book, then my posting fell off. So far this year, I have written 200k words. I have two full novels published and two smaller kids books that I did with my kids.

Plus being a dad has taken up much of my time. My son is in piano, and my daughter is a ballerina.

I know. I am creating excuses for why I haven’t been posting. The suns in my eyes… the curling game is on…

No more lame excuses.

I will be moving to post once a week for now, and maybe posting more later.

In other news, my day job was going fine. Until they laid me off. It sucks, but I have written 25k words in the last 2 weeks, and I have published one book. I have another in the editing process and a short story in editing as well. I am not letting the depressiveness get to me. I am getting things done.

I also have an outstanding cover artist. His work is fantastic and has upped the game to my novels. His cover is the image for this post.

His site can be found here: Josh Thornbrugh

So now that you know that I am unemployed and working on my novels full-time cause that is the cards that have been dealt, what’s my future?

Well, the plan is to go back to school. Learn more about the writing and publishing process. It is a scary prospect, but I will make a go of it.

I will close off here, but if you all want to support my family and me, the easiest way will be to buy a book or three. Right not they are only available on Amazon and as e-books. They will be released sometime in the near future.

The full list of my published book can be found here.

My published work. 

Until next time.

Stay Shiny.