The Underwater Factory: Children of Two Futures 2

By G. J. Winters

From the Publisher that brought you popular short story series Chains of Darkness, Song of Teeth, Soulyte, The Magaram Legends, Requiem for a Dream,and Children of Time, now brings you, Children of Two Futures....

When faced with the task of saving humans from destruction, what will you do?
THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES AS KENNETH AND SAVANNAH UNRAVEL THE MYSTERIES BEHIND THE CAUSE OF HUMAN EXTINCTION

Savannah Proehl, Kenneth Yardrow and Unquill Hester visited Heracleion to find out what exactly is behind the murder of Imam Walid Felor, Olon Daniel, and Kaloa Syncrate. The only thing connecting these three people is their participation in a project that is supposed to make atmosphere ships capable of standing up to the Soonseen.

The Okuda Drive is perhaps the most important undergoing project, as it puts humanity on an even footing with the Soonseen.

Who can possibly be trying to stop a project that will protect the Earth from invasion?

There is only one way to find out—get to the center of all the events themselves.

In the second installment of this adventurous tale, Kenneth and Savannah visit an underwater factory in Heracleion where the Okuda Drive is being built. Being at the root of it all, they hope to see the bigger picture and piece things together.

But will they make it in time, when before they even got there, the unknown enemy has already set a plan for their destruction?

Follow Kenneth and Savannah as they find more answers as secrets unravel right before their very eyes....

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EXCERPT
When the driver told them they had arrived at their destination, she didn't believe him at first. She remembered that President Slaan had wanted them to visit an underwater factory. She had thought of driving through a tunnel connecting the base to the mainland. She had not envisioned a submarine, much less one that looked so different from the ones she had seen in the movies.

The gray metallic mass of the submarine extended a longer distance than Savannah would have thought possible. Every submarine she had seen had been small vessels in which people had to duck their heads.

She supposed submarines from the seventy-third century had to accommodate the reality of people being very tall. It looked like a round, cylindrical section of metal that reminded Savannah of a stovepipe hat.

As they advanced on the submarine with rain pouring down all around them, a hatch opened to reveal a thin man wearing a dark blue hat with a yellow brim.

The man called out to them, “Just use the rungs there. Give a cry if you need assistance!”

The rain fell down in sheets, and Savannah's braid soaked through, sticking to her shirt. Her sneakers squished in the puddles that formed around her feet. She walked right up to the edge of the submarine, and then grasped hold of a series of metal rungs protruding from the hull.

She was the first to climb up to the top of the submarine where the man in the blue hat waited for them. He guided her onto the ladder that went down into the bowels of the ship.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Ross
• Release date: Sep 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301373642

G. J. Winters

G.J. Winters “fell into” writing when a well-meaning teacher of his submitted his Creative Writing assignment for publication in the school paper. The local paper picked up the article and asked G.J. for publishing rights, to which the young G.J. agreed with some hesitation, as he felt “that wasn’t one of my best writings at the time.” The reality was that this article was written when G.J. was a junior in high school.The article, which was a fictionalized version of a local myth surrounding a famous abandoned house near a swamp, was an assignment turned in as part of a mid-term exam. The teacher, Miss Mendez, thought G.J.’s writing was “exemplary” and showed “natural, raw writing talent for a person his age." The assignment called for “providing details to a local urban myth – provide background, using a local resident’s POV, and close with a vague hint of authenticity and realism."The story, entitled “The Old Mansion by the Swamp,” appeared in the high school paper as a short story, but was later serialized in the local paper in 6 parts. G.J. added more characters and even a sub-story (which later became a story of its own, “I Was Shirley Massey” – a story which centered on a member of the fictional family who resided in the Massey Mansion in the late 70s and disappeared without a trace).With the success of both of his original series, G.J. thought to venture into writing longer stories, this time with futuristic themes, as he has always been fascinated with travelling through time, future crimes, apocalyptic themes, and stories set in civilizations from the future.G.J. identifies with sci-fi writers such as Isaac Asimov (“Kept me awake through most evenings in college.”) and Margaret Peterson Haddix (“My girlfriend at the time had fits of jealousy over my fanatical tendencies towards this author.”).G.J. holds a degree in Chemistry, is an intern at the R&D division of a pharmaceutical manufacturing company, and lives with girlfriend Deidre, a magazine editor.

Book preview

The Underwater Factory

By GJ Winters

Published by Publications Circulations LLC.

SmashWords Edition

All contents copyright (C) 2014 by Publications Circulations LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this document or the related files may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, companies and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

~ ~ ~ ~

Day Eight

Chapter One

THE REBELS WERE on the run in Madagascar. After getting back his 161 Williamsport Turtle, Indigo Pavun Kiro let it be known throughout the island that the rebels would have nowhere to hide. He hadn't changed his mind when the rebels scattered before him as he led troops from the United Solar Army through the island, leaving ruined cannons, broken vehicles and dead bodies in his wake.

In the meantime, the mining and shipping of Estonite continued unabated. With no further obstacles in their way, the people from Rayston Mining International sent out a shipment every day.

They had three groups of workers. The first group had traveled with citizens Hester, Proehl and Yardrow to Alexandria and taken a flight back. While they were in the air, the second group headed up to Alexandria.

When the first group landed, the third group left. The first group had enough time to land and get a few hours of rest before they had to leave themselves. The mining schedule ran smoothly. No interruptions had plagued the company's efforts, now that the rebels had to focus on hiding themselves instead of attacking with all their strength.

A hot sky shone overhead as Pavun sat in the back of a hovercraft, surveying the scene before him. The scent of exotic food drifted on the wind. Beads of sweat formed on Pavun's forehead every few seconds. At first, he brushed them off, then after tiring of the effort, he let them fall down his shoulders.

A group of rebels knelt in front of the Turtle while men under Pavun's command fastened their hands behind their backs. They had an assortment of skin colors: dark brown, sunburned white, and tan.

Pavun had never seen diversity among the rebels before. He had been told once, when he accepted his command a year and a half ago, that the further up the command chain the rebels got, the more they resembled a group of international bankers.

Though they wore dirty, torn clothes, the rebels held themselves as though they were one of the world's most powerful citizens. The comparison Pavun had heard proved to be accurate after all.

At the edge of a tree line, a pair of golden eyes stared at him through a patch of undergrowth. Pavun focused on the eyes, and saw a pair of nostrils below it. So well had the animal hidden itself that Pavun had not first seen the golden fur without a brown mane.

A female lion stared at him, and only him, through patches of green leaves. Pavun raised a hand in greeting. The lion flinched and stood up. It turned its back, sauntering away while its tail moved back and forth.

Pavun turned his attention back to the rebels. To him, they did not seem very much like lions. Had the choice been up to Pavun, he would have fled the island to begin anew in some other region.

These rebels had stayed, however. Then, they surrendered. No other rebel unit had surrendered before, not in the seven battles Pavun had fought in the last three days. That, more than anything else, drove his curiosity forward.

He disembarked from the hovercraft. His back ached from sitting in the same hovercraft for hours on end, and a knot of soreness nagged at him from between his shoulder blades. His large boots touched the ground, leaving imprints in the damp ground.

By the time he stood before the rows of kneeling men and women, Pavun had drawn his blue energy weapon and affixed it to the palm of his right hand.

Standing at twelve feet tall, Pavun cast a long shadow over the rebels. A white man with a sunburned face stared up at Pavun with contempt.

Though Pavun saw no wounds on the man's body, a patch of blood ran diagonally across his shirt. He wore a white beanie on his head, as did all the other rebels. Patches of facial hair gathered on the man's cheeks.

The man said to Pavun, You've done it. You've won.

Pavun's hand went to his weapon. He heard those exact two sentences before, just before a surprise attack had caught him off guard in the grasslands of North America.

He went down to one knee so that he didn't have to look straight down at the kneeling man. He said, Have I won?

The man said, "We are the leaders of the rebel army in Madagascar. You have found us. We have lost. This