Conscripts: The First Book Of The Off World Trilogy

By Patrick Locke

Jacob Young thought he knew exactly what he wanted in life, down to the last detail. He had finished his education, found the right girl, and was now just waiting on that ideal job that would launch him towards his perfectly-planned-out future. Instead, he awakes to find himself forced onto a different path—as a human conscript in an alien war—far from everything he knows and loves.

Propelled into danger, he soon realizes that his only choice—and that of his new comrades—is to rise to the occasion, to endure unimaginable difficulties and help each other make it home. Unbeknownst to Jacob, not only is he in a struggle for his life, but one that will impact humanity.

Back on Earth, when a mass disappearance of people across the globe calls for governmental investigations it is quietly dismissed as an unsolved and strange coincidence, like the flocks of birds that drop dead from the sky. With so little information, even the 24-hour news cycle soon abandons its coverage. The only ones that appear unable to move on are the loved ones that the missing left behind. Luckily for Jacob, his family refuses to give up on him.

Jacob faces new worlds and epic battles, with only courage and hope to guide him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patrick Locke
• Release date: Jan 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310989476

Patrick Locke

Patrick Locke is the author of the sci-fi series The Off World Trilogy . A Marine Corp veteran and former behaviorist, his story captures the strength of the human spirit, courage in the face of adversity, and working together for a common goal.Raised near a remote Pacific Northwest town close to the Canadian border, he was more at home outside than in. With his closest neighbor miles away, he entertained himself with stories—from books and an overactive imagination—cultivating his love of all-night reading, putting music soundtracks to the stories in his head, as well as developing a good case of insomnia.His diverse education, career and travels have taken him far from his sleepy hometown to many different countries, the first Gulf War, and teaching English in Spain. As a behaviorist and MBA grad, he’s also worked with mentally- and behaviorally-challenged teenagers, taught language arts and mathematics in a behavioral school, and managed technology projects for Fortune 500 companies.But his love of the outdoors has remained his constant—hiking, climbing and skiing his way through life, from the Pyrenees in France to the rivers and mountains of Colorado to his beloved backcountry of the Pacific Northwest. His stories are often centered around his love of nature, a belief in the equality of all individuals—with honorable, driven male characters and strong, intelligent female ones—and personal responsibility in respecting and protecting our planet and its inhabitants. He strives to deliver engaging stories based on an underlying theme that we all want to be a part of something meaningful, something exciting, and something out of the ordinary.Patrick currently resides in Washington State with his 22-year partner-in-crime Laurie. His mind, on the other hand, continues to travel and roam the distant worlds he creates in his head. Find out more about his fiction athttp://www.AuthorPatrickLocke.comhttps://www.facebook.com/PatrickLocke.Author/

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CONSCRIPTS

THE FIRST BOOK OF

THE OFF WORLD TRILOGY

By PATRICK LOCKE

Copyright 2014 Patrick Locke

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

Edited by: Laurie Woicik

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. 

You are the love of my life,

You are my sunshine,

I need you more than the air I breathe;

And our little Pupcake, Chloe,

You are dearly missed.

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Prologue

Jacob had never been what you’d call a morning person. And even if he had been, this was no usual morning.

Wake up, he thought urgently, as he often did when half asleep and trying to force himself out of a disturbing dream.

He drifted in and out—straining for consciousness—as wave upon wave of a murky darkness washed over him, threatening to pull him down into its depths.

Come on, Jacob. Without warning, his stomach lurched violently, snapping his thoughts into focus and sending little pinpricks of light dancing behind his closed eyelids.

What is going on … he heard himself mutter out loud. As his mind battled to put the pieces together, instinctively he knew something was terribly wrong. Another wave rushed over him—capped with more nausea—and bringing with it a long ago memory.…

It was the day of his seventh birthday and his family had taken a trip to Seaside, Oregon to celebrate. It had been a gorgeous day for the beach, the bright sunlight in perfect balance with the Pacific Ocean breeze that typically kept the place cold and windy in the sun’s absence.

He had been building a sand castle at the water’s edge—the kind of castle his dad had taught him to build—with high walls, strong towers and a deep moat.

Intent on adding his own special lookout tower, he had failed to notice the fast-rolling sneaker wave crest and hurl itself onto the sandy beach, knocking him down and filling his lungs with salty water. His seven-year-old self had been no match for the ocean’s strength as it dragged him out; if not for his dad’s level-headedness and fast response, his castle-building days would have ended there.

As the fear-filled memory faded, the current light stung his eyes, and he tried to quiet the whirling of the propeller-like vertigo that spun the world around him. He coughed violently and was rewarded with an unbearable burning sensation in his sinus cavities, like he’d somehow managed to snort ignited alcohol—a fire breather’s trick gone dreadfully wrong.

His head bowed, Jacob's face felt like it was oozing fluid, and he shook it back and forth to try and dislodge some of the dregs. The extra movement only brought on another bout of nausea, and an unmistakable acid taste filled his mouth. He swallowed hard—his throat and mouth coated in its sour paste—as he tried to force down the unpleasant mess. I could go for some water.

When he attempted to open his eyes, it felt like someone had squeezed a juicy orange peel directly into their sockets. He pinched them shut, waited a moment, then tried again—blinking rapidly against the light—until he was able to open them wide enough, and long enough, to look down towards his hands … his hands that were lying in a large puddle of noxious-smelling fluid … a fluid that pooled around him in a thick layer of syrupy sludge.

With his mind clearing, he noticed the deep, throbbing ache in his knees, as if he’d kneeled so long on a cheese grater that the skin had sunk firmly into its serrated holes. He wanted to move them but imagined the skin—misshaped and pallid from lack of blood—tearing off in gooey chunks that stayed stuck to where they were pressed into the cold floor.

Where am I … how did—?

His mumbling was cut short as a white-hot pain erupted from his head and emanated down his spinal column. It quickly spread throughout every nerve of his body, every muscle firing at once as the air in his lungs escaped his body in a torturous hiss.

He began to gag; his muscles pulsated uncontrollably until he no longer had the strength to keep himself upright and flopped chest first into the vile-smelling sludge.

As the pain continued its assault, wracking his body with convulsions, Jacob’s mind flooded with a fear so palpable he panicked. He was barely able to comprehend what was happening as his teeth ground down on his tongue, the unpleasant taste of iron and salt filling his mouth.

He didn't know how long he lay there shaking. But when the pain and spasms finally dissipated, Jacob was left gasping for what little life-giving air he could manage to pull into his lungs. A deep, pulsating ache coursed through his bones; every nerve fiber in his body felt singed and raw. His only sense of comfort had oddly become the cold, wet floor, which was now firmly pressed against the side of his face.

He forced his right eye open; his left remained clamped shut, firmly held that way by the floor. He slowly blinked until the ground came into focus. The floor had a stone-like texture, the light exposing the dimpled surface until his eye locked onto a small floor drain.

Jacob ebbed in and out of consciousness—his eye continuing to return to that drain, until he found his view obstructed. He blinked to see if he could trust the image in front of him … blocking the floor drain was a pair of peculiar-looking shoes.

"Help … me … please," he mumbled, his voice so weak that the sound of his plea didn’t register outside of his own head.

The shoes took a step closer, and an acute sense of foreboding came over him. As he struggled to understand, the surrounding light quickly faded and narrowed until it became a single microscopic point.

And with a whimper that sounded more like an exasperated sigh, the darkness reclaimed him once again.

PART 1

DREAMS

CHAPTER 1

1

He woke up with a start at the sound of his mother’s voice drifting through the thin walls, coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. Frowning, he chastised himself. Ugh, I must have drifted off to sleep again.

The traces of an unsettling dream still lingered in his mind; though, when he tried to remember what it had been about, its meaning quickly dissipated into nothingness. He had a fleeting image of his girlfriend Sarah, crying up at him, as she held an odd-looking, open-topped box with what appeared to be a spectacle wearing earthworm inside. A sort of Alice in Wonderland meets Scholastic’s cartoon character … Hmmm, well anyway, it made no sense now, but he must remember to text Sarah about it. She always loved trying to figure out what his weird dreams meant, especially when she was in them.

He rolled over and stretched. I can’t forget to text her this morning, he thought.

Sarah liked it when he did that. She said it was because it let her know he was thinking about her first thing in the morning. And things between them had been going especially well for the last few months and he wanted to do whatever he could to keep it that way … especially given how patient she’d been with him lately.

He cautiously cracked opened his left eye to glance at the alarm clock, balanced precariously on the stack of books piled on his nightstand, and sighed. Graduation had come and gone faster than he had imagined possible. For four years he had put so much emphasis on that single day, that day that would be the stepping off point for his perfect life.

The only glitch in his well-thought-out plan was that somehow, inconceivable really, his perfectly-planned-out future had failed to launch in the dramatic fashion of his reoccurring daydreams. Here’s the way it was supposed to happen: graduate with honors, get a great job with good money and responsibility, find his four-legged best friend (a Lab of course), move up the ranks, get married, buy a Range Rover, move to a sprawling brick house in the suburbs, have kids (two or three depending), eventually run his own company, and then take early retirement—complete with all the travel and golf one could ask for. The stuff of dreams, right?

However, for Jacob Young, instead of being firmly on the path to realizing his so-called perfect life, he found himself on the side of the road … his route blocked by one single, but major obstacle.

Imagine if you had waited years for your favorite book to be made into a movie. And when it finally arrives, you spend hours on opening day to ensure you get a great seat—even camping out to be first in line for tickets. Anticipation builds as the lights dim, the curtain rises and the previews play. Finally, the music stops, signaling the movie is about to begin. But then … the screen gets fuzzy … there is a pause … the pause continues … it grows longer … the crowd grows restless … and for months, nothing appears on the screen.

That was the way it was for him. Up until this point he was jobless, and this morning would soon join a long line of wasted days … waiting for the rest of his life to begin.

For the first few months after graduation, he had focused in and worked hard. He had been super motivated and highly optimistic that the job he was looking for was right around the corner. He had got up early, sent out what felt like a thousand resumes, went to every job fair in a 30-mile radius, and dressed as if he was that young man going places like his Grandpa Sherman used to call him whenever he got dressed up. He showered every morning.…

But, pretty soon the monotony and frustration of it all started to ebb away at his motivation. He just could not understand why, after all his hard work, he couldn’t find the right job … or any job for that matter. Sure, he knew the stats about the economy and unemployment rates, but could it really be this difficult? He was still trying, but at this point he was having a hard time not feeling like the only thing he was accomplishing was going through the motions—continuing more because he didn’t know what else to do, rather than having any actual hope of being employed.

Through the walls of his bedroom, he could hear his mother and younger sister, Natalie, who was still in high school. They were locked in a heated discussion about the length of a skirt she had bought—apparently on sale as if that mattered—and wanted to wear to a friend’s birthday party. He couldn’t help but smile in amusement as the conversation ended—abruptly, with the same dramatic flair it had so many times before.

"Fine Mom, whatever…," he heard Nat say, followed by the sounds of her flouncing out of the kitchen and down the hall. But before quiet settled back over the house, he heard one more sound. The slam of her bedroom door.…

It had been years since he had been the same age as Natalie was now, trying to figure out how he fit into his family, his school and the world around him. But still fresh enough that he could empathize with what she was going through.

He scrolled through old memories in his mind, hitting play on similar scenes from his past. His mother, so patient, trying numerous times to explain her perfectly logical reasons for her decisions; while—in the other corner—he continued to try out his new found reasoning and compromising skills to get what he wanted. There would often come a point when she would turn her beautiful, careworn face towards him with what he had coined her we’re done now look. When that look emerged, it meant that the discussion was over, her decision non-negotiable, end of story.

When he had been on the receiving end of that look, he had lamented about the unfairness of it all, thought she was so mean, raged against the machine as it were. But looking back with his current perspective—with time, age and maturity as the trifecta of filters—he could better understand why his mom did things the way she did. He now had an appreciation for her decisions, knowing that her reasons were based on an immense love for him and his sister and not some diabolical-controlling method.

They were both truly lucky because they could not have asked for a better mom. Times had often been hard for their little family, but he felt she’d done a great job—actually, to her credit, an amazing job—raising two kids alone after his dad died. And for some reason, now that he was a little older, he had become fiercely protective of her. Even though she didn’t seem to need it, he secretly felt better looking out for her.

Jacob often thought of that day they learned his father had died. His mom had taken them to their grandparents’ farmhouse in Eastern Washington to welcome his Uncle Roger back from the war. Roger had joined the United States Marine Corps right out of high school, and when he did his parents knew it would only be a matter of time before their younger son Tom followed suit. Their boys had always been inseparable.

But Roger's truck wasn't the only one to pull into the driveway that evening. Not long after he had arrived, a second vehicle climbed the long dusty hill to the house. When Roger answered the door, Jacob could see two Marines—wearing their Dress Blues—standing on the front porch.

On the day Uncle Roger had been honorably discharged, his brother Tom—his best friend—and his squad had been ambushed. Jacob’s dad had run out to grab a wounded buddy and was running back to cover—his squad mate draped over his shoulders—when a mortar round landed next to them; he had died instantly.

When the news was delivered, Roger didn’t say a word. He just stepped around them and a moment later Jacob heard his uncle’s truck start. He had sat at the window listening to it fade away down the old dirt drive.

It was long ago now, but while many memories fade, this one did not. He readjusted his pillow as he lie there trying to build up the motivation to get his day started. Another childhood memory that always stood out—he wasn’t exactly sure why—was being asked by his favorite teacher, Ms. Adams, who he’d admired most. He hadn’t been able to pick one. He had always had three.

My mom because she loves me, he’d said. My dad because he was a Marine and he died trying to help his friends. And the third person he’d admired most, to this day—

"Jaacobbbb," his mother yelled from the kitchen, pulling him back to reality. Roger said he’ll be here at eight.

The third person that he had wanted to be like would kick his butt if he was not ready to go when he got there.

2

Roger had never left himself off the hook that, because of him, Jacob’s dad had enlisted and as a result died in the war. He believed that if one of them was going to die, it should have been the bachelor, not the family man with a wife and two young kids.

When he learned of his brother’s death, not only was he weighted with grief, but with an immense sense of guilt. When they were young, the brothers had always talked about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail together. So with some of Tom's ashes he had quickly made his preparations and headed out to the town of Campo, California, the launching off point for the trail. Roger would hike it in his brother's honor. For months he plodded along, alone but determined, the pain of those 2,600-plus miles nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

Then on one particularly starry night under a New Moon—the sky a cloudless canvas—he had sat gazing up at the silently shifting universe, alive with countless stars and unexplored planets. He was struck by its beauty and how much Jacob’s dad would have loved to be there. A meteor, burning its way across the upper atmosphere, caught his eye, and he took the opportunity to speak for the first time in a long time. 

I miss you Tom … I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, he yelled to the streaking ball of flame—this simple act releasing a shower of pent up emotion. And, for the first time since his brother’s death, he wept. 

At that moment he remembered the oath he’d sworn to his brother—to look after his family if anything ever happened to him. And while he couldn’t change the past and bring his brother back, he could do something about what happened in the future.

With this new responsibility waiting for him, he’d quickly finished his long trek and returned home to fulfill his pledge. Since that day he’d been a constant guardian and companion to Jacob and his sister—always there for anything they needed.

He taught them to respect others, to love the outdoors, and the virtues of hard work. And he was always looking for opportunities to weave in some type of lesson; e.g., how you should be true to yourself, why it’s important to be fair and honest when dealing with others, or his favorite all-time speech: the importance of respecting one’s family.

3

They had been planning this weekend for months. Roger took the day off to make it a three-day and the plan was to head out for some rock climbing at Smith Rock State Park near Bend, Oregon. By the time Roger pulled up out front Jacob had showered, grabbed breakfast, and already rechecked his gear bag to make sure he had everything.

With a hurried kiss and hug to his mom and little sis, he vaulted out the door as soon as he heard Roger's truck and was buckling his belt almost before the truck had come to a full stop. The two looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes for a moment before a smile crept across Jacob's face. Sometimes they didn’t have to say anything at all; they loved this stuff.

The six-hour drive flew by and after setting up their campsite in the bivouac area, Jacob took a moment to reintroduce himself to the place he had been to at least a dozen times. The massive red rocks appeared to rise out of the middle of the high plains desert, stretching towards the sky where no one would expect them. Its 300-days of sunshine a year was evident that day—at 3 p.m. it shone brightly on many of the most popular routes making it a very hot afternoon of climbing. But they were up for it anyway and climbed until the sun started to set.

The next morning was cold—at 6 o’clock they were climbing in pants and long sleeve shirts—but by 10 a.m. they’d stripped down to just shorts due to the heat. After a quick stop for lunch they moved to the backside of the mountains, where few people go, to climb the famous Monkey Face in solitude.

At the bivouac that night, they spent the evening relaxing under the cloudless sky—talking over the day’s events and their hopes and dreams for the future—ending in a comfortable silence just sitting back and watching the stars together.

On Sunday they had a decision to make. Do they head out and get home early, or do they climb through the morning and get home late? Even though Roger had to work Monday morning, the decision was made in less time than it took to ask the question. So with gear and snacks they headed out for the wall.

Roger lead climbed the first route of the day—a tough one that ended in a grueling overhang, dangling a climber 75-feet off the ground. After he got to the chains, he tied in and headed down.

Jacob couldn’t wait to give it a try. How was it? he asked, as he quickly geared up.

Wonderful, but that last pitch is tough, rough on the hands, Roger said. He double checked Jacob’s equipment and smiled. You ready?

You know it, Jacob answered.

It was at that moment that they heard a scream. They both stopped and turned towards the direction of the sound, waiting. A second scream was heard, someone in pain bouncing through the valley.

Grab your gear, Roger said. He started snatching up his stuff. Let's go.

Jacob was right behind him as they bounded down the path, pausing for a second as another peal of anguish erupted around them. This way, Jacob said, and they headed off again.

As they came around a corner, they saw a group of people in the distance. They recognized them as the family they’d run into earlier that morning, trudging up the path. The dad was an outdoors type, but the mom looked like she would be happier shopping. Their two kids—a son and daughter—had already been complaining about being tired when Jacob and Roger had passed them on the trail.

Looking up, they could see the boy—ten, maybe eleven years old—about 20 feet up the rock face.

As they approached, they could hear the dad calling instructions up to him. Stay calm, you need to try and get your right leg up on another hold, he yelled.

You can consider yourself divorced if anything happens to him, the women screamed at him.

Roger and Jacob quickly finished covering the distance between them and the family. What seems to be the trouble? Roger asked.

The

Reviews for Conscripts

[deshanya · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This plot has been done before and done better, by David Weber in The Excalibur Alternative. Read that one instead of this one, or after, just for comparison.Under attack from physically superior foes, aliens abduct 400 Earthlings and enhance them physically and mentally. While also installing a pain device. Only 196 survive the process. Those that are left are expected to take out the invaders. And then, they're promised, they'll get to go home.The battles they face are small and they win, only to be betrayed. And there the book ends. While the book is long enough and the action engrossing enough to be a real book, the ending is a cliffhanger, no doubt about it.The book starts off very slowly, with individual histories for a few of the characters. I think they were unnecessary and dull, but as they're all that's keeping the characters from being cardboard cutouts, I suppose it works.I received an electronic copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

[thicks-4 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I won this book in exchange for an honest review. This was a pretty good book. Not the type I usually go for but enjoyable non the less. Nice writing and great characters.