The Fifth Di... March 2019

By J Alan Erwine

Are you ready to take a trip to places you could never imagine? The March 2019 issue of The Fifth Di... will take you there.
Genetically enhanced soldiers, interspecies love, a wild trip to White Sands, a grim future America, and Michigan disappearing are just some of the things waiting for you as The Fifth Di... kicks off yet another year of publishing some of the best small press science fiction and fantasy that we can find.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nomadic Delirium Press
• Release date: Feb 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463145661

J Alan Erwine

J Erwine was born Oct. 15, 1969 in Akron, Ohio. Early in his life he was exposed to science, and specifically astronomy. From there on, J's passion turned to science fiction, a passion that's never died. Due to family issues, J eventually found himself in Denver, Colorado, where he still lives (well, right outside now.) From the time he could put subject and predicate together on paper, J has been writing stories. None of those early stories exist anymore (thankfully), but that passion for writing has never waned. After several years of rejection, the story Trek for Life was eventually sold to ProMart Writing Lab editor James Baker. It wasn't Asimov's, but it was a start. Since that time J has sold more than forty short stories to various small press publishers. In addition ProMart also published a short story collection of J's entitled Lowering One's Self Before Fate, and other stories, which is still available. ProMart also published a novel from J entitled The Opium of the People, which sold a few copies before going out of print. The relevance of the novel after the events of September 11th caused J to self-publish the novel, as he felt the story had a lot to say in the new reality we now find ourselves living in. Now, this same book has been re-released by Nomadic Delirium Press. Eventually J would become an editor with ProMart. Then, after the untimely death of ProMart editor James Baker, J would move on to ProMart's successor Sam's Dot Publishing. J also spends most of his time working as a freelance writer and editor. J's novel was voted a top ten finisher in the 2003 annual Preditors & Editors contest, and his short story The Galton Principle won a ProMart contest for best story over 5,000 words. In addition, a number of his stories have been voted "best of" in various issue of The Martian Wave and The Fifth DI… and have been included in Wondrous Web Worlds Vols. 2, 3, 4, and 6. In 2009, the Ephemeris Role Playing Game was released. J is the co-creator of this game, and has written numerous supplements for the game. J has now sold three novels and four short story collections, all of which are still available from various sources, including Smashwords. J currently lives with his amazing wife, three wonderful children, three cats, and a very quiet turtle.

Book preview

THE FIFTH DI…

March 2019

Edited by J Alan Erwine

Published by Nomadic Delirium Press at Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright 2019 by Nomadic Delirium Press

All stories are copyrighted in the names of their respective authors

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passes in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, broadcast, etc.

Nomadic Delirium Press

Aurora, Colorado

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Agent Patel by Eamonn Murphy

One Hour a Day by Margaret Karmazin

A Cross of Atoms by Jennifer Rachel Baumer

Nine Stories by Benjamin Whitney Norris

Fugue State by Tom W. Miller

Agent Patel

By Eamonn Murphy

Get down, Patel! I shouted.

She dropped immediately and the laser beam passed just over her head, sizzling brightly in the night. One second later and it would have sliced that lovely torso in two.

Foster! Get over here!

Agent Foster scuttled across to me on all fours. We were pinned down in a golf bunker, of all places. Our target was Boss Chauhan’s compound, a cluster of drugs factories, weapons stores and residential homes. There were even kennels and stables. It was all surrounded by a high wall and located just a few miles from Washington D.C. because the Boss, as he was widely known, had several Congressmen and Senators at his beck and call and liked to keep close tabs on them. Meanwhile, the Free Federation Police Agency kept close tabs on him so we knew he was at home.

Getting to him was a different matter. The first line of defence was that external wall, only a hundred yards away up a gentle slope but manned by an ungentle private army with the best weapons available. We all wore synthisteel stealth suits with widgets to disrupt sensors but the bad guys had special goggles and scanners to compensate. That’s how it is with offensive and defensive technology. They stay in step and cancel each other out so that in the end we might as well have stuck with swords and shields.

Foster dropped next to me. He was a big, brawny blond Englishman of affable temperament, popular with everyone and I was glad he was safe. There was a dip in the ground off to our left where Agents Wong and Carter were keeping their heads down. Patel was in the bunker with us. Agents Connelly, Zoulou and Sanchez were in another hollow to our right. A three-quarter moon shone down on us. We should have picked a darker night but didn’t have the luxury of choosing.

This was meant to be a surprise attack, said Foster.

The best-laid plans... I said. General Chang probably has a spy in the Agency. I nodded to the satchel that was slung over his left shoulder. Got anything useful in there?

Flashers, maybe? Even I can’t pitch explosives that far. Even Patel couldn’t! We’ll have to blind them and get closer.

I restrained a smile. Foster could have been a baseball pro and for him to admit that Patel could throw farther wasn’t easy. It was true, though. She did everything better than the rest of us, except warmth. Patel didn’t do warmth.

I hollered instructions to the others. Listen up! Fosters going to lob a few flashbombs and smokers. Lay down a covering fire for him and then charge. With any luck, we’ll make it to the wall. On three. One...two...three!

Patel was first on her feet, holding her laser rifle at hip height and swivelling from left to right so the beam cut across the top of the defensive wall. The rest of us were doing the same half a second later. We were quick but no one could match her genetically enhanced reflexes.

Except for Boss Chauhan, of course. He was genetically enhanced as well.

Foster lobbed three flashbombs and two smoke bombs in quick succession. I closed my eyes and ran forward, stepping high to avoid falling over anything small and hoping I wouldn’t step in a hole and break my fool ankle. The risk was low. From what we had seen, the golf course was as carefully manicured as the White House lawn. Only the best for Boss Chauhan.

The White House. Once the centre of politics for the U.S.A. and now the seat of government for the Free Federation. That was where it had all started a few hours before.

*

You could be the last hope for liberty on Earth, Agent Patel, and probably for the Free Federation as well.

Hari Murtan shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair and gazed earnestly at the woman in the black synthisteel suit. It fitted her lean body like a glove but I don’t think that mattered to the President of Earth, Luna City, Marsdome and a couple of dozen far-flung colony worlds. Having seen off one hundred and thirty-six summers he was too old for girls. The synthisteel suit wasn’t designed to tempt men anyway. It was manufactured to resist knives, swords and even, to a minimal extent, lasers. I wore one myself, like any agent going on a mission.

Murtan turned to me. He looked drawn and tired. He had won the election fair and square but might serve a very short term. The Director of the Agency had issued instructions that Murtan was not the legally elected President and had no authority so officially we shouldn’t have been taking orders from him but sometimes you have to do the right thing, even if it’s not legal.

A vidscreen on the wall was showing the riots in New York. They had already covered those in Beijing, Moscow, London and a dozen other cities. The sound was muted.

The mob was revolting and Earth was descending into anarchy.

Are you going with her, Watson? Murtan asked me.

A team of us, sir. Boss Chauhan’s H.Q. is well defended.

Tall, rangy Jeff Bishop was Murtan"s speechwriter and Chief Policy Advisor. He was sat at his desk with his head down and both hands buried in his dark curls watching the screen.

Damn Boss Chauhan, he said, and damn General Chang and damn the Federalist Party, too. They got us into this mess.

For a loyal member of the Free Democrat Party to damn all those he had named wasn’t surprising but I had to agree.

The Federalist Party had cut public spending to the bare minimum so that they