The Prince of the Universe

By Alexandria Rosas

Henry was not prepared to face the truth
about his ancestry. Being an intelligent
college student and getting accepted into
the most high-class astronomy programs was
a privilege for him, but learning about being
part of a deathly revolt has brought him grave
danger. Henry must protect his friends and
meet his father, but a dark rival waits him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9781479792450

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Alexandria Rosas.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. Date: 03/16/13

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

125046

Contents

Note

Prologue

Stage One

Stage Two

Stage Three

Stage Four

Stage Five

Stage Six

Stage Seven

Stage Eight

Stage Nine

Stage Ten

Coda

Glossary

Dedicated to my family, friends, and teachers

who have supported my writing interest and have given me the courage

to continue on this path from the very beginning.

Note

As you read this story, you may come across certain types of words, phrases, and names that you may have not heard or used before. At the last pages of the book, there is a glossary to specifically define these particular words. The glossary words are in no certain order. Some of the words and phrases in this story have already been defined so they won’t be contained in the glossary. Heed this important note and continue if you dare

*     *     *

Prologue

The Beginning

I brushed my way past the typical crowds of people in the city of Los Angeles. Today is January, 7, 3243, days after I had just turned nineteen. I am enrolled in Clinton Mays University of Los Angeles, established a few years ago, one of the best colleges in the world. Here in L.A., the amount of cars has reduced greatly ever since the Automobile Act has been passed. The Act has stated that the increasing amount of automobiles has been polluting the air and killing off a lot of forests and has declared that cars are to be prohibited. Instead, other transportation devices will take over. Ever since the Act has been distributed, the streets of Los Angeles are congested with pedestrians. Most people use transportation tubes to get them to places. Transportation tubes are similar to elevators, but they can travel in all directions. Everything in Los Angeles has changed. Fashion shows now use holograms to model, arcades has simulation machines that let you experience taking action in your favorite video games. More machines benefit on solar energy, hydro energy, or wind energy to operate. I sauntered around, just another face in the crowd with black hair, brown eyes, and slightly pointed ears, but most of my hair concealed them. I’m just your typical nineteen year old.

All of a sudden, a breaking news report flashed on a large screen in the middle of the city.

"Hello, this is Judy McCarthy here to tell you breaking news. Scientists have found an amazing discovery. A meteor was found with DNA of an unknown species. They have checked the samples and performed tests on the DNA and all of the results stated that this was Kimishir DNA, an alien species that is peaceful and nonviolent. After this miracle, the scientists will try to make interaction with the aliens and convince them to exchange innovations with us so that we can improve our world. A special guest is here with us and that is Professor Carter Marks of the Astronomy and Space Foundation."

An aged man with gray hair, light blue eyes, and wrinkles came on the screen and started, Hello, I am Professor Carter Marks of ASF. You have now been told the phenomenal news of the discovery. We will continue to research and try to make contact, but we will need some help. I will be choosing certain people out of the whole United States to join my team of scientists. A few lucky people would receive a letter two days from now saying that they were picked to be in ASF. These certain people will be transported up into the Starcraft IV in space and be recruited. Good luck and have a nice day.

The screen returned to showing commercials. I finished my daily errands and arrived at my house. I studied and paced around nervously, looking at the clock. Two days have passed. I took out all the papers in the mail. I set them on my counter, and began to search through them like a detective—my monthly magazine, thank-you cards, bank notices, insurance letters, and postcards. No ASF letter. My hopes of becoming a famous scientist have been annihilated. My dreams of being up in space have been lost. My luck of making contact with the aliens was gone. My future was dissolved. All I am now is an anonymous citizen, a stranger. I stuffed everything in the trashcan in disappointment and slumped down in my couch in depression. I had an astonishing GPA of 5.0, never missed any homework or assignment in school. I had perfect attendance, took all the AP and honor classes available, and worked my butt off in biology, chemistry and all those science subjects and did extracurricular subjects like community service. I did all that to be accepted into one of the best universities and learn that I was not picked for ASF. I gazed at my glass trophy case full of awards, medals, certificates, and prizes I earned. I felt like I wanted to grab a baseball bat, smash the trophy case, and break all the trophies, and burn the certificates, and throw away the prizes. My frustration soon converted to drowsiness. I stared up at the ceiling and fell asleep.

A week later, I returned home from my university and chucked my backpack near the couch and powered up my laptop. I started to type some documents and essays. As I finished a few, someone pressed the doorbell. I pressed the button on my automatic door and the door opened to three mysterious tall men in trench coats and fedoras covering their faces. The men towered over me and stared down intimidatingly at me. My instincts told me that these weren’t good people. I started to reach the button to shut the door, but one of them stepped forward and gripped my arm firmly. I observed the tall and lean men. Dark, tinted shades obscured his eyes, a straight, blank face regarded me, and suitcases were held by the massive hands of the men.

Are you Mr. Michaelson? one man asked gruffly.

Yes, I am. Who are you? I asked suspiciously.

All of a sudden, one of the men grabbed a small chip and pierced my arm, giving me a strong pinch that made me grind in pain. I started to yell at them but a hand covered my mouth. My eyes started getting heavier and heavier and my body felt limp. It felt like blood was being drained out of me, making me weaker and weaker. My legs couldn’t hold me up any longer, so they buckled. I collapsed to the floor, blacked out, and the last thing I saw was one of the men reaching out to grab me.

Hours later, I woke up to see I was trapped in a pod. Glass covered all sides, but I still had room to move around in. I was in a circular room with many other pods. People were resting in them and shifting around constantly. I thought about the three men at my door. Why did they tranquilize me? What did they do to my house? Why am I here? What is this place? Questions ran through my mind. It was hard for me to move because my body felt frozen. Then I saw some people coming. I closed my eyes quickly and pretended I was dormant. I only opened a sliver of my eyelids to peer at the people. What I could see were scientists in white coats having a conversation. They strolled around, examined all of the pods, took out a clipboard, and jotted down on it. Then they reached me. Their words were muffled, but I could still understand them.

So this is Henry Michaelson, right, Juno? one asked another.

"Sure is, Dina. He comes from Los Angeles and is a student in Clinton Mays University. I viewed his analysis and it articulates that he was one