Rose & Quail: Prelude to Invasion

By Thomas E. Churchill III and Hanje Park

Enter the Echoes Universe! Rose & Quail: Prelude to Invasion is the first chapter of an all-new Science Fiction space opera from HVN Entertainment.
Set between the 1980’s and 2010, we follow Rose Maxima, a savvy engineer, and Anderson Quail, a brilliant military tactician, in the wake of a sudden invasion by a race of mind-corrupting aliens known as the Gate Crushers.
As their lives slowly converge over thirty years, a government conspiracy unfolds in the background, changing their lives forever in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HVN Entertainment Co. LTD
• Release date: Dec 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9788967843984

Book preview

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Rose & Quail

Prelude to Invasion

Written by Thomas E. Churchill III

for

HVN Entertainment. Co. Ltd. 2023 All Rights Reserved

Full Novel

[2023, October 17th Edit]

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Enter the Echoes Universe 

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Prologue

I

t was a clear black night in San Diego. The summer dawn peeks over the cresting waves of the beach. Through hazy curtains, Captain Leonard Boyd wakes up. Captain Boyd is six-two with a little extra weight around his gut. His face is covered in stubble. He’s awake, yet visibly exhausted. On his night stand is a standard issue semi-automatic field pistol and his badge. He uncurls himself at the window as the workday gazes back at him. The room feels crisp but cramped. It’s unfit for the tough-as-nails Boyd men who were raised to be angry and arrogant. The space is fit for a recovering alcoholic, seven years clean. A calendar on his walls shows that it's April 3rd, 2010.

After suiting up in his work attire: business casual plus light armor, he heads to the kitchen for breakfast: black coffee. Usually he has toast for breakfast, but today he's out and about. No time. Before walking out of his house, Captain Boyd crudely etches BREAD on a magnetic fridge notepad. With that, he's gone out the door and on with his day.

---

A black Mercedes pulls up to the La Jolla Police Department. Captain Boyd exits the car and enters the sterile office building. Later, Boyd sits at his desk as the precinct swirls around him. Lieutenant Dean Hardaway, a thin recruit with a blonde mustache enters in full riot gear. Boyd looks confused as a folder lands on his desk, via Hardaway.

Boyd, What's with the party suit? And what's this?

Hardaway, Mission from Pop. Time to roll out.

Captain Boyd looks at the folder and the images within. They are surveillance photos of a residential house. Within the folder is a dossier on a hacker known as, Vicelord. His government name Isaac Cross can be seen below his alias.

Boyd, What did this nerd do to get Pops’ attention?

Hardaway, That nerd got into the E.S.F. database this morning. He leaked a bunch of shit and installed some malware into the system. Supposedly there's turret and mech schematics already floating around on the dark web. National security risk. 

Boyd adjusts his tie, Close that door.

Lieutenant Hardaway closes the door behind him. Boyd motions to him to come close. 

Boyd whispers, Sounds like more noise just to get people talking for re-election. The people want to save the trees, not to gun down college students coding in their spare time. 

Hardaway, No, they want gun control. 

Boyd, They want the messes clean, but in Pop's words, No more cowboy shit.

Hardaway, Respectfully, fuck what they want. Our job is to protect the people from shit they don't even know they need protecting from. With your permission I'd like to take the lead on this one. The guys follow orders but they fail to see the big picture, I'm afraid. I know that neighborhood the best, so I think I should be in charge.

Boyd takes a final sip of coffee, You don't have to convince me. Look, I know you're eager to climb the ladder, but trust me you don't want to.

Hardaway, But Captain-

Boyd, Lieutenant! Do not raise your voice at me.

Lieutenant Hardaway hushes. Boyd looks at him intensely before walking over to the side of the office. Captain Boyd opens a shelf and pulls out black envelope. 

Boyd, The ESF security system is designed to preemptively increase protections in case of malicious attacks.

Professor Young's security mesh or some shit?

Heh. That shit" is a state-of-the art, artificial reasoning defense system with a vast data matrix to prevent internal breaching. The UN hearing held in November failed to mention Vicelord’s two other successful attempts at hacking the E.S.F. system. One in 2000 and one in 2008. Neither hacks had data leaks but in both instances, the system was deeply corrupted and the incident was swept under the rug. All of that was kickstarted twenty years ago in Arizona. And the trail from Arizona, by some fubar miracle, has winded back to 219 Pine Street, a block away from your wife and parents. A block away from your family, Hardaway! It’s fucked. I can’t let you get too close to this. I can't in good conscience let you run point on a bloody mess that's in the process of imploding into something much worse."

I'm the best in the field. Hardaway points out, They have the skills but not the conviction.

Boyd replies coldly, I know, son. I know.

Hardaway gets quiet, These assholes will gladly keep their head in the sand. Do I have to remind you about my cousin stationed in Scottsdale?

Boyd resigns, You don't.

One month on special duty and his brain is fucking fried! Spiders crawling under his skin all over some E.S.F. bullshit! There's something going on, I know it!

Stand down, Dean! Relax!

Hardaway steps away from the Captain. He points at Boyd’s face, You know I'm right.

Sometimes being right isn’t enough.

Captain Boyd opens the black folder. The air in the room grows cold. The commotion outside the office swarms louder and Boyd takes a deep breath of composure. He shows Lieutenant Hardaway an image of a man's face and brain in various states of melting and decay. Hardaway's eyes widen before he recoils away.

Boyd, Thirteen cites, over two dozen cases. This was in ‘88. Disgusted, Hardaway closes the folder for Boyd.

Exactly.

What the fuck happened?

Overexposure to Sulnat. This is on the far end of the severity spectrum since these men were so close to the minerals. If your cousin experienced what you described, he's probably around a level one of Sulnat sickness.

Then what the hell is that?

"Level three. And this was before we started refining the damn stuff."

Jesus Christ.

That right there. That's not war. That's not politics. That's none of our petty, small-fries bullshit. That's the inevitable, and man cannot defeat the inevitable. Boyd begins to drift away towards the window.

Sir?

Boyd replies solemnly, I'm sorry about what happened to your cousin. However, rushing into the furnace isn't going to do him any good. Even with what I know, it's not enough to keep you, any of them or any of my loved ones safe. Life is kind of like a map. There comes a time when that map expands beyond our understanding. All of our maps are about to be erased, Dean. Completely erased. But, this is what we've prepared for! You are my best man! You may know the area best, but the other fellas need some time up front. Time to put some hair on their chest.

Hardaway concedes, Copy that.

Good! Enough philosophy, Lieutenant. It's time to kick some doors in.

Boyd and Hardaway exit his office and enter the main room of the precinct. Other officers are gearing up for the raid happening shortly. The commotion continues as the swarm of armored officers exit the precinct. On the top-secret intel folder a small code can be seen. On it in small five-point font reads, 01100001 01110010 01100011 01101000 01100001 01101110 01100111 01100101 01101100.

---

Clack. 

Around 7 AM, the light is beginning to crest. On the horizon is a sleepy community of retired surfers, lawyers and real estate agents. This suburban fantasy is lifted away like dew in the sun. Combat boots smother flowers. Armored trucks wait eagerly on the corners of Pine and La Caranda Boulevard. 

219 Pine Street, today's mark, is a white, two-story Victorian, built sometime in the 30's. Paint is chipping off some shutters on the second floor, but it is by no means run-down. If anything, the half-dozen security cameras, pristine garage and sparkling bay windows hint at the opposite. With each careful step, Captain Boyd is drawn to 219 Pine Street like a magnet. 

Clack. Clack. 

Boyd's team is composed of six men in total, including him and Lieutenant Hardaway. Leading the inverted V shaped formation along the La Caranda Blvd sidewalk is Boyd, with Hardaway, wielding a shotgun, to his left and Officer Paco Valencia, with riot shield and pistol, to his right. Behind Hardaway, Officer Craig Newport is wielding a larger automatic shotgun and slightly heavier armor. 

Boyd turns around and looks to Officers Randall James and Ben James, the Twins. The Twins are two Tonka-born linebackers with tribal tattoos creeping out from under their uniform sleeves. The Twins are also wielding shotguns. With a silent wave of a finger, the Twins break off from the inverted V shape and duck into the alleyway behind Pine. As they evaluate the back entrance, Captain Boyd slides near the mailbox in front of the property. Lieutenant Hardaway crosses quietly to the other side of the picket fence. 

Captain Boyd looks to Hardaway and signals with a palm to wait there. Hardaway nods and signals for Valencia to cover him. Boyd looks at the golden 219 shimmering above the door frame. As he looks closer through the fence, he notices the front screen. Clack. The unlatched screen door opens ajar with the wind and shuts again. Officer Newport gets close to Boyd, who flinches.

Boyd motions with his hands for Newport to back up a bit. 

Newport looks confused.

Hardaway, impatient, Space out. Dumbass.

Newport nods and backs up from the Captain. Captain Boyd fixes back on the bay windows and sees a small bit of motion inside. It was too quick to notice. Animal? Person? No way to tell. 

Boyd begins to sweat as the internal clock begins to tick.

Behind the house, Randall (Twin 1) whispers, This is fucked bro-

Ben (Twin 2) hushes his brother. 

An old woman on a rocking chair bobs forward. They both duck down as the old woman rocks in her chair. Her hair is gray and stringy. Cigarette smoke wafts up from a nearby ashtray. 

Clack.

Captain Boyd steps into the perimeter of 219 Pine. He carefully steps past the fence, crossing the invisible line that separates the street from the property. The screen door rattles with a clack once again. The sound is burrowing into the crew’s skull. Boyd looks to Hardaway, then to Valencia then to Newport. With a silent order given, Valencia bolts and crosses into the yard to flank Boyd. Newport scans the other side of the street. He makes eye contact with a Japanese woman, who quickly shuts her window in fear. 

Newport breaks the silence, I just saw-

Everyone hushes Newport collectively. Boyd, demanding silence, raises his fist. He keeps his pistol ready as the screen door continues to clack in the wind.

Hardaway's fingers gently dance near the trigger, eager to fire. Boyd is locked on the screen door. 

Clack. Boyd's muscles tense. The Japanese woman yells out of her front door, What's going on?-

Newport points his shotgun at the woman, Back inside! Now!

The woman cowers back inside quickly. Newport darts his eyes back to the door. 

Hardaway comments, They’ll have your badge for that, idiot.

Newport, Yeah, we’ll fucking see.

Captain Boyd steps onto the porch, leading his gun to fill the gap of the door. Boyd, Police! Is anyone inside?

Behind the house, Twin 2 gets close to the old woman to find her face covered in soot and blood. Her mouth is agape and flies are buzzing in and out. Her wrists have been slit. 

Twin 2 recoils, Fuck. 

Twin 1 looks up, horrified. Twin 2's eyes follow. 

Below the door frame is a rose drawn in blood. He slowly backs up in horror. 

A rusty gray van screeches off violently down the block.  

Twin 2 goes to radio his team on his walkie as he eyes the van. A scream is heard from inside the house.

A woman shrieks in terror upstairs, No! Get back!

Twin 1 rushes inside the house, Police!

Twin 2 stares at the fresh blood dripping off the rose. 

In front of the house, Captain Boyd hears the screams and charges inside the house. Hardaway is quick to follow from across the street. Officer Newport sees Hardaway running and he positions his body in the way then elbows him in the face. Hardaway recoils back with a bloody nose, Fuck!

Officer Newport jogs into the house, flipping off Hardaway as he enters. Hardaway takes a second to compose himself. He turns to notice the Japanese woman laughing across the street. Hardaway stands up, spits some blood on the ground and makes a step toward 219 Pine. 

Chapter

1

Somewhere in West Berlin, 1981.

N

urse Mary, a chubby brunette woman wearing scrubs emerges from a room with bloody gloves. Inside, a commotion is stirring. Two strange men are looking inside the delivery room. They’re watching Dr. Kavan as he calls the shots of this crowded baby delivery. Dr. Kavan is a slender man covered head to toe in medical scrubs. His glasses perch on his nose as he does his best to direct the two other nurses. Everyone present is speaking German.

Dr. Kavan, Time?

The Lead Nurse, Olya Philip, eyes the clock, 18 hundred hours. Ten minutes.

Dr. Kavan, We’re a few hours past schedule, but things are looking good. Portia. You’re doing wonderfully.

Portia Maxima spits into Dr. Kavan’s face. Her husband, Damascus, is at her side watching with a looming but tender presence. Portia is a thin blonde woman who has been in labor for nearly a day. Also inside the room is Yohan Prost, a five-nine German hockey player built like a barrel. There is a palatable tension between Damascus and Portia over Yohan’s presence in the room. Damascus looks like a sailor who has been out to sea for the winter. His large beard has hints of white on the bottom. Yohan, the newest henchman in the group, looks slightly less assured of himself than the others. The uncertainty can be seen in his wide, darting eyes. Outside, his boss Alexi Yauch is watching closely. The goon behind him, Theodore Vlishka, the driver of the crew, puffs a cigarette. Outside the door, the nurse returns slightly cleaned up.

Nurse May, Sir, you can’t smoke in here.

Theodore looks to Alexi for approval. Alexi nods and Theodore puts the cigarette out. Alexi nods for him to enter after the nurse does. The nurse and Theodore enter the room. Damascus confronts Theodore. Dr Kavan lasers in on Portia, who is in the midst of finishing a grueling 9-month process.

Dr. Kavan, Push, Portia.

Portia screams in pain. Damascus shoves Theodore outside. Yohan follows. Portia keeps her eyes on Dr. Kavan. The ice-blue circles don’t blink.

Nurse May, She’s crowning.

Dr. Kavan, Good, this is it, Portia!

Outside the room, Damascus slams Theodore to the wall with a thud. Aleski puts a revolver to Damascus’ head.

Aleski, Ah, ah. Relax. Someone is about to be a father. You don’t want your daughter brought into a world of violence, do you?

Damascus, I told you. I’ll have the money in a few weeks! Leave me and my wife alone!

Aleski fires the gun into the ceiling. Everyone flinches. Inside the delivery room, Portia is the only one who doesn’t. Dr. Kavan freezes from the gunshot.

Portia, Hey! Pay attention!

Outside the room, Damascus eases up. Aleski continues, My friend. You’ve been pressing your luck. Halsan doesn’t like to be tested.

Damascus pleads, I’ve been doing my best. Securities at the office have been tightening up. Eyes are on us after Lviv. I understand Halsan has his concerns, but reckless actions will just slow everything down.

Aleski, Enough! Labor pains from the room distract Damascus.

Damascus, Aleski! I just need some more time. Please. More labor screams.

Time is a luxury Halsan cannot afford. She sounds like she needs you.

I’m sure your wife needs you right now, too. Isn’t it a little late to be doing shakedowns?

Halsan also wants to make sure Portia and the baby are OK. The money is just principle.

How sweet of him. How many does he have, again?

Seven.

Christ. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle one.

Do you have a name yet?

No. That was going to be decided tonight, before you assholes showed up.

Lovely.

What does Halsan care?

Aleski grabs Damascus’ hand. On his palm is a tattoo of an X. Aleski grabs with clear, purified intention while showing him his own X tattoo in the same place.

Aleski, This is a mark of the Brotherhood. You’re bound in blood. Portia lets out a small yell. However, it sounds more angry than painful.

Damascus pulls his hand away. Aleski holsters his gun and prepares to exit. Damascus goes to the window to look at Portia. She looks at him, then away quickly.

Aleski leads Theodore and Yohan to the elevator, One day, Damascus. One day or your family dies.

Damascus watches as they enter the elevator and descend away. Instantly, he’s back inside the delivery room. Damascus grabs her hand.

Nurse May, Almost there.

Dr. Kavan, OK, Portia this is it. Push!

Portia laughs in relief as her daughter is born. Damascus musters up a smile. His face is contorted until Portia is handed their infant. She looks to Damascus and a smile grows on both of their faces quickly.

Portia breaks his trance, She’s beautiful.

Damascus, "Kvitka."

Portia laughs and cries in agreement, "Kvitka. Little Rose."

They kiss each other quickly as the two of nurses slowly work around them. Dr. Kavan takes off his mask with a sigh of relief.

Dr. Kavan, Great job, Portia. Damascus, congratulations. If you need anything, the nurses will take care of it.

Damascus shakes Dr. Kavan’s hand. With a whisper into his ear, Cigarette?

Dr. Kavan nods and they both smirk at Portia.

Portia, Fuck you, where’s my cigarette?

They both laugh as they walk out.

Outside on a fifth-floor balcony, Dr. Kavan exhales. Damascus looks down to see Aleski’s car still parked outside. Theodore is outside rubbing his arms to stay warm. Yohan is in the backseat.

Damascus, Urchins.

Dr. Kavan, It’s not often we get the mob inside a delivery room. We appreciate your patronage, but their presence clashes with our holistic approach.

Right.

Dr. Kavan shows Damascus his palm. There’s a scar from having his X crudely removed by the laser technology of the time, Look. The only way out was through fire and silence. Fire to erase the mark. And silence to keep my ass out of unmarked vans.

And they let you do that?

You should have been born a doctor, not a farmer. Halsan is a tyrant but even the most evil dictators kept doctors around. Thankfully, I’m immune. Doctors are immune to the Brotherhood. It’s an old trick they stole from the Germans. You should consider changing careers. That’s why my son will study medicine, but far from here.

I’m too far in to consider anything else.

Think about Rose.

She’s all I can think about.

Do you have family anywhere? London? America?

Atlanta.

Take them there. The country is in your blood, not under your feet. These men are vultures. Don’t offer them a fresh meal.

Right.

Damascus ashes his cigarette. Dr. Kavan pulls out a flask of vodka and swigs it. He offers it to Damascus, who does as well.

Dr. Kavan takes the flask back, "My father used to tell me a story. A story called the Dog and the Butterfly.