Revelation on Dekon 6: The Odyssey Affair 1, #1

By Michael Hearing

When first appearances turn out to be wrong . . .

 

What happens when a far-flung mining expedition with an element of space exploration becomes a harrowing tale of survival and escape? Find out in the first brief novel in the series The Odyssey Affair, deftly blending science fiction, fantasy, and suspenseful thriller.

 

Metallurgist and Mine Engineer, Second Class, Franklin Collier gets a lot more than he bargains for when he signs up for a surlenium mining job with Stellar Metals, Inc., on Dekon 6. In fact, almost nothing is the way it seems, it turns out.

 

Franklin and the rest of the crew are supposed to be collaborating with the elegantly humanoid and highly advanced Dekonians in this mining venture. Lieutenant Jacobs thinks the Dekonians have a perfectly Utopian society. But something is amiss.

 

For there are the inexplicable, ape-like Loksi who are either deadly dangerous or seeking to aid them and who seem to have been coerced into serving the Dekonians. After a mine disaster, some of these Loksi either capture or rescue Franklin and Sheila Jenkins, Assistant Director of Metallurgical Studies.

 

From there, it's all a matter of figuring out exactly what is afoot on Dekon 6, why they can't contact the ship, the Odyssey, and what their next move should be. Did the mining crew need to escape? Could they? Slowly, inexorably, events unfold moving toward a revelation on Dekon 6.

 

Take this suspenseful, revelatory ride in the first book in the science fiction series titled The Odyssey Affair – a brief first contact and exploration science fiction novel. Read it, that is, if you aren't afraid to have your assumptions shaken.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Hearing
• Release date: May 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224460526

Michael Hearing

Michael Hearing lives on a few acres in northeastern Oklahoma with four ferrets, three horses, four dogs, one cat, and one wife. He is a former college-level English teacher and writing tutor, a former newspaper columnist, a published author, and a freelance web copywriter. And he grew up reading Robert E. Howard and Jack London. Like many other authors, Michael tried his hand at a lot of things before settling on writing, gathering a wide range of experience suffered through and drunk to the (sometimes) bitter lees. He even spent a few years as a PRCA rough-stock contestant (bareback horses and bulls). So he knows what he is writing about. Though Michael didn’t have a lot of success in rodeo, he was a keen observer and recorder of these rodeo experiences. For instance, he was present (after missing out his bareback horse on that night) in 1979 at the Palestine, Illinois, rodeo. And there on that night, he watched Denny Flynn go 98 points on Steiner’s bull Red Lightning. It’s from a trove of memories like this that Michael has drawn to create his realistic, un-put-down-able rodeo novel Ride On.

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THIS BOOK IS A WORK of fiction. The characters, situations, organizations, and places depicted here are nothing more than inventions of the author's imagination. If anything in this story resembles real persons, places, or institutions, it is purely the result of coincidence.

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Chapter 1

They saw the searing flash of light, felt something large and unyielding smash into them, felt the shuttle skew sideways, heard the alarms and panicked announcements hammering through the communicom.

Franklin Collier had not bargained on this at all.

The approach to and locking into orbit around Dekon 6 had been about as routine and uneventful as it could get. That's what Franklin was told anyway as he exited his cabin and joined his fellow crewmates processing toward the shuttle bay. He had spent the previous hour or two lying on his bunk trying to sleep. Mostly, though, he’d wound up willing the growing rash on his right ankle to stop itching and then, failing miserably at that, scratching the ankle raw. It had hurt more than a little when he pulled on his company-issued atmosuit and then even more when he hit the auto-tighten button on his surface boots just before boarding the shuttle.

These were all routine acts in preparation for another unexciting landing on another dreary planet. It was after that, on the descent in the shuttle, that things went wrong and got . . . well, interesting.

When Franklin had come out of his cramped cabin – these tiny, sharp-angled, sparely furnished metal boxes had been advertised as amenity-filled, fully customizable personal living quarters – he did what he always did. When the cabin door hissed into place and locked with a barely audible snick, he whipped his head around and stared at it for a second. All these subdued hisses and whooshes – they grated on the nerves. Everything on this ship, Franklin had decided, had something of a sinister sibilant sound in it.

And then his mind turned to all the vague, abstract names, initials, and acronyms. These really drove him crazy, but the manual was full of them. Cleaning your cabin – and, yep, there were scheduled times when this was mandatory – was called Quarters Adjustment Period, QAP, which was pronounced cap. Now, wasn't that cute? Queuing up to get on the shuttle was termed Boarding Protocol for Descent and Planetary Landing, BPDPL. A mouthful of ugly consonants for sure. And so it went. On and on and on.

And then there was the company itself, Stellar Metals, Inc. They paid well, but you had to sign away five years of your life to hit the better pay levels – and that five years didn't include travel time to and from the planet job sites. They were also pretty ruthless when it came to dealings with indigenous life forms. But with two ex-wives and three kids, Franklin considered himself lucky to have this job.

Still, it was a soul-suffocating job with all the restrictive regulations and the boring drudge work and the long hours confined on the inter-stellar transit ship. But it was what it was, and he had only two more years to go on this stint. Franklin was, though, far away from that terrifying woman who had come dangerously close to becoming his current wife.

At least Stellar Metals had deep pockets, thanks in large part to huge World Federation subsidies, and seemed to spare no expense on safety measures. Anyway, Franklin had degrees in both metallurgy and mine engineering and so was, most of the time, tucked away in a lab far from the actual mining operations. That's why this event on the shuttle ride was so startling.

On the way down to the shuttle bay, Franklin had tried, once again, to strike up a conversation with  Sheila Jenkins, Assistant Director of Metallurgical Studies and also way out of his league. So, Ms. Jenkins – he emphasized the Ms. By pronouncing it as a protracted Mizz – whaddaya think we're gonna find down there?

She raised an eyebrow, fixed him with a cold look, and said, stiffly, You've read the scouting reports. Same as I have.

Yeah, but – I just – Jenkins lengthened her stride on those long shapely legs and moved ahead of the small group. Franklin simply couldn't stop himself from staring at her behind. He whistled under his breath as he did so.

His neighbor, a squat Lethurian he knew only as Frog, elbowed him in the ribs and said, Better forget that, Frankie boy.

"It's Franklin."

Whatever. She's already filed two harassment suits this month. And it looks like they're gonna stick. Just keep your mind on the job . . . like me. Then he grinned. Franklin never could get used to that croaking voice and those fang-like eyeteeth.

Then they all boarded the shuttle, which was almost as big as a small ship in order to ferry all the mining equipment to the planet's surface. After they had strapped in, the red light came on, and the raucous, clanging warning bell sounded. The bay depressurized, and they slid silently sideways out into the void. Franklin had the bad luck to be seated just behind Jenkins, her auburn hair capturing his sight and her scent filling his nose. Soon, they unstrapped and assumed more relaxed postures in their seats.

The shuttle pilot, a certain Lieutenant Jacobs, fresh faced and on his very first mission with the company, appeared before them holding a stack of miniature e-readers. He assumed his very best stilted tone of command and declaimed: Okay, men – and, uh, ladies, of course – we are, as you know, now on our way to Dekon 6. We anticipate the atmospheric entry and touchdown to take place without incident. Then, in accordance with established procedure, we'll begin the task of setting up base camp. Upon completion of that, we'll implement the company-mandated . . .

And so it went till he wound down at the end of this part of his harangue. He'd lost most of them anyway. Eyes glazed over, feet shuffled, and bodies squirmed in seats.

So