Ripped Genes

Science Fiction & Fantasy

synopsis

Synopsis

Mission specialists on revolutionary research hospital ship Chiron seek a cure for Earth’s remarkably strange alien pandemic. On their way to a distant planet, they must deal with tricky aliens, weird wildlife, and science gone awry. When they follow their map to meet the aliens of Fabar, unimaginable problems arise. Bits of humour are blended into darker matters that must be taken care of on a pulse-pounding planetary adventure to forge relationships with aliens who might have answers Earth needs. How do they deal with the dilemma of clones who shouldn’t be, but are essential for the success of their medical mission? How can they save one who doesn’t want to be saved? *You can fully enjoy this book if you haven’t yet read the origin story, Earth and Beyond: MedSci Missions 1.

bio

Author Biography

My fiction writing brings together years of science studies, work in heath care, and training and assistant teaching as a black belt in karate. After reading stacks of science fiction in my youth, I was inspired by space adventures such as Star Trek and medical thrillers by Dr. Robin Cook. Before publishing Earth and Beyond, I had articles on art and science fiction published in print and on-line magazines and served as editor for a newsletter/magazine for several years. Selling fantasy art and approved paintings and products related to the Canadian Musical Ride prepared me for doing some graphic design for fellow visual artists and for my own novel cover and ads. In my town in New Brunswick, Canada, I run a writing group, am a literacy volunteer at school, and enjoys gardening, creative cooking, yoga, photography, kicking back to good movies and shows, and, of course, my family.

website

Author Insight

Seasoning the Writing

A change from fall to winter means a drastic switch in my lifestyle; from working the earth to full writing mode. With the advent of crunchy crystals on frozen plant stalks, I look away. I turn inward and create my own reality, which I work hard to share with all of you; imagining, drafting, and massaging text for others to enjoy as flakes fall mostly unnoticed. With so much dark in the day, my work hours get wonky. Day or night, snow or sleet, it doesn’t matter – my world is now coming from inside. In the real world, nature is the one in control, but writing gives one that same power. The weather is whatever you make it. In my novels, old Joe is the one with that power. Is he a lowly maintenance man, or a god? Does he revel in the power or is it a chore he churns out? Considering he stand silently in the centre of his creations you might conclude the former; or is he just taking a “smoke break?” Enjoy imagining taking control of the environment, and turning frigid to sunny in a blink. Most of us can’t fiddle with physics, but in our own minds we control all. You can think away cold thoughts and be sunny.

Book Excerpt

Ripped Genes

Blissfully unaware of the dangerous plan for the ship that was brewing, Ramone looked at his watch and tensed up. It was an hour until karaoke time. His ship-mates would expect a new song or few as well as their previous faves. He’d better pick one and practice up. This was getting a bit crazy. If he didn’t show up, he’d get calls entreating him to go, and they wouldn’t stop until he did. Admittedly, once he was there and into it, it was great; but this really was eating into his time. Well, no point in wasting more of it, he’d better get to it. He put aside his work and called up the music files. This was the fun part, going through songs and choosing one. To save time he called up only ones by the artist he’d aligned himself with. That’s what the audience wanted anyway. Luckily, there was a huge selection. He picked one and tried it out. Some of his Panamanian-Spanish accent remained, he knew, but people didn’t seem to mind. The karaoke machine in the lounge took the vocals out of songs, so singing along to the original artists at home was his chance to practice the inflections. Though the lyrics flashed in front of him in the performance, it was better to memorise the words. There was some agony and longing in this song, so to get the tone right he thought of how he wished he could be at home in the mountains of Panama, where water was pure and the weather was perfect.

His Parents’ house was on the top of a huge hill, with a view to die for. He could picture the lush garden, orange trees with juicy fruit for the picking, and the majestic mountains in the backdrop. His Affenpinscher dog, his dear shaggy little friend Enmarañado, must be missing him so much. That did the trick, all right, real raw craving entered his voice. The nuances were there he knew, he felt at one with the soulful piece. The only thing left to take care of was how nervous he felt when he thought of the crowd that had grown astronomical. They never took their eyes off him, staring up at the karaoke stage in anticipation of a splendid, much needed diversion from the daily pressures to solve the world’s problem with their research. He had a sudden urge to take a walk in the hydroponic garden.

Stepping into the decorative food and medicine production facility, he got a shock. Winter stretched forever in the garden, though Ramone knew the size was only an illusion. For some reason the computer or maybe old Joe had snow slashing down at a fierce angle as wind beat a brave black bird. Strange, he thought.
“Bug killing phase,” a voice said out of nowhere.

Startled, he turned and found Joe standing like a statue, covered in an inch of snow. He wore no jacket. Ok, this guy was just weird. Weird but wonderful.

“Ah,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I was hoping to get a little relaxation from the normal atmosphere in here.”

“Don’t worry. Spring’s coming.” He pushed a button on his controller. Instantly, the freezing and sleezing stopped. Plant covers were lifted to the ceiling, along with the thin layer of snow. Ramone was astounded to see the plants were all right.

“Insulated,” Joe said simply, and walked off to take care of things.

Ramone couldn’t quite fathom the scientific point of all that. Maybe Joe just liked snow.