Here’s a snippet from the first chapter of my stand alone novel, Fool’s Paradise. It’s the tale of an interstellar freelance operative, who is hired to retrieve something of value from a planet which has descended into chaos. Before long, he figures out the job is going to be a lot more complicated than anticipated.
Chapter One – Insertion
There are times and places for reckless fools like me. There always have been, there always will be. Granted, they are often not pleasant times and places. That’s why people come looking for me, or someone like me, and pay so well. I was in one of those places again.
I almost believed a giant hand grasped my CTI capsule and tried to shake me out through a rock wall. The atmosphere of Hemica held little regard for objects that dared to barge their way in at trans-orbital velocity. I would have much preferred a more civilized method of arrival but it was of no apparent concern to the upper reaches of the planet. I knew the reception wouldn’t improve as the air thickened.
CTI stands for covert trans-orbital insertion, its existence a closely held secret that proved useful in getting me to Hemica. I would love to be left alone with the sadistic genius who designed it, a modest selection of sharp surgical tools close to hand.
The display on my pressure suit faceplate declared my altitude to be just below 80,000 meters. The air outside began to sing a high-pitched aria in counterpoint to the kettle drum pounding of the capsule as it crashed through random updrafts of denser air. It wouldn’t be long now.
An agent who wants to arrive with little notice might use a false identity and buy a ticket on a starliner. It’s the least expensive and most often used method. Costlier but faster is a cloaked ship to a remote location.
There are situations which render these techniques problematic. Some planets are suspicious of, or even closed to, visitors. Others possess the sophistication to detect even the best-cloaked ships and enough paranoia to scan for them non-stop. The answer is to hide in plain sight. If I can’t sneak in, I arrive in a spectacular manner disguised as something else.
Step one: procure a suitable asteroid, three to four meters long and one to two meters through the middle. Step two: cut it in half, hollow out a cavity for the CTI. Step three: insert the CTI, one suicidal fool enclosed within, seal the asteroid, and send it on its way.
It’s more complicated than that. I had to select an asteroid that was going my way, in case the planetary government bothers to track the asteroids in its system. It had to be one small enough to not be deemed a threat, or some minor bureaucrat is likely to order it destroyed before it gets too close.
At 40,000 meters altitude, the braking rocket fired in random staccato bursts, designed to slow the capsule while disguised as pockets of gasses igniting as layers of the meteorite ablated away. To conform to that image, the course of the rock jumped around, which added to my already considerable discomfort.
I’d reflected on the haste with which I’d accepted the job, between the moment a plasma welder had sealed the asteroid around me and when I felt the first caress of Hemica’s stratosphere. There’s not much else to do in a CTI capsule. Of course, I would’ve reflected even if I’d been delivered to Hemica in a luxury yacht.
As a break from deep thoughts, I composed bad haiku. One of them went:
Dark wandering stone
Hollow but full of secrets
Seek your destiny…
If you’d like to read more, Fool’s Paradise is available here: Fool’s Paradise