The Robot's Daughter, a mixture of science fiction and fantasy, tells the story of a war between good and evil that rages from the distant regions of the galaxy and to the offices of the world’s most advanced corporation. Caught in the middle, a young woman fights to save those she loves while she struggles with her our terror. The Robot's Daughter is a stand alone novel although it is the second book in the Shaman Gene series. It is a nominee for the 2015 Global Ebook Award
Uriel’s hazy holographic image grinned at the officers when
they entered the room. “I’ve got a particulate signature.”
They approached him. The ghostly forms of the bridge and
its staff filled in around them.
Uriel pointed to the alien craft’s image on a monitor. “It’s
a class A freighter.”
“Verg?” Kale’s forehead wrinkled in disbelief.
Yanitur’s lips curled up in a half snarl. “Their modus
operandi, but how are they here?”
The Vergish empire, broken by AGS over five millennia earlier,
existed today as ragged bands of pirates that preyed on underdeveloped cultures
beyond the borders of AGS control, cultures like the early Nuclear Age planet
“We’ve got a good trace on him now. From the pattern, it’s
certain he’s monitoring the inhabited planet,” Uriel said.
Yanitur clicked his tongue against the inside of his cheek,
making a popping noise. Scattered chuckles broke out across the bridge,
relieving the tension.
Yanitur cleared his throat. “Okay, folks, it’s our job to protect
this sector of the galaxy. Let’s shake him down.
“Feed the view of the solar system to the screen here.”
The dark void above the observation deck burst with pulsing
reds and oranges that winced Yanitur’s eyes into slits.
“Geez, Uriel,” Kale said, raising his palm to shade his
eyes. “You could have phased that in.”
Uriel groaned. “Sorry, guys, forgot about your biological
The wagon slowed. Its headlights came on. Katiri stood
next to it. She pulled a wrench from the wagon’s tool tray. The driver turned
toward the scraping sound. The wrench blurred in an arc and crashed against his
skull. He was flung across the seat and onto the vehicle’s floorboard. His foot
hung out the side and twitched.
The cart rolled on.
Unaware of the driver’s fate, Curly pointed to the escape
module and urged, “Let’s go.”
They pushed past the girls and ran to the chute. The Dark
One held a light. Curly’s fingers fumbled over the keypad while Dark One read
the access code from a tattoo on his inner arm.
Wrench still in hand, Katiri stood behind them.
The sun’s early rays cast the hills in hazy silhouette,
leaving the valley with its gash blanketed in the puddles of night.
Three days of fasting left Derek Runningbird weak. He laid
his fire drill by the kindling and stopped to rest. The first rays of early
dawn warmed his cheeks, breaking the night’s chill.
Best do it now, he thought, before the Sun’s
light strikes the Earth’s wound.
To the north, the morning rays lit Toad Mountain, the
place of the sacred canyon, home of his guardian spirit, Panther Woman.
A hum, a chanted prayer, gathered in his throat and rolled
off his lips to the cadence of an imaginary drum and hardened his determination
to combat the monstrosity.
He turned his head fast, skimming unfocused over the
terrible slash, and brought his eyes to rest on a nearby canyon.
Last night, a
miracle, the descent of two star children, one into the canyon, another farther
He slid up in his seat and peeked out. Grains of sand and
scratches on his windshield sent needles of light knifing in all directions,
fragmenting the world like a shattered mirror. The scream that had awakened him
ended. He listened. Mesquite leaves and grasses fluttered softly.
Was it the dream?
He peered through one clear spot in the corner of his
He slid gently to the passenger side and peeked through
the side window. He looked out at every angle, but the mesquite disrupted his
At last, he leaned his head back against the top of the
seat and took a long deep breath. At least his stomach felt better. The
nightmare had ended. His thinking seemed clear now. He started to exhale a long
Beyond the mesquite bramble came a shallow gasp. Derek
closed his mouth and slid his body down in the seat. Several more gasps came in
rapid succession. The hair on his neck tingled.
He turned his head in tiny increments toward the sound.
The mesquite branches swayed in the breeze, allowing an occasional view. The
sparkle of chrome broke through and then disappeared again. The branches
parted. A sky blue fender showed through.
Now he heard gurgling, like water sloshing out of a
Now a human shape dressed in black showed, here and there,
between the branches while it moved back and forth beside the blue car.