I Love Dialogue Full Measure - Again

Ralan and Daphne finally meet and are immediately attracted. So much so, they give in to their passions without thinking. Ralan realizes, too late, that being with her could compromise his case, but he finds it hard to care. He also realizes he must tell his Captain, Jeff Givens, what's happened.

Givens and Ralan went to the Captain's office. One of the office assistants brought in coffee and a platter of bagels, donuts and pastries. Ralan thanked her, Givens more or less ignored her, though he nodded slightly in her direction as she served him.

"So, who do you think these schmucks are?"

"No idea. I'm not even sure who all the players are, Jeff."

"Then we need to find out asap. I can't have my best agent looking over his shoulder."

"I always look over my shoulder." He sipped his coffee and took a cherry danish.

"I meant more than usual. Being paranoid's kept you alive a long time. You sure no one followed you to Ian's?"

"No. I watched for a tail, but that means nothing. I didn't hide my plans, Jeff. What puzzles me is how they knew I was back."

"Maybe they didn't. Maybe they were breaking in for some other reason."

"Armed for bear? Not a casual break in. They were after me. Maybe Daphne too."

"Why would they think she was there?"

Ralan sipped his coffee, refusing to answer.

"Tell me." Jeff Givens wasn't a man to back away from confrontation. He dogged a bone better than anyone, including Ralan.

Not feeling like arguing, Ralan leaned forward, arms on his thighs. "I messed up."

"Meaning you compromised our case by misconduct with the woman?"

Closing his eyes, Ralan nodded. Givens didn't speak for a long time. Ralan could hear him breathing. He could almost hear the older man thinking.

"Ralan, did I ever tell you about the time I had a beautiful personal assistant I was protecting? Her boss was up to his ass in some crazy scheme and she made the mistake of doing her job and told him about some irregularities she'd found."

The younger agent sat quietly. Jeff didn't want a reply. Ralan waited.

"I was about your age, and they gave me this. My first witness protection as lead. We were stuck in a cabin deep in the woods. Just us two. Had some guys running patrols, but it was just us for over a week. We were bored and scared as hell we were gonna die. . . . I took that girl to bed. Damn near ruined my career."

"What saved you?"

"I had a boss who'd been in the same situation and made the same mistake." He paused, eyes on his desk. Glancing up at Ralan, he folded his hands in front of him. "Can you promise me this is the only time this will happen?"

Ralan looked away, unable to lie to his boss. "I'd love to tell you that, Jeff. I'm not sure I believe it."

"Good, cause I wouldn't either. If you'd given me a guarantee, I'd of pulled you off so damn fast your nuts would spin."

"You could still do that."

"I'm reserving that right," Givens replied. "This goes no further."

"Romy knows."

"Who's he gonna tell? Me? If I pull you off, I have to give a reason. Do you think I want to answer questions like that? Do you?"

"No, sir."

"Damn Skippy, no. Keep it in your pants, Agent Hendrix. Get a hobby. Needlepoint is relaxing."

"Yes, sir." He stood, knowing he'd been dismissed. "Thank you, sir."

"Kid, we all make mistakes. If I canned every agent who had an inconvenient itch, I wouldn't have a team."

© 2015 Dellani Oakes

To Buy Dellani's Books

Notable Narrative - Indian Summer Shark Attack!

Sometimes, it isn't just dialogue or a steamy love scene that captures the interest. This particular scene is one I wrote when I first started Indian Summer nearly 20 years ago. I began the novel, but couldn't capture Gabriella's voice. Discouraged, I put the notebook in a drawer and left it. One day, I was cleaning the drawer and found the notebook once more. I read through it, discarding most of it as crap, but this scene, I kept. I found Gabriella's voice in this scene and was able to begin again. This scene is almost word for word what I originally wrote.

The ocean felt blood warm and comforting. I hadn't realized how much my body ached from my new activities. The tension of the last few weeks washed from my body as the water closed over me. It buoyed me up, letting me float gently on the waves. I closed my eyes to the bright morning sun and rested. I didn't realize how far I drifted, for the tide was going out. I heard a noise, a shout from the beach and looked up. I was much further out than I intended and began to swim slowly back in.

Before I saw what was happening, a man dove into the water and swam rapidly past me. It was not until then I saw the fin on the water. Shark! I could formulate no other thoughts but the horror of that image, that word. I had seen people attacked by sharks, their bodies torn and bloody, bloated from the water they died in. I swam for my life as quickly as I could. The man met the shark not far from the shore. I scrambled out, running to my clothing. I had the ridiculous notion that it would somehow protect me. There was a battle going on in the waves, but I couldn't see it clearly. The man raised his knife, the sun glittering off the blade. He brought it down on the shark again and again with a dull, liquid thunk. Blood was everywhere, but whether it was his or the shark's I didn't know.

Forgetting my clothing for the moment, I grabbed my knife. Foolishly, I dashed back into the water as man and shark dove under! I couldn't see either of them, just blood on the waves. A small ripple where they went down was the only other thing visible. Suddenly, the water beside me erupted as a huge shark leapt out of the water not five feet from me! I screamed, frozen to the spot. I saw the knife in its ugly, brutish head, between its eyes. It was fighting fiercely, despite numerous stab wounds.

Clinging to it stubbornly was a man. Sailfish! He was covered in blood, slipping from the shark's hide. The vicious beast gave a last squirm as the life left it. It shivered once more and died. Sailfish drew his blade from it, racing toward me.

"Run!" He yelled.

I was stupefied, I couldn't make my legs work. I stood there naked and dripping, too terrified to move.

"Run!" He yelled again. "Gabriella, get out of the water!"

Before he finished speaking, I saw the fins racing toward all the blood, toward us! I turned and ran, splashing and flailing to get to shore. He caught up with me, righting me as I fell. Impatient at my lack of speed, he lifted me out of the water, carrying me to the sand. His long legs covered the distance in less time than it takes to tell of it. I stared in shock and horror as the dead shark danced crazily in the water, the others tearing its carcass to pieces in a horrific frenzy! A scream threatened to erupt from my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Gradually, the furor died down and the sharks swam away. Nothing was left of the dead one. I sank to my knees, retching. I had not eaten yet that morning, so it was dry heaves. Sometimes that's worse than actually vomiting. I became aware of strong hands helping me sit up, of the same hands dressing me like a baby and the muscular arms around me, holding me while I cried.

All the sorrow, anger, and fear that had built in me since the night of my capture, came pouring out in a flood of tears. I felt so safe in his arms. I clung to him, weeping as if my heart were broken. He held me, rocked me, and stroked my hair, all the while speaking in low monotones. None of it made sense to me for he spoke in his own tongue, but the flow of the words and the tone were comforting. I cried a long time, finally coming to a stop. He continued to hold me, giving me his comfort.

Soon, however, the touch changed, I felt the comforting become a caress as a lover would touch his beloved. I don't know why, but I felt a tingling sensation for the first time since we met. He was so strong, virile, warm and so alive. He stopped rocking me, but continued to hold me, turning my tear-streaked face gently to his. I gazed into his jet black eyes, lost in their depths. His strong jaw was working, trying to hold the emotions in. I felt his manhood pressing against me and faltered in my resolve.

God help me, I loved Manuel! How could I dishonor him by kissing another man? Even as I thought this, Sailfish lowered his lips to mine and kissed me with a passion not even Manuel had equaled. I melted into his embrace, his lips locked with mine, his tongue probing my mouth. I burned inside, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird. I felt swept away as if the ocean waves had carried me off into the water once more. Wave after hot wave coursed through my body. He touched me all the places I knew he shouldn't, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to stop him. I was so tired of fighting desire, sick of saying no, weary of being proper.

I believe I would have allowed him to continue had we not heard shouts coming from on the mound. There was a ruckus on the river side of the island. Reluctantly, he let go of me, turning to the lookout. Sailfish called out to him, demanding to know what was wrong. I couldn't understand his answer, for they spoke in their native tongue. Sailfish all but dumped me on the sand as he rose and ran toward the camp, shouting as he went. I gathered myself up running after him, curious and afraid all at once.

© 2015 Dellani Oakes

ToBuy Indian Summer

I Love Dialogue from Full Measure

Daphne Winstead is a young, struggling accountant who specializes in forensic accounting. When she's hired to track and catch and embezzler at a local mental health facility, she jumps at the chance, little knowing that's she's stumbled into something far bigger than she anticipated. Not only has she made several people in the office hate her, she's apparently being followed.

Daphne didn't see it follow her to the Super WalMart a few blocks from her home. She'd decided as soon as she walked outside, she needed some warmer clothing. What she had was good for cold in Mississippi. For this far north, not far from the Canadian border, it wasn't sufficient. She didn't have a lot to spend, but could afford a few things. Most important was a heavy coat and a pair of boots. Snow was forecast for the coming week.

After selecting her clothing, she did her grocery shopping. She was low on milk and coffee, among other things. She picked up a deli friend chicken meal for her dinner. Walking out of the store, she searched for her car, having gotten turned around in the store. She spotted it across the lot from where she stood. She'd gone out a different door from the one she came in. Taking a deep breath, she struck out for her vehicle, shivering in the gathering chill. Moisture touched her face and she glanced up at the sky as she passed a dark SUV. It sat in a parking space with the motor running.

"Snow? Really?" Daphne sighed.

The windows of the SUV were tinted, but she suspected someone was inside. Paying it no mind, she loaded her groceries and put the cart in the nearby rack. Carefully, she headed home. Not used to driving in this type of weather, she was unsure of herself. Karen had grown up here, maybe she could give her some tips.

At her apartment building, Daphne carried her groceries to her apartment and unloaded them quickly. Her chicken went in the oven to crisp, the rest in the microwave. She poured herself a glass of wine and settled in the living room with her food.

Outside, the SUV sat idling in her parking lot. A large black man sat in the driver's seat. Beside him sat the man in black leather. Dark, brooding eyes gazed up at Daphne's window. He couldn't see in, but that didn't stop him from seeing her. Right now, she was probably curled up on her couch watching TV. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but somehow it made sense.

"We gonna sit here all night?" The black man asked him.

The other man didn't answer right away. Instead, he twirled his finger. The driver put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot into the gloomy storm.

"What's this girl done? She looks totally harmless, man."

"Nothing."

"Then why we spending our time watching her?"

The dark haired man shrugged, shaking his head. Pinching his lower lip, he gazed out the window at the thickening snow flurries.

"Well, I need a drink, dammit," the black man said. "I'm freezing ass."

"You're wearing a heavy coat, the seat's heated and the heat's on high," a man in the back seat said, his British accent strong.

"Shut up, man. I'm from Florida. This is fucking cold!"

The Brit and the dark haired man chuckled. "Pussy," they said in chorus.

The rest of the trip took place in silence. The SUV turned in at Kelley's parking lot.

"You two go in without me. I have to make a call. Get me a coffee," he said as they got out.

"American or Irish?" The Brit asked.

"You seriously have to ask that question, what kind of spy are you?"

Laughing, the men walked off. The dark haired man made his call and joined them a short time later.

"Feeling better?" The Brit asked.

The dark haired man shrugged as his coffee was served. Thanking the waitress with a smile, he sipped it. Hot, creamy and enough whisky to stop a horse. Closing his eyes, he let the hot, stinging beverage trickle down his throat.

"You gonna tell us what this is about?" The Brit asked calmly, sipping his scotch.

"I told you. Nothing. Don't worry your pretty head about it, baby," he said as if he were talking to a particularly obtuse woman.

The British man punched him in the shoulder.

"Hey! You nearly spilled my coffee!"

"Oh, precious, you'll manage," the British man said, batting his eyelashes.

"Y'all are a couple fruits," the black man said sourly. "Act like girls. You two gay for each other?"

"Because you're new to the team and don't know us," the British man replied quietly. "I'll let that slide—this time. Say it again, and pieces of you will go missing."

"You ain't right," the driver said. "Neither of you."

"You don't like it, go back to Miami," the dark haired man said.

"St. Pete," the black man corrected. "I can't go back. Too damn hot."

"Temperature?" The man in leather asked.

"Cops. One too many bodies disappeared in Alligator Ally. Got suspicious." He shrugged.

The two white men exchanged a meaningful look. Nodding, they took a sip of their drinks in unison. The black man watched, shaking his head.

"Nope, y'all ain't right."

© 2014 Dellani Oakes

To Buy Dellani's Books

I Love Dialogue - Checkmate

I'm especially pleased with this book. In 2009, I finished my NaNoWriMo novel, The Ninja Tattoo, early and got an idea for another book. I started on it Thanksgiving afternoon and finished it in four days. In addition to my NaNo novel, I wrote Checkmate, another 54,066 word novel. I'm pretty proud of that and I'm pretty proud of the book, too.

Dane Berry is a body building chess champion. He meets Milla Cochran on an elevator at a hotel where they are both staying. There is an immediate connection and they both know it's a matter of timing before they get together. Unfortunately, right after that, things get crazy and there have already been a couple attempts on Dane's life. With the help of the local police and a friendly FBI agent, Milla and Dane are trying to figure out who's trying to kill him and why. This excerpt takes place right after Milla confesses, over the phone, that she's ready to make love to Dane. Cam is one of his bodyguards.

Dane was in agony. Milla had just admitted to him that she wanted him to make love to her and he couldn't act on it. Balling his pillow up, he threw it across the room.

"Dammit!" He tried to control his volume, but realized too late that he hadn't.

There was a knock at the door. Cam peered around the edge of the door. "You okay?"

"My life sucks, if you hadn't noticed."

"Could be worse," Cam said, stepping into the room. "You could be laid up in the hospital, or dead. Of the three choices, I think you've got the best one."

"Yeah, you have a point. And I have the worst case of blue balls I've ever had in my entire life. I've gone longer than this, what's wrong with me?"

"You want the perfect woman and you can't have her yet. It's happened to all of us at one time or another. Time to break out your two best friends," he held up his hands. "Thing One and Thing Two. Open a bottle of Jim Beam and party."

"You have a unique way of putting it."

"It's not a bad thing, you know. Lots of guys indulge on a regular basis."

"Yeah, well. . . . Does it make me a pathetic loser?"

"No, man, cause it's gonna happen. You're only a pathetic loser if that's the extent of your sex life and always has been. Look at Wronski, dude. He's what, a year older than you?"

"Three."

"Okay, so Wronski. He's not even in the game anymore. Poor guy's probably never been laid a single day in his life, and he's playing solo soccer every night so his balls don't turn to concrete."

"Such a nice way of putting it. Thanks for reminding me why we don't have heart to hearts very often."

"Look, kid, I know you miss Grady. You and him have a connection that the rest of us don't have. And that's okay. It isn't always good to get too close to the client. But I consider you like family. My advice, free of charge, whisk that girl off to a wedding chapel, have a nice meal, then go home and fuck all night."

"Thanks, Cam. That's one of the best ideas I've heard."

"Don't get smart-assed, kid. It doesn't suit you."

"I'm serious, dammit. But what kind of a life am I inviting her into right now? Am I doing her a favor to marry the girl and leave her a widow? Could you?"

"No, Dane. I couldn't and I know you can't either. But this won't last forever. Then you can take care of business. Get some sleep."

"I'm gonna try." Dane lay down, flinging an arm across his eyes.

"Night, Dane."

"Night, Cam."

Cam left, turning out the light and shutting the door behind him. Dane knew he and the others would sleep in shifts, having one awake at all times. He felt like a heel keeping them from a full night's sleep.

"I swear," he promised himself. "When this is over, we all go on vacation. They can go anywhere they want and I'm going to take Milla to the Bahamas or Puerto Rico, somewhere lush and tropical." And fuck her brains out, his Id added with a leer.

Being careful not to yell again, he lay on his bed trying to sleep, but it eluded him. Attempting to bore himself to sleep, he reviewed chess moves in his mind. Picturing three different boards, he made moves and counter moves automatically, trying to stump himself.

Concentrating on one board, he started to see a pattern emerge that he hadn't even considered before. He was playing white, the black taking on a menacing aspect in his mind. For some reason, his mind had applied faces to the pieces. He saw himself as the white knight. Milla's face graced the white queen and his father's the bishop. Across the board, glowering at him, Angus McInnis' face was on the black king piece. The anonymous gunman was a rook. They were advancing slowly toward him, leaving him no place to retreat. The faces on the other pieces were hidden in shadow, but the face on the black queen kept flickering at him as if he should know something that escaped him. Sitting up, he broke out in a cold sweat.

"That's it!" He couldn't explain how he knew, but it was finally becoming clear.

Lying back down, he snuggled under the blankets, suddenly cold. This was why they were trying to kill him, he was sure. But how could he prove it? And how could he make anyone, even those closest to him, believe it? Allowing the chess pieces to make their moves, he watched the board carefully, formulating a strategy.

© Dellani Oakes 2015

ToBuy Dellani's Books 

Gone But Not Forgotten

Before there was Lone Wolf, Shakazhan or The Maker, there was Gone But Not Forgotten. Below is an excerpt from this short story in the Lone Wolf Universe. For the entire story, for FREE check out the link.

Tortured winds ripped through the mining camp clinging to the inhospitable cliffs and crags of Saltulle. The hurricane force winds drove the blinding rain in horizontal sheets, stinging exposed skin. At times, the rain turned to sleet capable of sheering flesh from bone. When it wasn't raining, the wicked dessert heat baked a man dry in hours. Scorching sun, torrential rain and gales were everyday fare on Saltulle.

Synonymous with Purgatory in miners' vocabulary, Saltulle excelled in two things: providing the Mining Guild with ores and gems unavailable almost anywhere else and turning out the most experienced miners in the galaxy.

Edmund DuLac and his wife, Mary, had lived for nearly eighteen years. All three of their daughters were born on Saltulle. Matilda was fifteen, Brigette twelve and Amie eight.

Ed went through his morning routine automatically, fixing coffee and waking the girls. Mary hated rising early, but Ed's day began at 0500 each day. He usually had to drag Matilda up too, but the other girls were early risers like their father. Ed made breakfast while Brigette made lunches for three girls and one miner, who could eat as much as all of them combined.

Today was special though. The atmosphere of the small, sturdy house was charged with anticipation. Even Mary and Matilda were up for it was Matilda's first day of work. Ed had pulled a few strings and gotten her hired as a log runner. Her training was over, now she was a full fledged Miner One, lowest rank in the Galactic Mining Guild.

Log running was a relatively safe job for a teenager, for it merely involved going from one base camp to the next and logging their hourly dig rate. This job was done by comunit most places, but Saltulle's environment made communication virtually impossible. Special underground lines were in place for extreme emergencies such as a collapsed face or beast attack, but nothing short of life threatening condoned their use.

Matilda felt awkward in her stiff, new uniform. The khaki colored, ill fitting jump suit; heavy, steel tipped boots, safety goggles, hard hat and gloves were common to all miners.

Ed gazed at his tall, athletic daughter and grinned approvingly. Her sisters giggled at her and her mother smiled her support. Matilda tried to smile, but her nervousness prevented it.

"My baby girl, a miner like her old man. I can't tell you how proud I am, Tilda." Her father clapped her on the shoulder as he would have a son. "Following in her daddy's footsteps."

Breakfast was cleared away and the two younger girls left for school, still giggling. Matilda took her lunch in its insulated thermal box and followed her father to work. She had to check in with the supervisor before starting her day.

The mining supervisor was a man who had known Matilda her entire life. His name was Ivan MacHale, but the girls always called him Uncle Mac. Her father warned her repeatedly to call him Supervisor MacHale and not to slip if she knew what was good for her.

Knees shaking, hat and goggles in her hand, she was given her first assignment. Her lunch and portable computer logs packed securely in a heavy floater cycle, she followed a flashing yellow arrow on her console to Mine Base One, about twenty clix away.

The floater cycle handled like a lumbering elephant. However, it remained stable in all but the most severe weather. Each cycle was equipped with state of the art weather gear so she should have plenty of advance warning before a storm hit.

She was about two clix from Mine Base One when her spine tingled unpleasantly. The hair on her neck rose and her nerves jangled, making her very alert. Curious, she checked her weather report, but saw nothing unusual. It was a calm, clear day on Saltulle. Absently, she noted her relative position on her map and continued to Mine Base One.

It took about thirty minutes to complete her survey and log the numbers. The base was below quota by about twenty percent. Part of her duty was to interview the superintendent and mine leader to determine cause.

"To be honest, Log Runner DuLac, the site is damn near played out." The superintendent, a man named Murdock Pickford, handed her a hand held scanner, showing the most recent scans of the mining site.

Part of Matilda's training over the last six weeks had been familiarizing her with site scans. Even to her meagerly trained eye, something was out of place.

"What's this?" She pointed to an erratic peak in the scan. It was dark purple, jagged and taller than all the rest. Murdock leaned over her shoulder, looking at the scan.

"I don't know, never saw anything like it before."

"Mind if I have a copy of this? Might help out at main base so you don't get hammered on the low productivity."

Superintendent Pickford smiled and copied the files to her log. It wasn't her job to condemn or judge his people. All she did was record the information and take it back for some bureaucrat to peruse, categorize and file. The twenty percent drop could hurt. Miners had lost their ranks for less. Since he didn't particularly want to be busted down to Miner One, he was grateful to Matilda for taking the initiative to add his file to her log, as he was not in a position to ask her.

She left soon after and headed for the next mine base. Her path took her past the same spot where she had her odd feeling, but it didn't return.

For Your FREE copy of Gone But Not Forgotten and other Free Treats look for Dellani on Smashwords!

© Dellani Oakes 

The Maker by Dellani Oakes

In the Maker, I introduce several new characters. Not all of them are human, in fact, most of them are some sort of bipedal alien race. There are others, however, who are just as important, but aren't remotely human. In fact, some of the best characters in the books are the sentient ships. We've already met Styx, Hammer, Anvil and Quick Silver. They are a family unit who have been remarkably helpful to the folk of Shakazhan.

Now, however, a galaxy wide call has gone out and the Timokuan people must respond. The ships are the ones who must carry them to Shakazhan. This scene takes place as the Timokuan prepare to depart. It is customary for the mated pairs to travel, leaving their children for who knows how long, because there isn't any room on the ship for them. Reluctantly, Tianna and Lordvik must leave their family behind.

The final good byes were said and the four of them took the nearest teleporter to the spaceport. Luggage stowed, they tried to make themselves comfortable in their tiny cabins.

Jessia's thoughts turned to the legends she had heard in her childhood of the living ships her people had used. They were said to be operated by tiny, hairy men and carried the Timokuan wherever they need to go. Large and spacious, they could house everyone in comfort, their needs met with a thought.

She looked around at the cold metallic and silicon cabin. Not even the bed she and Acey were to share was homey or comfortable. Despite her efforts, she knew nothing would ever make it feel like home. But it would be where they lived for who knew how long?

Sighing deeply, she sank slowly to the hard, chilly metal chair, her thoughts churning slowly as she felt the engines ignite.

Suddenly, planetary alarms sounded. An attack? Had the Evil Ones come for them? Her training took over and she responded automatically to the klaxon. Grabbing up her weapons, she ran to her duty station. Acey met her there, anxiety in his face, which he tried hard to conceal.

"What is it?" What's happening?" Jessia asked.

"Not sure, but I heard someone say there were ships on the sensors."

"Ships? What ships could there be? Is it the Evil One?"

Acey turned confidently to his new wife, taking her hand gently. "No, Jessia, if it were the Kahlea, we would already be dead."

They both shuddered involuntarily. All they could do was wait, which they did, in silence. A few minutes later, the alarms silenced and a ship wide announcement began.

"Good people, although this will seem a peculiar command, you're to return to the planet, gather your families and come back to the spaceport within the next quarter sun. That is all."

Acey and Jessia turned to one another, stunned. Gather their families and return? Nothing more. Obediently, they met Acey's parents and went back to their house.

In silence, Jessia and Tianna gathered the children's things together, told the servants to watch over the house in their absence and returned to the spaceport. They were surrounded with other dazed and confused people, children in tow.

The skies seemed to part and above their heads was a gigantic, multicolored ship of unknown make and origin. Never had they seen such a vessel. Shocked, no one spoke for a few moments and then the flood of comments began.

"What is this ship? Who mans it? Where did it come from?" The same questions, as yet unanswered, bubbled through the crowd. As if in response to their queries, a large view screen flickered into life high on the main tower of the spaceport, showing the Parva's pale, startled face. Beside him, resplendent in full ceremonial gear, a short, furry person stood proudly, dwarfed only in size by his human counterpart.

"Good people," the Parva began. "My friends and colleges, we're honored today to welcome the Kindred from the planet Iyundo."

Silence echoed from one end of the spaceport to the other. A murmur began, then a thunderous sound of shock. Amazement, horror and consternation rumbled through the assembly. Kindred? Iyundo? These were names from myth, legend, histories older than recorded time and yet here they were in the flesh.

As if having anticipated the noise, the Parva held his hands for quiet. Slowly, the rumble died to a mutter and then silence.

"As unbelievable as it may be, it is true. We welcome the Kindred and ask all of you to make your way to the designated areas of the spaceport for transport to the ship. You'll see the symbol of your units emblazoned above each section. Stand quietly and be patient. This will be as swift as possible. I assure you, you have nothing to fear."

Tianna's face was ashen and she looked ready to faint. Lordvik held her firmly by the elbow, leading her to their designated departure area. The sign of their unit was hanging in the sky above it, blazing orange. Reaching to touch it, Lordvik found his hand passed through it, not even seeming to break the image. It was neither hot nor cold, as if his fingers mere passed through air.

"Do you think it's safe?" Tianna's face showed fear, which she tried to hide from her children.

"I'm sure it's perfectly safe. They could have killed us a million times over by now. They mean us no harm."

"Perhaps they want to lure us on board to enslave us!"

"My love, be reasonable. There are simpler ways of enslaving people. They could have drugged us all by infiltrating our atmosphere with chemicals to make us sleep and then swept us up in one massive motion. No, we're fine, don't fear."

A gentle tingle started on their scalps, working down to their toes. The children giggled happily, holding onto their parents hands. Jessia clutched Acey's hand in both of hers, not noticing that his fingers were going blue. Acey was too fascinated by the process to notice until they were aboard.

They found themselves in a large cargo hold with more of their people around them, equally benumbed. A strange voice made an announcement which they received in silence.

"Welcome good friends. We apologize for taking you so much by surprise, but it was unavoidable. Our attempts at communication were unproductive. We tried to warn you of our arrival. An anomaly of your planet made communication impossible until we were in your atmosphere." There was a short pause and the voice continued.

"Please accept our hospitality. The Sentience has instructed us to transport you to Shakazhan. You'll be taken to the quarters assigned to you. Your belongings have already been brought here and are waiting for you in your state rooms. As your children are such a vital part of you, we have invited them to join you, they'll be well cared for. I am delighted to introduce myself, I am Bellerophon, your ship and home to you for the next few weeks. Welcome."

© 2014 Dellani Oakes

ToBuy the Maker

I Love Dialogue! The Wall of Time - a Lone Wolf novel

The Wall of Time is a prequel to my sci-fi series, which I wrote as my first NaNoWriMo novel in November of 2007. I've edited the passage slightly because I don't want to give any spoilers to books in the series that precede it, but I like this exchange & wanted to share.

Wil's in a tight spot. The Council has hired an assassin to kill him. Valkyrie, is a former lover of his, and takes the contract to protect him, but puts them both in danger. Wil takes her to a safe spot, but has to leave in order to protect her. He goes to a remote planet to visit a spiritual adviser, Abudali. Wil has a weird problem. His daughter, who lives 373 years in his past, is able to talk to him through space and time. He wants to find out how and why. After telling his old friend about it, he waits, impatiently, while Abudali meditates. Finally, the old man returns from his meditative trance.

Wreathed in smiles, Abudali came back to himself, poured a drink of cold water, and sighed contentedly. "Fascinating," he breathed as Wil's annoyance mounted.

"Well?"

"Patience, Lone Wolf. I am still reveling in the delightful talk I've had with your daughter. Hers is an astute mind. She has an amazing clarity of intellect that you sorely lack. It must come from her mother. As does her alacrity of speech and her understanding of the finer points of. . . ."

"All right! Enough of the veiled insults, Abu.” Wil inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly to calm himself. "What does she say?"

"First of all, you are correct. Her mother is Siegra. They live in a time approximately three hundred years in our past. Three hundred seventy-three, as a matter of fact."

"Is the number significant?"

"No way of telling without extensive numerology research. I can do that better with you gone. In any case, she says that she's trying to figure out how she can communicate with you too. It's not common among her people, many of whom have Hindersight, their term for psy powers. Theirs tend to be chiefly connected to precognition. The other powers, we deduce, came from your half of the genetic matrix."

"This isn't telling me what I need to know. How can she communicate with me? How can she know the things she knows?"

"I have no idea."

"Abu!" Wil was frustrated and angry. He wanted to yell and break things. This would serve no logical purpose, but would make him feel one hell of a lot better.

"But her instructor had a thought."

"Instructor? What is she being instructed in?"

"Oh, in Hindersight, of course. I thought she would have told you."

"It's not like we've had time to chat. What does her instructor think?"

"Chyou is of the mind. . . ."

"Chyou?"

"Her—instructor," Abu spoke slowly and loudly as if Wil was slow witted and hard of hearing.

"Chyou is her instructor?"

"That's what I said. Now be still. Sit down, you're pacing again."

Wil had stood in his frustration but hadn't moved from the spot. He sat with great agitation and lit another cheroot. He'd already been through five since this interview started. He began to suspect he hadn't brought enough.

"Chyou is of the mind. . . ." he prompted.

"That it is because you and her mother are from different times. Much as a man can freely travel within his lifetime, given the right instruction and correct set of parameters. . . . You know, that's an interesting phenomenon. I have been. . . ."

"Abu," Wil's low, quiet growl was more ominous than his shouting.

The old hermit cleared his throat and continued. "Be that as it may, we know that time travel along one's own lifetime is possible. It's been done, it's history. However, you may not be aware that it's been speculated that a man can travel through the lifetime of his parents. The actuality is theoretical at best. Outrageously incomprehensible at its worst.

"But," he held up a hand to stay Wil's protests, "we think that is why she is able to do this. She has been given the parameters of both her mother's lifetime and your own. Because of the disparate times you come from, she has much more leeway than a normal individual. And your daughter, Lone Wolf, is far from normal. She redefines psy powers. She's rewritten laws of contact! This should not be able to happen, but it is. Chyou thinks that's because no one ever told her it wasn't possible."

"So my daughter, whom I've never met, can contact me across space and time just because it's theoretically possible and she doesn't know she can't?"

Wil didn't know if he should jump for joy or punch the old man in the nose. He chose to remain sitting down and not react violently for the moment. He wasn't happy either way.

"Do you have any idea how confusing this is? You're talking about seventeen steps from reality. I have an open mind, Abu, but even I am struggling with this."

"Wil, I have made it as simple as I can. Perhaps you'd like the scientific lecture?"

"Is there one?" Wil asked hopefully.

"No, not really." Abu replied offhandedly. "Nothing in science can explain this. I'm truly sorry I can't make it easier to understand. I would if I could. You daughter did what any child would do, she thought of you. Because of her enormous psy power, she was able to make contact."

"And some of this comes from me? A man who never had any psy abilities, no training. . . . I'm a dumb grunt, Abu."

"Far from it, Wil." The old man was quiet and serious now. Gone was the flighty behavior, the eccentric mannerisms. "We both know the Marine doctors did incredibly intrusive things to your body. What we don't really know, as we haven't explored, is what they did to your mind."

© 2014 Dellani Oakes

To Buy Dellani's Books

The Lone Wolf Series is Temporarily Unavailable. It will be back sometime in 2016.

I Love Dialogue! from Call Me

Moira Crane is an English teacher at the local high school. She has a strict rule about cell phones in her class and has a padded bin that everyone has to put their phones into before class begins. One day, hers rings, though she thought it was turned off. The students insist she put it in the bin with theirs. Someone steals it. She reports it to the phone company, but also goes to the police. When it turns up at a crime scene a few days later, she finds herself in a sticky situation.

"It wasn't me!" Moira Crane protested. "I didn't do it. I'm not a murderer!"

"We found this at the scene," Detective Rhys Fletcher set an evidence bag on the table. "Your fingerprints are all over it. There are texts made to all the victims, including Amy Sutherland, who still can't be found. Is that your phone?"

She reached for the bag with difficulty, her cuffed wrists making the movement awkward. "It looks like it," she replied once she'd looked at it carefully. The face was cracked and crusted with dried blood. The bright pink case with flashy rhinestones, was distinctive.

"So, you admit it's your phone."

Her dark brown eyes fastened on the police detective. "No. I admit it looks like mine."

"The case is distinctive."

"Any five year old can switch a case. That means nothing. You need to work on your listening skills, Detective Fletcher."

"If it's not your phone, why is it covered in your prints? Why have we picked up your DNA—"

"Wow, you're good," she said, her tone sarcastic. "You got a DNA sample run in less than three hours? Will wonders never cease?"

His jaw tightened, gray eyes turned steely. "Being flippant won't help your case."

She leaned forward aggressively, pleased to see him flinch slightly. "Lying doesn't help yours either. If it's my phone, it doesn't mean I was there. I reported it stolen six days ago, Detective."

He glared at her, but she could see calm resignation in his stormy eyes. "Begin with that," he said quietly.

"Begin with what?"

"The theft of your phone six days ago. Tell me everything up until now."

"Can I pee first?"

Detective Rhys Fletcher rolled his eyes. "Really? Moira—"

"I need a bathroom, Rhys. Badly. I had a latté grande before you unceremoniously arrested me—like a common criminal! The least you can do is let me urinate." She held up her wrists. "Without these, please."

"Moira—"

"Rhys—" Her tone turned dangerous.

"All right. But Officer Simpson is going in with you."

"I distinctly hope that Simpson is a girl, or some other man will see parts of me you haven't."

Angry, she stood up. Fletcher called in a blonde, female officer. Simpson escorted Moira to the bathroom, removing the cuffs once she'd locked the door and checked the tiny window. Moira did her business and washed her hands. The cuffs were back on as soon as the paper towel hit the trash. At least Officer Simpson didn't click them quite as tightly as Fletcher had when he arrested her.

Walking through the interrogation room door, Moira sensed more people behind the glass. Smiling in their direction, she took her seat, waiting for Rhys to collect his thoughts. He repeated his demand.

Sitting as comfortably as she could in the hard, metal chair, Moira began. "Six days ago, my phone was stolen. . . ."

© 20114 Dellani Oakes

To Buy Dellani's Books

I Love Dialogue! Something New

I wrote Something New in four days in June. I got an idea and ran with it. Fortunately, the muse was willing and it came easily. I fell in love with Austin. The rest of the characters are also endearing, but I particularly love him. He's an absolute doll.

Austin is an actor on a show that is an Americanized version of Dr. Who, called The Magician. He has a run in with one of the guest directors, a pervy man named Irving. Irv the Perv tries to entice Liat, Austin's new leading lady, to do something unspeakable. Austin intervenes. Irving got fired and is now trying to sue Austin for slander and the network for wrongful termination.

Austin is having lunch with Liat, her mother Elaine (the show's producer) and Dwight, his assistant. They get a call from the God of the Network, and are summoned to the Presence. Austin isn't quite sure what to expect, but it certainly isn't what's waiting for him.

Moments later, a tall, dark haired man with broad shoulders and muscular chest, came to greet them. He trotted down the steps and stopped in front of Elaine, holding out his hands. She took them and he raised her to a standing position. His arms went around her waist, pulling her close, as he kissed her.

"Hello, darling," she said with a smile. "How was Paris?"

"Boring. French." He winked, patting her on the fanny. "You've had some excitement. Hello, Precious." He greeted his daughter with a kiss and hug.

Austin and Dwight stood, waiting anxiously. Liat's father was an intimidating man. He stood over six feet tall. His black hair was shot with silver, his blue eyes penetrating. His voice was a loud and rumbling baritone, laced with a distinctive Oxford accent.

"You've studied Shakespeare," Austin said as he stepped forward.

The man's blue eyes twinkled. "I have indeed, young man. Royal Shakespeare, 1971 through 75. Astute." He shook Austin's hand.

"No one rumbles like a Shakespearian," Austin replied. "Which must make you Gordon Vogel."

"It must, indeed! Gordon Oliver Desmond Vogel, God for short." He turned to his wife, smirking. "You told me he was sharp. Who's your friend?" He held out his hand to Dwight.

"Dwight Wales. He's my personal assistant and good friend."

"Everyone needs those," Gordon said, shaking Dwight's hand. "Friends, I mean. Assistants are a dime a dozen."

"Not good ones," Dwight said confidently. "We go for a dollar a dozen."

Gordon burst out laughing at the silly joke. "I like this one too. Can we keep them, Mummy?" He sounded like a child, directing the comment to his wife. "Sit, everyone. Beverages. Sam-u-el!" He drew out the name like a battle cry.

The windows shook when he called the name. An elderly gentleman in a black suit came to stand by the sunken room.

"You bellowed, sir?"

"Beverages, Samuel. Tea?" He asked the room in general. "Yes, tea. The Oolong."

"As you wish, sir." He bowed, turning his back to the room.

"Great man. Deaf as a post," Gordon muttered.

"I can hear you," Samuel said. "I'm not deaf."

"He's not. I just like yelling. Sit!"

He took a seat beside Elaine, his arm around her shoulders. Liat sat next to Austin, gripping his hand.

"You've been busy. Mummy tells me you've been masquerading as a Fogleberg." He tipped his head, narrowing his eyes, but his smirk gave him away.

"Are you mad?"

"Why ever for? You got the part, didn't you, all on your own merits."

"Yes."

"Then why would I be mad? What's all this crap that's been going on with my network in my city? What's that annoying pimple of a man doing now?"

"He doesn't mean me, does he?" Austin whispered to Liat.

"No, silly. Irving."

"He's saying Austin insulted him and called him names in public," Elaine explained.

"Did you?" he directed at Austin.

"No, sir. Unless he's a mind reader."

"Mind reading," Gordon waved it away, making a rude noise. "Very hard to prove in court. What did you do to make Irving so angry?"

"I took Liat to my trailer." He held up a hand before her father could comment. "I'll rephrase that. Pervy Irv was bothering Liat. Rather than see her karate chop his flabby arse, I took her with me to my trailer. We ate dinner, studied our lines and she went home. He didn't like that I showed him up." He shrugged.

"That's it?"

"I called him sir in a snarky tone and did my best to follow his obtuse directions."

Gordon burst out laughing. His blue eyes twinkled merrily. The tea arrived and Elaine poured, passing the sugar and cream after. Once they served themselves, they went back to their conversation.

"After inappropriate snarkiness, what did you do?" Gordon asked.

Austin thought a moment. "Said my lines, hit my marks and nailed the scene."

"Why is the gimpy cretin saying that Austin called him names? Did you call him names?"

Austin shook his head.

"Why's he saying that?" Gordon persisted.

"I flirted with Liat in front of him."

"Did you kiss her?"

"Later. It was scripted," he hurried to explain. "Pants on, I swear."

"Yes, of course." Gordon couldn't keep a straight face. He understood the young man's distress, but he wasn't angry, simply confused. "Then what's he banging on about?"

"No idea."

"Then this is all just stupid, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

Gordon leaned back, running his hand through his hair. "There are people starving in this city and he's trying to raise a stink over something that never happened?"

"Precisely my point, sir."

"Are you sleeping with my daughter?" Gordon shot at him unexpectedly.

"No, sir. I'm not."

"But you'd like to."

"Don't make me answer that one, please. I'm thirty-two, single and she's gorgeous."

Gordon laughed, nodding. "The same thing I said about her mother thirty-six years ago when I met her. Have you had lunch?"

"Yes," Elaine replied.

"Good. Did we have anything else to discuss to resolve this nonsense?"

"We're opting to let it blow over. Babs is setting up interviews and arranging his schedule with Dwight and Sandy."

"Everyone wants you, kid. How does that make you feel?"

"Terrified. It's like being the tenderest steak in the shop. Everyone wants to grill you and have a bite."

"Couldn't have put it better myself. We'll get you ready, no fear.."

© 2014 Dellani Oakes

ToBuy Dellani's Books