Deadly Void - Ryvenbark's Saga 6
By Gray Lanter
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About this ebook
Armed with an Armageddon bomb, Major Ryverbark and his team are sent to investigate the apparent source of the expanding dark matter, a mysterious planet at the edge of their galaxy that has a strange pattern of orbit, and no apparent atmosphere...
Join Major Logan and his team of intergalactic mercenaries in a thrilling sci-fi adventure, with nail-biting suspense and action, mysteries and unexpected twists, and of course a bending of the limits of space and time in a futuristic adventure ride that pushes the boundaries of the sci-fi genre. Deadly Void is guaranteed to keep you utterly enthralled, from the very first word to the very last.
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Deadly Void - Ryvenbark's Saga 6 - Gray Lanter
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Chapter 1
The crowd roared. You could hear the yells ten miles away. Baseball fans can get rather loud. Especially since this is 1986 and they haven’t won a World Series for more than eight decades.
You gotta love simulators.
The high voltage lights – or I assumed it was high voltage or whatever term used back in 1986 in New York – bathed the stadium on orange-yellow light. New York fans of that day could be rabid and these certainly were. They yelled, stomped, cheered, cursed and did everything but pitch themselves onto the field. I forget whether they served alcohol during the games in 1986 but, due to the noise that sounded like a dozen 747s flying just over your house, the crowd didn’t need intoxicants to get excited, or loud for that matter.
Tenth inning. Two outs. New York Mets batting. One of the classic games in the three hundred year history of baseball. The Boston Red Sox had made it into the World Series. They hadn’t won a World Series since 1916 and wouldn’t win another one until 2004, a year where they again made baseball history when, down 3-0 to the New York Yankees in the American League Championship, they won the next four games in the most dramatic comeback in sports history. It was not just that the Red Sox won four games in a row, as difficult as that is in the sport, but they won four games in a row against an All-Star Yankee squad that had been to the World Series in seven of the last ten years. Or eight. I hadn’t checked the records on that won. Plus about six members of the Yankee squad would eventually be in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Everyone in the nation and every sports writer in the nation were utterly confident the Red Sox had failed again.
I slapped my hand in my glove. The pitcher was Mike Stanley. Tie game. Mets had two men on base. The Red Sox were a strike away from winning. The batter was Mookie Wilson, who had a 2-2 count. Wilson was a good hitter and he had the irritating knack of fouling off pitches he felt he couldn’t handle, which he did in this at bat. Stanley tried curves and fast balls that clipped the edge of the plate. Wilson, not wanting to risk a swing, knocked fouls into the stadium – the crowd holding their collective breath as they saw the ball drop beyond the white foul lines. Finally, on the tenth pitch of the at bat, Wilson hit a ground ball toward first base. In reality first baseman Bill Buckner, who had notoriously bad ankles, moved over to field, but the ball rolled under his glove into right field. The two runs scored and the Mets won the game. They would take the seventh game and the series.
But I was playing first base now. The ball slammed solidly into my glove. I ran the three steps and stomped on the base. The crowd gave an anguished groan. The Red Sox players went wild. They streamed out of the dugout jumping and shouting and hugged one another. A second before, the noise was so loud in the stadium that it could have busted fragile eardrums. Now there was a dead silence in the crowd. The Red Sox players, though, shouted with glee and held a rowdy, group hug near the mound.
I yelled too and showed a huge smile.
OK, screen off.
The stadium disappeared. When I walked out of the cubicle, Astrid waited, her arms crossed and showing what might have been a disapproving smile.
You know, honey, you might need to work on this obsession you have with baseball.
I picked her up and spun her around, surprising her.
I only have one obsession, my dear and it’s you.
She yelped with delight as I spun her around again. Then my fingers tickled her side. She burst into laughter.
Honey, don’t do that. You know I’m ticklish. Wait, don’t—
The rest of the sentence was cut off by her laughter. I kissed her check. Glad to see you’re in a better mood than you were this morning.
She wrapped her legs around my waist.
I’m sorry. I was grouchy. It was one of those days.
I twirled her around again. I love you even when you’re grouchy.
She ran her hands through my hair. A strand fell over my eyes and she tenderly pushed it back. You do, don’t you?
she said softly. You even love me when I act like a you-know-what.
You’ve never acted like a you-know-what. Never.
Her hands grabbed my face, tickling the beard stubble. I hadn’t shaved yet today. You are such a wonderful, marvelous liar. Yes, I have.
I never noticed,
I said, prompting her laughter.
" I