Tales From The Kurtherian Universe
Book Three
Michael Anderle
Samantha Harmer
T.L. Gryfen
Kat N. Snow
Lucinda Pebre
Logan Caird
Dominic Novielli
Lisa Frett
S.E. Weir
Tales From The Kurtherian Universe Book Three (this book) is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2018 Michael Anderle, Samantha Harmer, T.L. Gryfen, Kat N. Snow, Lucinda Pebre, Logan Caird, Dominic Novielli, Lisa Frett, and S.E. Weir
Cover by Andrew Dobell and Jeff Brown
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US edition, September 2018
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2015-2018 by Michael T. Anderle and LMBPN Publishing.
Contents
Introduction
Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe
A Concert To Remember
A Concert To Remember
Author Notes Samantha Harmer
Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe
Death And New Beginnings
Death And New Beginnings
Author Notes T.L. Gryfen
Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe
The Valley
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Author Notes Kat N. Snow
Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe
Tremor
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Author Notes Lucinda Pebre
Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe
Blood of Patriots and Tyrants
Blood of Patriots and Tyrants
Author Notes Logan Caird
Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe
Anyone For Juice
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Author Notes Dominic Novielli
Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe
The Medicine Show
The Medicine Show
Author Notes Logan Caird
Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe
Don’t Mess With Mine
Don’t Mess With Mine
Author Notes Lisa Frett
Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe
Spirit Whisperer
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Author Notes S.E. Weir
Other Tales from The KGU Books
Books by Michael Anderle
Connect with Michael Anderle
Tales From The Kurtherian Universe Book 3 Team
Thanks to the JIT Readers
John Ashmore
Mary Morris
Daniel Weigert
Erika Everest
James Caplan
Tim Bischoff
Kelly O’Donnell
Tracey Byrnes
Larry Omans
Micky Cocker
If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
Lynne Stiegler
Introduction
by Michael Anderle
Stories. Just about every human being loves them. Whether you absorb stories from books, magazines, the Internet, tv, movies, or you leaning over your mom or dad as they tell you something they did when they were young, pleasure is derived from listening to a good story.
And telling one (or two or three…a bunch.)
Until Amazon democratized the publishing business, we usually had to go through other people to get our stories read by others. Then, if an agent read our story, they had to like it enough to represent us and push our book on editors at the various publishing houses.
When I published my first set of stories, the desire to see my stories sell was a huge bucket list item (you know, that list of ‘things to do before I die?’) When I conceived the idea for Fans Write for the Fans, it was partially to give some of my fans the chance to go through the process of writing and then seeing their name in print.
They would get to see THEIR names on Amazon, and become published and paid authors. But I didn’t realize it would become so much more.
Authors in our Fans Write series have found friends around the world, and in their own backyards. Working together, supporting each other (In the Fans Write Facebook group) members have written stories, helped others with their stories, and frankly, some have had their lives changed.
The many good things happening went beyond my simple thoughts, and although I started the project, I’m not the one responsible for the amazing community it is now. The credit goes to Erika, Sarah and Nat—the ladies who took the opportunity I gave and watered it, allowing many others to share with book 02 and now book 03 of Fans Write for Fans.
To all of you who helped the authors in this book with your support, encouragement, beta reading, editing, and JIT reading, thank you! You have played an important role in the creation of this book.
To those authors whose stories are in this book, congratulations! Originally, the Fans Write project was to be a collection of fan fiction. However, through Lynne and others the requirement to honor canon became a thing, and now you have accomplished something rather remarkable.
You have been selected out of many submissions to be published with a story judged by our readers to honor the canon of The Kurtherian Gambit. Your name will be listed on the front, and you will be able to say for the rest of your life that you are a published author.
When I realized I was officially an author (that name on the cover thing), it was a damned good feeling.
I hope you enjoy the feeling like I did (and still do)!
Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael Anderle
Haiku From The Kurtherian Universe
Implacable death
pursues Kurtherian foes.
BA is coming...
Look for more throughout the book :)
A Concert To Remember
By Samantha Harmer
The Leath War has take
n its toll. Three schoolgirls affected by loss attempt to bring solace to those left behind with a celebration to remember. For one night only, Jemma, Eleanor, and Mel present - The Mamas and the Ta-Tas!
But will anyone notice?
For all those in Fans Write who encouraged me to write this story. You know who you are.
— Samantha
A Concert To Remember
QBBS Meredith Reynolds, High School
Jemma glanced at the clock. The day had gone slowly, as it always did on a school day. At least today is Friday, so I’ll have two days of rest and relaxation. She didn’t hate school, she just wanted to do more. In three years her class would graduate and have a role in the Empire, but Jemma couldn’t wait that long.
Last Career Day, the school organized a visit from some of the students’ idols. Scientists, engineers, Marines, and others enticed them with placements. These offers came with a proviso—work hard at school. Very few of the girls wanted to join the Marines, but hell, they attended just to drool over the hunks in their oh-so-tight uniforms. Jemma smiled at the memory, wishing one of them was teaching their class right now.
At fifteen years old, Jemma wished she could do something that mattered. Hell, I’ll never be a fighter, but there must be other ways I can help. All I’ve ever wanted is to help people. The idea of violence left a bitter taste in Jemma’s mouth. A lump formed in her throat, and she coughed. Last year she had decided to be a doctor but discovered blood and needles made her faint. Jemma’s heart broke at the thought of people suffering. That would be a start.
Jemma looked around the room, hoping for any distraction to relieve the boredom of Mr. Jameson’s math class. His voice droned on, and she had to stifle a yawn. With sadness, she noticed the many empty chairs. She thought about her friend Melanie and the others attending the memorial services for their loved ones who had given their lives in the Leath war.
The passage of time hadn’t improved the situation. Loss was loss. The community came together to honor the dead, and to help the living rebuild their lives.
This evening she and Eleanor had to cheer up their girl. Melanie had lost her mother in the last assault and had been living in a waking nightmare since then. They had all been prepared for the loss, but it hadn’t helped.
For tonight, Jemma and Eleanor had found a collection of the old music, films, and games that Melanie liked. They’d also packed their overnight bags and arranged with Mel’s father Robert to stay over at their apartment. They planned to shower her with girliness—anything to crack a smile.
Jemma watched the clock’s hands crawl slowly toward two. One more hour and they’d be free.
QBBS Meredith Reynolds, Mel’s Quarters
Robert opened the door, “Hi, girls, come inside. Mel’s just getting changed.” He pointed toward Mel’s door with a sad smile.
“How are you, Robert?” Jemma was worried about him. She’d known the Collins family for ten years, and they were like her extended family. His face was pale, and he looked tired and more careworn than she had ever seen him. Without thinking, she gave him a hug, willing as much healing into it as she could.
“I’ve been better, Jem. Mel’s so quiet, I can’t…” He stopped and swallowed audibly. “I can’t get through to her. Her mother always knew the right words, I… I don’t know where to begin.” He fell quiet and stepped back from the hug, “Thank you. I’ll get dinner ready. No doubt you girls are hungry.”
They nodded to him and watched in silent sadness as a once-strong man made his way into the kitchen area. Jemma and Eleanor looked at each other.
Eleanor glanced at the closed door, “Are we planning to wait out here for Mel?”
“No. Let’s face it, Mel will hide in her room all night if we let her. We’re meant to be giving her company.” So saying, Jemma walked to the door and knocked.
Melanie didn’t respond, so Jemma raised her voice. “Mel, it’s Jemma. Eleanor and I thought you could use our company tonight. Can we talk?”
No noise came from Melanie’s room. After an awkward pause, the door slowly opened, revealing a small, slim girl with blond hair and eyes red from crying. Her blotchy face and red nose hid her natural beauty. With a nod of her head, she indicated that they should enter.
Jemma stopped short when she saw the room. Melanie liked her room tidy; she’d always been a neat freak. It was like a tornado had hit it. Jemma paused, her mind racing for what to say. Tissues littered the bed and bedside table, clothes were strewn over the floor and books lay neglected everywhere.
Melanie noticed her reaction and looked around the room. Slowly her face changed from an expression of sadness to one of grim determination. Grumbling under her breath, she began to tidy her room.
“Well, Mel, I never thought I’d live to see the day when my room is cleaner than yours,” Jemma began before she had time to stop herself. She looked guiltily at her friend. “Sorry, hon.”
“No, you’re right.” Mel half-smiled. “I’ve let this place go to hell. If Mom were here, she’d yell at me. Tell me to pull myself together and take pride in my room.”
“We brought music.” Eleanor spoke up for the first time since entering the room. “Maybe it will help the chores go faster.”
Brandishing an old mp3 player and speakers, Eleanor pressed Play. The girls started to clean up, occasionally sharing memories about things in the room.
As Mel replaced the last book on the shelf, their favorite song started playing. Eleanor, usually so quiet, sang along, and Jemma and Mel played backup. They danced around the room acting out the lyrics, hands raising to indicate their ring finger whenever the song mentioned it.
They got to the end and collapsed on the bed, laughing and tired. Enthusiastic applause interrupted the next track, and the girls leapt to their feet, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.
A smile lit Robert’s face. “That was amazing. You girls have talent.”
They beamed at him. Jemma noticed he looked younger than when he’d opened the door to them, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Mom loved that song,” Mel said quietly. “She used to sing it all the time.”
“Yes, she did.” Robert motioned to his daughter to come over for a hug. “She would have loved to see you enjoying it as much as she did.”
Mel ran to her father's arms and buried herself in his chest, tiny sobs escaping. Robert stroked her hair. Over Mel’s head, he mouthed to Jemma and Eleanor, “Thank you.”
Inside, Jemma felt proud that she’d helped.
“Well, girls, I hope you are hungry, because I may have cooked too much food.” Robert laughed warmly.
They followed him out of the room to enjoy the feast.
QBBS Meredith Reynolds, High School Cafeteria, Monday
Mel slammed her tray down and looked disgusted. “You know, guys are idiots.”
Eleanor threw a worried glance at Jemma. They knew Mel liked a boy called Owen, but he didn’t notice her attempts to flirt with him.
“What’s Owen done this time?” Jemma asked wearily.
Mel shot her an annoyed glance. “He’s basically saying he’s thinking of going to the end-of-year dance alone. Do you know why?” Her voice became heated.
Jemma shook her head, knowing it would be something stupid.
“Because he doesn’t think anyone would want to go with him!” she growled through gritted teeth.
Jemma wanted to yell at her but instead asked, “Why don’t you just ask him?”
Mel’s glare was acid. “That would be so uncool. Plus, I’m not sure I’m going either.” She relaxed a little. “I’m not in a party mood. Don’t get me wrong; I loved that you two came to cheer me up the other night. I just don’t want the rest of the school judging me for mourning. I mean, it’s in two weeks’ time.”
Eleanor patted her arm. “I understand. I won’t go either if you prefer. We can do another girl’s night. What do you think, Jem?”
It took Jemma a moment to respond. �
�We should go and dance our hearts out. If people expect you to cry in the corner, do the opposite.”
She sat forward in her chair excitedly. “How about we get people to sign up for a concert in aid of all those who have lost someone?”
Eleanor and Mel exchanged glances now. “Why is my stomach telling me it’s a bad idea?” Mel asked, arms folded and brow wrinkled.
“Because you lost your sense of adventure when you lost your ability to ask out boys you like!” Jemma retorted and stuck out her tongue.