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Am I Adulting Yet?: Adulthood Coming-of-Age Stories in SFF

Image Place holder  of - 5By J. S. Dewes

In this veritable Golden Age of character-driven science fiction & fantasy, I’ve been noticing a compelling sub-genre of sorts emerging: the adult coming-of-age story.

This is wonderful, and needed, and for me, one of the most relatable things to read about at the moment. We’re drawn toward fiction we see our own struggles reflected in, and I don’t know about you, but as a Millennial experiencing the infamous delayed adulthood due to graduating the literal year of the 2008 economic crash, the older I get, the more I love stories that show us it’s never too late to become the best version of ourselves.

So here I am, defiantly stating that coming-of-age is no longer just for kids & teens! Let’s discuss.


Shall We Define It?

I’m by no means a genre scholar so I’m going to plead the Fifth here and not get too deep into the muck, but there are a few patterns that stuck out to me while brainstorming this topic.

When chatting about it with my husband, his first question was an interesting one: Why do these “adults” even need to come of age to begin with? After taking a closer look at my own novels as well as some of my favorite examples, I noticed these adult protagonists seemed to typically fall into one of two “camps”:

  1.  “Stunted,” in which the character has been delayed in their maturation for whatever reason—be it willfulness, childhood trauma, neglect, etc, and never “grew up” to begin with. This adult may not be faced with the same challenges as their adolescent counterparts (seeking independence, loss of innocence, puberty, etc.), but plenty of other issues abound—be it a struggle to hit common life milestones, social ineptitude, or simply being faced with the fact that they’ve neglected to address a shortcoming for years or even decades (cue existential anxiety over wasted time and shortness of life.)
  2.  “Redo,” where the protagonist already came of age, became a well-adjusted, functional version of themselves and have been living that way just fine for some time. However now, for one reason or another, they’re made to reevaluate this stasis. Maybe their life circumstances changed drastically, maybe a long-held belief is challenged, or maybe they’ve been faced with a truth about themselves they’d previously ignored, and are now forced to address.

But emotional growth exists at the core of any good character-driven narrative, so what distinguishes an adult coming-of-age story? Accepting responsibility seems to be a big one, which at first glance might not seem wildly dissimilar to the expectations of their younger counterparts. However where kids are often learning to take responsibility for themselves and their actions, adults seem to be more often put in positions of taking responsibility for others—family, friends, or as it is so often the case of SFF, entire kingdoms or galaxy-spanning societies.

Backstories seem to play an important role as well—whereas a lack of experience, skill, and/or knowledge are typically the cause of an adolescent protagonist’s faults or missteps, adults are in the unique position of very much knowing better, but willfully ignoring if not simply repressing it entirely. Adults have the unique potential for long, complicated backstories full of emotional hang-ups and dark sins to atone for, and these prior grievances can often become the key focus around which the character arc pivots.

Example Time!

In which I take a closer look at a few of my favorite (more mainstream) coming-of-age stories featuring adult protagonists!

#1 – Tyrion (Game of Thrones)

(Nonspecific character spoilers, whole show.)

As the “black sheep” of one of the most influential families in the Seven Kingdoms, Tyrion is a breeding ground for fascinating character development, and a premier example of the aforementioned “stunted” coming-of-age adult character.

At 32 years old, Tyrion has enjoyed a long life of immense wealth and privilege, while also being treated abysmally and discriminated against by almost every single person in his life. Having long since grown jaded by the way society treats him, he’s fallen into an open-ended pattern of lazy, drunken, womanizing self-destruction only a noble pedigree could finance.

Throughout the events of the series, Tyrion learns many useful life lessons, but one sticks out to me the most—that lineage isn’t everything, and sometimes the people you love aren’t good for you (or in this case, are really really really bad for you.) Learning this is what really allows him to push beyond his “stunted” barricade and start to grow. He begins to enact positive change without resorting to fear mongering and threats like his father, or subterfuge and backstabbery like his siblings. He gains allies he trusts and who trust him in return, takes a measured approach to conflict and is willing to address it head-on while leaving behind most if not all the destructive tendencies that’d previously held him back. 

But maybe most importantly, his motivations change. He learns to want a position of power in order to create a better society, actively setting aside his family’s focus on wealth and privilege. His arc is cyclical in that he returns to his position as Hand, but as a wildly different version of the man he was in season one—still naturally intelligent and sharp-witted, but having grown a backbone, a sense of duty and responsibility for others, and an air of authority, earning the respect of his peers and inspiring those around him. In gaining that distance and perspective, Tyrion is able to become the best version of his adult self.

(Please note, I’m choosing to ignore the final seasons’ watered-down apparition of the brilliant, driven, assured, clever man Peter Dinklage made us all fall in love with, and instead assume he stuck the landing and stayed the course he was so clearly on.)

#2 – Dragon Age II

(Vague character & plot spoilers.)

It’s me, so I can’t resist squeezing a video game in here. (Also I dedicated The Exiled Fleet to Anders & Justice, so there’s a lot of Associated Feelings here.)

Fandom withstanding, DAII is a great one to talk about, as it’s an excellent example of the latter “redo” camp, where the protagonist is a useful adult to begin with, but story events radically alter the course of their journey.

Hawke is 24/25 at the very beginning of the game, which takes place over the course of about seven years. As RPGs are wont to do, players are left to make many of the more crucial decisions that ultimately impact character development, however by crafting Hawke as a pre-existing, named character with a single backstory, there’s a bit more structure the writers are able to give for who Hawke is and who they become over the long duration of the game.

After fleeing their small rural town for the city-state of Kirkwall, Hawke’s adult “life status” if you will is altered drastically when they become, in effect, the head of a noble family. Time and time again, Hawke is expected to take responsibility (and consequences) for the actions of their (at times difficult) friends and family, and is repeatedly faced with accepting new and more challenging versions of adulthood than what they’d grown accustomed to in the small farming village they came from.

But a real turning point occurs when Hawke earns the moniker “the Champion of Kirkwall,” and finds themselves idolized by much of the citizenry. This marks a major shift in societal responsibility—one the player cannot reject and which becomes an intrinsic part of the character’s growth. Of course you can roleplay this however you want, but in the end this additional position of power forces Hawke into taking part in some Big Time Responsibility decisions—political, economical, spiritual, and cultural—which not only impact their family and friends, but the trajectory of thousands (arguably millions) of lives across Thedas. If that’s not some serious adult coming-of-age-level responsibility, I don’t know what is.

#3 – Loki

(Minor/medium, mostly setup spoilers.)

Loki Loki Loki Loki. If you haven’t watched this shining example of brilliantly executed television/streaming excellence, go now, I’ll wait.

 . . .

Okay, good. Wonderful, right? You’re welcome.

So at first glance, you’re likely to assume Loki is a case of “stunted,” and for good reason. At over a thousand years old, this man-child (god-child?) has never been forced to address his own shortcomings, and still has an impressive amount of growing up to do. 

However, early in the story Loki’s forced to (literally) relive his past transgressions, and his worldview is shattered when he’s presented with the notion that his mother’s death may have been his fault. This cracks his previously infallible guise of mischievousness nonchalance, and he’s forced to realize his actions have consequences.

He’s still plenty “stunted,” don’t get me wrong—but this revelation very much plants him in “redo” camp as well. With his core belief system shaken, Loki begins to lose control over the situation (a fate any master manipulator dreads.) This forces him wayyy out of his comfort zone and onto a path he at first resists, rather vehemently. However, with a fragment of belief—and maybe more importantly, trust—from the ever-charming Mobius, Loki begins to undergo a lot of complex emotional shifts. Though he still has plenty of coming-of-age to do, Loki ultimately proves himself not only capable of inspiring trust in others, but learns to trust and believe in himself.

The best part—with only one season under our belts, we’re just getting started with this disaster-adult story, and I have every faith that Loki will become an epic journey of self discovery and a premiere example of adulthood coming-of-age tales.

Smooth Self-Promo Transition

In my debut sci-fi series The Divide (comprised of The Last Watch & The Exiled Fleet), practically every single character is an adult work-in-progress (whether they admit it or not). I hadn’t realized prior to starting this article, but this series is simply packed chock-full of adults who have no idea who they really are.

As soldiers banished to a post on the edge of the universe, the Sentinels find themselves uniquely positioned to embark on transformative life journeys, as they really have nowhere to go but up! Some are being punished for good reason, others less so, but regardless, this unique circumstance has given them all the time and distance to hold their lives, desires, and ambitions up to scrutiny, and reassess how they fit into this new version of their lives.

Conveniently enough, each of the two main point-of-view characters fill one of the aforementioned “camps.” At the beginning of The Last Watch, the Sentinels’ commander, Adequin Rake, falls squarely into the “redo” category. As a venerated war hero, she’s inarguably a very capable, functional adult who came of age just fine, benefitting from the aid of a small but strong handful of positive role models. Her backbone in the military gave her focus, purpose, and drive…until she finds herself languishing at the edge of the universe. The events of the first book really begin to poke holes in that armor, and Rake is forced to realize the person she once was is no longer compatible with the trajectory the universe has put her on. Time for an adult coming-of-age character arc!

 Exiled prince Cavalon Mercer on the other hand definitely falls into the “stunted” category. A lack of dependable role models plays a big part in his delayed emotional growth—the only decent ones he had either vanished when he was young, or were emotionally and physically distant. When he’s banished to the Divide, he meets Rake, and through her gains gains that long-overdue, much needed stability, trust, and belief (see Why Can’t We Be (Just) Friends?) and he begins to see a path to get back on track and progress toward “functional adulthood.” But like Loki, he has a long way to go.  

A common trope in science fiction and fantasy is to frame humanity as a shortsighted, brash, reckless species. Which, okay, fair—but my optimistic side would like to think this is also what makes us adaptable, and maybe more importantly, resilient. No matter our age—child, teenager, young adult, adult—we’re not only capable of shouldering the changes life throws at us, but we embrace them, accept them, and allow them to strengthen us so we can continually become a better version of ourselves.

I want to hear all about your favorite examples of adulthood coming-of-age fiction in the comments, please and thank you!

J. S. Dewes is the author of The Divide Series. The second book, The Exiled Fleet, is on sale from Tor Books now.

Order The Exiled Fleet Here:

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Excerpt: The Exiled Fleet by J. S. Dewes

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Poster Placeholder of - 98J. S. Dewes continues her fast paced, science fiction action adventure with The Exiled Fleet, where The Expanse meets The Black Company—the survivors of The Last Watch refuse to die.

The Sentinels narrowly escaped the collapsing edge of the Divide.

They have mustered a few other surviving Sentinels, but with no engines they have no way to leave the edge of the universe before they starve.

Adequin Rake has gathered a team to find the materials they’ll need to get everyone out.

To do that they’re going to need new allies and evade a ruthless enemy. Some of them will not survive.

Please enjoy this free preview of The Exiled Fleet, on sale 08/17/2021.


Chapter One

“Motherfucker. You better work.”

Cavalon slammed the access panel shut. Sweat stung his eyes and he wiped away the moisture slicking his overgrown hair to his forehead. Days since he’d started this phase of the project: twenty-three. Times he’d recalculated, reconfigured, or rebuilt this single fucking subsystem: fourteen. Patience: zero.

This had to be it. It had to work this time, or he’d give up and activate it without any stupid “core stabilization,” then stand back and watch the damn thing supernova. Who tried to build a star aboard a fucking spaceship anyway? Bloody void.

He tapped the black nexus band on his wrist, and an orange holographic display slid into the air over his forearm. He found the menu labeled with a hashed half circle, a spiked teardrop, and an inverted triangle—a Viator phrase that unnervingly translated to “anti-explosion box.” He selected the icon, and it produced an infuriating “sync in progress” meter.

He waited for the bar to fill, scratching at the few centimeters of blond growth along his jawline. He’d given up months ago, and just rode the stubble wave right into a beard, which had arrived peppered with more gray than felt reasonable for twenty-eight. But there was no time for shaving when there was a “perpetual jump drive” to build. Well, invent.

Jump drives required solar energy to function, usually amassed by panels on the hull while a vessel went about its business in a solar system. But they weren’t in a solar system—they weren’t even in a galaxy—which meant there wasn’t a single star even remotely close enough. So, naturally, the solution had been to build one. In the damn ship.

For the last six months, every ounce of his effort, day or night, sleeping or waking, had been focused on finishing this ridiculous “perpetual jump drive.” This singular task, the only thing that could get all four thousand rescued Sentinels to Kharon Gate before they all died of thirst or starvation, or the Divide finally drove them all mad and the Typhos became one giant murder party. As usual, no pressure.

With a placid beep, the sync completed. The screen flashed red and his nexus band blurted out a negative tone. He clenched his teeth, suppressing a low growl. Ever the masochist, he tapped the activation again. Again, a docile negative tone, and again, nothing.

He quirked a brow at the display. Strangely, it showed no error code. Maybe the wireless controls were acting up again. It hadn’t been the easiest task of Puck’s career to get the Legion software to interact nicely with the Viator-conceived systems. He’d have to check the primary control terminal to be sure.

Cavalon closed the menu, then headed up the slanted passage and out of the reactor’s shell into the hangar bay. Comparatively cool air chilled his sweat-slicked cheeks as he stepped onto the metal walkway.

A framework of scaffolding ringed the outside of the twenty-meter-diameter orb, allowing access to the dozens of systems required to make the monstrosity work. The reactor’s components weren’t nearly as accessible as they’d been in the versions aboard the dark energy generators, mostly due to the exorbitant amount of improvisation he’d had to do. But hey, he wasn’t an ancient alien species with millennia of research and apparently endless resources at his disposal. He was simply a guy with a degree in astro-mechanical engineering, which somehow meant this was in his wheelhouse. Most days, he just felt like a guy with a few different types of wrenches and way too much responsibility. The whole thing was really absurd.

Cavalon headed around the arc of scaffolding toward the reactor’s anterior, which faced out into the large, empty hangar—bay F9, now pragmatically known as “the reactor bay.” Though at least eighty meters square, it was modest compared to what a behemoth capital ship like the Typhos had to offer, easily the smallest of their dozens of hangars and docking bays, but also the closest in proximity to the ship’s jump drive.

He arrived at the primary control terminal, a two-meter-wide counter covered with jury-rigged holographic interfaces and repurposed viewscreens. He swept open the solenoid controls, and a white holographic menu materialized in the air over the terminal counter

He grumbled under his breath and tapped the activation switch.

Another negative tone, this one louder, denser, and more judgmental than the one from his nexus band. An error screen taunted him next, along with a brand-new message he’d not seen the other fourteen times he’d taken a stab at this: “Subsystem not found.”

Void, he’d made it worse.

He clenched his fists, knuckles going white as he pressed them into the console top and muttered, “Goddamn piece of flaming void garbage.”

“Maybe if you didn’t call it mean names?”

Cavalon glanced over his shoulder, down past the walkway railing. On the deck six meters below, Jackin North stood in front of the cluster of workbenches. He stared up at Cavalon expectantly, hands on hips, looking all hygienic and not grease-stained in his unwrinkled, navy-blue Legion uniform. It’d taken Cavalon about two weeks before he’d given up on maintaining a clean uniform, and Jackin about two more before he’d given up giving Cavalon shit about wearing nothing but a T-shirt and duty slacks. Jackin knew how to pick his battles.

Cavalon took a strange amount of comfort in Jackin’s composed appearance. It acted as evidence that life existed somewhere outside bay F9. And, as was probably the point, served as a reminder of how a soldier should look. As their acting commander, Jackin had to set a precedent. Lead by example, or some such nonsense.

Yet even the highest-ranking officer aboard couldn’t hide the impact of months of reduced rations: his face narrower, cheekbones sharper, and a sullen, yellow tinge to the whites of his dark brown eyes.

“How’s it going?” Jackin asked, tone unnervingly even.

Cavalon cast an unnecessary glance at the nexus band on his wrist. “That time again already, boss?”

The scraping assessment in Jackin’s eyes somehow felt equal degrees judgmental and tolerant.

Cavalon sighed. “I know it’s on your regimented daily itinerary, Optio, but I’d work a lot better without you breathing down my neck every morning.”

“Remember, it’s centurion now.”

“Right. What’s with that, anyway? I thought you were going to be CNO?”

“You don’t really need a fleet navigations officer when you don’t have a fleet.”

Cavalon scratched his chin. “True.” They were in fact a fleet of one at the moment—all the other ships that’d survived the Divide’s collapse had proven themselves just as stranded as the Argus had been. No ion drives, no warp drives, no jump drives, and thus no ability to congregate. Which held its own as an exercise in negligence, but after seeing the monumental—and frankly, creative—ways in which the Legion had recklessly abandoned the Sentinels, Cavalon now knew it to be intentional. If you’re going to banish all your criminal soldiers to the edge of the universe, no reason to give them an easy way to escape. Or to mutiny, as the case may be.

Cavalon knelt, letting out a groan as his joints protested. He reached under the console and grabbed a battered multimeter, then tossed it under the railing at Jackin.

Jackin flinched as the device hit him square in the chest. It toppled down into his arms and he awkwardly caught it. He leveled a glower of barely contained frustration at Cavalon. “Void, kid—I’m not a time ripple.”

“That’s what they all say,” Cavalon mumbled. “Just checking. I don’t have time to have this conversation again. And again. And again.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jackin grumbled, dropping the multimeter onto the nearest workbench. “Why don’t you just give me the report, then me and all future mes can get on with our days and leave you alone.”

Cavalon grimaced as his hands began to cramp. “The report is: How about you worry about getting yourself a fleet, and I’ll worry about creating a star generator from scratch.”

“Because I won’t be able to get inward to even begin to muster a fleet without your star generators. Also, everyone will starve.”

Cavalon dug a thumb deep into the palm of one cramping hand. “Void, I know, okay? I don’t know what you want me to do. I can only work so fast.”

The furrow in Jackin’s brow softened. “I know, kid. Sorry.” His gaze went unfocused as he rubbed a hand through the scarred side of his trimmed black beard. “Just do your best,” he encouraged. “We’ve got the rest in hand, don’t worry about that part.”

Cavalon nodded, unable to ignore the forced evenness in Jackin’s tight expression. He wasn’t a very good liar. And Cavalon was well aware of the primary cause of his worry: Rake and Co. were supposed to have returned from rescuing Sentinels and restarting the other dark energy generators weeks ago. Every passing day they didn’t return seemed to age Jackin by weeks—stony gray salting his black hair at the temples, his light brown skin too weathered for someone in their early forties.

Jackin drew in a deep breath, vanquishing the worry from his face with an ostensible effort. “I’ll leave you to it. Update me when you can. Will I see you at drills tomorrow?”

Cavalon forced a grin. “Yeah. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Jackin nodded, then made his way back to the massive bay doors and left.

“Animus.”

Cavalon startled, the scaffolding at his feet groaning as he twisted to find Mesa lurking behind him. She regarded him evenly, the bags under her overlarge eyes like inky bruises against her warm beige skin.

He licked his dry lips, then reached out and pressed her shoulder gently. “You real?”

Mesa’s narrow chin stayed straight as she swayed back from his push, her round eyes sharpening. “Difficult to say, considering one is not generally aware of one’s own dissociation from space-time.”

He cleared his throat. “Fair.”

“Time ripple or not,” she said, holding out a tablet toward him, “I have recalculated the magnetic potential using our altered equations.”

Cavalon took the tablet, a frown tugging at his lips as he noticed the way it trembled in her grasp. As a Savant, she had lousy endurance even on an easy day, and the last six months had been nothing but hard days.

“How’s it look?” Cavalon asked, glancing at the dozen blocks of Viator code on the screen.

“Promising,” Mesa replied. “I believe you were correct in your assessment that we miscalculated the phase shift accumulation. We cannot continue to assume our present understanding of gravitational field generation is wholly accurate.”

Cavalon blew out a heavy sigh. Present understanding, in this case, meant “mankind’s collective comprehension of particle physics.” But redefining their fundamental understanding of science happened once a week these days, so he wasn’t surprised. Only annoyed.

He gave a cursory look at the new code. This phase shift hack job was a last-ditch effort. If Mesa’s new calculations didn’t fix it, he’d have to go back to the drawing board on the whole core stabilization subsystem— again—and all Jackin’s anxious notions over them starving before they could leave the Divide would likely become reality.

“Well, let’s hope you were right,” Cavalon said, “and it’s really only because we fucked up the math. One small problem first, though . . .”

She tilted her head. “Yes?”

He tucked the tablet under his arm, then palmed the holographic screen over the primary control terminal. He spun it to face her, showcasing the error message. “I kinda broke it.”

Mesa made a constrained clicking sound with her tongue, shoulders stiffening with forced patience. She swiped to dismiss the message, then backed through the menus to another screen. She sighed. “It is not broken. You merely left the remote edit permissions lock on again.”

Cavalon snorted a laugh, running a hand down the side of his face. Of course he did. It was the engineering equivalent of a child safety lock. Obviously he’d not be able to work it properly.

Mesa had insisted on implementing the feature early on, and at the time, Cavalon had thought it wholly unnecessary. But the longer it went on, the more tired he grew, the more mistakes he made, and the happier he was that Mesa had completely ignored his objection.

“We will need to release the local console,” Mesa said. “But we can simply enter the new calculations from there.”

Cavalon nodded, and Mesa followed as he headed back around the scaffolding to the posterior access tunnel. They ducked inside, but Cavalon stopped short when he saw two figures ten meters down the sloping passage, standing at the control panel. He squinted at the wavering doppelgängers—he and Mesa, of course, but weirdly, they were grinning like idiots.

Real Cavalon slid real Mesa a weak smile. “If those kids are that happy, maybe we’re onto something after all.”

Seconds later, the doppelgängers’ outlines jittered, and they shimmered like a puddle of water disturbed by a tossed pebble before vanishing.

Cavalon started down the pitched floor toward the console. “What if . . .” he proposed, “we fly this whole outfit even closer to the Divide so we get even more ripples and maybe one of those Cavalons and/or Mesas will have a clue how to finish this thing.”

“Regardless of how absurdly dangerous that would be,” Mesa replied, “as with the other Sentinel ships, we cannot move this vessel in any appreciable manner.”

Cavalon sighed. “I miss Rake. She could appreciate a good joke.”

“I am sure you do,” Mesa said, “but not for that reason.”

He scoffed. “What?”

“You say you ‘miss’ her because she would tolerate your pointless humor—”

“Pointless? Ouch, Mes.”

“—but ‘missing’ a person is merely a symptom of unfulfilled emotional needs.”

A symptom? That was pretty calculated, even for Mesa. She must be extra over it today.

“In this example,” she continued, “more than likely, the sense of security the excubitor provided as a sympathetic commander. By that account, I ‘miss’ her as well.”

Cavalon sighed. He wasn’t sure why Mesa kept air-quoting “miss” as if it weren’t a real thing.

“Sure,” he said, “but, I think you’re underestimating how much I need people to like my jokes.”

Mesa pursed her lips.

“And FYI,” he added as they came to a stop in front of the console, “by your own definition, you miss Puck.”

“I do not know what you speak of,” Mesa said, with the barest sliver of defensiveness in her tone.

“You know—Jackin’s cheerful optio, weirdly tall, shaved head.” Cavalon mimed typing in the air. “Good with the hackies? The one giving you a doe-eyed stare all the time?”

“I do not miss him.”

“Do too. He’s too busy running the ship to fulfill your unfulfilled—”

“I suggest you not finish that sentence,” she warned.

Cavalon grinned. Mesa was such a damn prude. Watching her get all squirmy about her secret boyfriend was one of the very few bright spots left in Cavalon’s day.

Mesa impatiently plucked the tablet from Cavalon’s grip. “May we return to our work, please?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” Cavalon activated the control screen and unlocked the remote edit permissions.

Mesa started reading off the new code as he input it. “You have taken to the Viator language extremely well,” she commented.

“It’s been six months.” He hit delete a few times to correct a typo. “Bound to pick up a few things.”

“Regardless, I am surprised it is even possible without formal instruction. It would be a difficult task, even for a trained linguist.”

“Careful, Mes. This is starting to sound like a compliment.”

She sighed.

“What can I say, it’s critical to our survival. You do what you have to do in times of crisis.”

Curiosity pinched her brow. “For most, it is not that simple.”

Cavalon gave a wavering shrug. His rapid proficiency in the Viator language surprised even himself. “Not like you’re any different,” he countered. “You didn’t know shit about photovoltaics six months ago. Now you could build a neutrino capacitor in your sleep.”

“Mm,” Mesa hummed, then let out a soft yawn. “I will be, at this rate.”

“Oh relax,” he grumbled, entering the final symbols. “There. Done.” He skimmed it over to confirm, then saved the new code and closed out the screen.

He opened his nexus, expanding the orange primary control menu. He tapped to activate. This time, the red error screen was instead a bright green. And not an error screen.

“Holy shit,” Cavalon breathed. He took a step back, a rash of heat climbing his neck.

Green. Not red. It’d fucking worked.

A click sounded and the panel behind the control terminal buzzed with electricity as the system engaged.

Cavalon turned to Mesa, whose overlarge Savant eyes had grown even larger. Her lips stretched into a broad smile, exposing her straight white teeth. He scooped her into a hug and accidentally lifted her off her feet—despite her petite frame, she weighed even less than he’d expected. She patted his back lightly and he let go, suddenly aware of the unfortunate amount of perspiration clinging his shirt to his skin.

“Sorry.” He frowned. “I’m sweaty.”

“Indeed,” she replied, elation returning to brighten her features. The Divide might excel at making them anxious, agitated, and depressed, but after six long months, Cavalon knew the opposite could be true as well. Low lows and high highs. It was a truly exhausting way to live.

An airy warmth inflated Cavalon’s chest as the remaining steps of the project fit together in his mind’s eye. One larger task and a slew of smaller tasks remained, including testing the gas injection system, finalizing the photovoltaics bridge that would feed the jump drive, and conducting a final evaluation of the operational diagnostics before they had to seal the thing up. But they were close. Really, really close.

He and Mesa climbed out of the inner chamber and descended the scaffolding to the workbenches at the front of the machine.

Cavalon hunted down a towel on the cluttered worktop and wiped the sweat from the nape of his neck, then grabbed his water bottle and took a long drink. Despite being room temperature, the epithesium-infused water felt like an icy mountain stream. Meant to hydrate and energize, the supplement hadn’t made much of a dent in his fatigue lately, and he found it took more and more to get the same results.

The rush of water flushed him with a cool tingle, and his damp shirt sent waves of goose bumps across his skin. He grimaced as his calves cramped. Bracing against the workbench, he tried to stretch through it, but the movement only sent more aggressive convulsions through his legs.

He glanced up at Mesa. She stood across the workbench, honed gaze sweeping over him like a biotool’s diagnostic beam.

To an outside observer, Mesa had two modes, intellectually discerning and critically discerning, and this one certainly fell into the latter category. During their endless hours working together, Cavalon had grown adept at interpreting the nuance behind her glares. This one was: “You look like death, why are you not tending to your most basic human needs?”

He rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m fine, Mes.”

She folded her hands on the counter. “Please visit the medbay during your next break.”

He scoffed a laugh. “Break? You mean the four hours a day I pass out facedown in the dark?”

“The greatest danger of this project lies in its many unknowns,” she said, ignoring his defeatism. “Many of the metamaterials you are working with are highly radiative—”

“I’m aware.”

“—not to mention the extended waking hours and reduced rations.”

A feverish chill washed over him, and he curtailed a shiver, then took another long drag of his water.

Mesa stepped around the workbench and laid her cool fingers on top of his balmy hand. All hints of judgment had fallen away, her overlarge eyes round. “It is the same reason, when aboard an aircraft, you attend to your own safety needs before assisting others. If you are dead, you can help no one.”

Cavalon swallowed. The muscles at the base of his neck cramped. “I’ll drop by over lunch.”

“Thank you.”

“Speaking of breaks,” he said, glancing at the time on his nexus, “your shift ended four hours ago.”

“I am aware.”

“You know, even though we’re the same rank, as project lead I have the authority to have you forcibly dismissed . . .”

She blinked once.

“That’s right. I’ve been reading all about the perks of my new rank.” Not so new anymore, though. He’d been an overworked animus about twelve times longer than he’d been a shitty, barely passable oculus. He’d been grateful for the shift in duties, though saving the excubitor from getting swallowed by the collapsing universe had been kind of an overly dramatic way to earn a promotion.

Mesa sucked in a slow breath. “Very well, Animus. I will take my leave.” She arched a brow and gave the mess of schematics on the worktop a once-over. “I know we have many ancillary tasks to attend. However, we should review your strategy for the cryostat’s final phase so I may draft the implementation agenda.”

Cavalon sighed, glancing over his shoulder and up the scaffolding that enveloped the reactor. He’d made the cryostat the final phase for a reason. It was the one system they hadn’t been able to recreate, lacking the metamaterial required to make it function. Which meant he had to craft a new version of the system from scratch. And a rather important system at that. Their superconducting magnets wouldn’t stay very superconductive at anything toastier than absolute zero.

“I haven’t made it that far, I’m afraid,” he admitted. He slung the sweat-dampened towel over his shoulder. “I have a couple ideas. Just need to figure out a few things. I’ll have something ready before your shift starts tomorrow.”

“Very well.” She inclined her head, then started for the exit.

“Thanks, Mes,” he called after her. “I mean—adequate work today, Animus Darox. It will be noted in your review.”

She threw a characteristically dismissive hand wave over her shoulder and left through the bay doors, leaving Cavalon alone in the sweltering hangar.

He took one last chug of epithesium-laced water, then set the bottle aside. He cleared half the worktop of tools and tablets, exposing a section of the holographic glass, then expanded the schematics for the cryostat shell and thermic shield.

He pored over his notes, reviewed the readouts on the diagnostic systems, and skimmed through Mesa’s exhaustive redundancy checks. Though the audits could be a time-consuming nuisance, he’d grown to see the value in that step of Mesa’s overly thorough process. One anxious, exhausted brain should not be in unconditional control of compressed star fabrication. Especially when that brain had no idea how to finish it.

Cavalon rested his elbows on the counter as he pressed his face into his hands, breathing slowly. He urged his eyes to return to the screens, but he simply couldn’t focus. He’d never felt like he had so little control over his own mind as he had in the last couple of weeks. He’d been brooding over this cryostat issue since day one, yet felt no closer to cracking it now than he had then.

A knot constricted his rib cage, trapping the air in his lungs. Sharp bile stung the back of his mouth. He pressed his knuckles into his chest and closed his eyes to let the twisting room right itself.

He’d grown all too familiar with this sensation lately, which mixed all the pleasantries of a panic attack with the thrill of anxiety-induced nausea. Unfortunately, knowing exactly why it was happening didn’t do anything to stop it.

It wasn’t because he feared Jackin’s disapproval, or that of the other twenty-some Sentinel commanders regularly shooting him judgmental glares, or that he felt he had to prove something to the obnoxious gang of Allied Monarchies hate-mongers roaming the halls. It wasn’t even the fact that four thousand lives hung in the balance. He just couldn’t bear the thought of letting Rake down.

She’d been gone almost six months, and the more outwardly worried Jackin grew, the more genuinely concerning it became.

It’d been a long time since Cavalon had missed someone, and even longer since he truly worried whether someone was alive. It was times like this he wished there were some worthy deities to pray to for her safe return. Or to blame if she never came back.

Chapter Two

Adequin Rake made her way through the dim, empty corridors of the Synthesis. Overhead, a bank of green-tinged light strobed, signaling its death throes with soft clicks and a high-pitched whine.

She coughed as she rounded a corner, inhaling through her mouth while covering her nostrils with the back of her hand. Though they’d managed to improve the general odor of the ship through the application of dozens of bottles of industrial-grade cleaning solution, lingering pockets of putrid, earthy Drudger musk still lay in wait to accost her when she least expected it.

She risked breathing through her nose again as she descended a short flight of metal steps and approached the entrance to the cockpit. Inside, the flight console displayed a single holographic menu showing an FTL diagnostics feed alongside a countdown. They’d be decelerating from warp soon.

Emery Flos sat in the copilot’s seat on the right, her neon-orange-laced boots draped across the flight dash. The long sleeves of her navy shirt were pushed up past her elbows, revealing the line of punitive, obsidian Sentinel Imprint squares cutting a path through the black-inked tattoos covering her thin arms. Her duty vest’s drawn hood shaded her face as she breathed in soft, whistling snores.

Adequin stepped between the two pilots’ seats. “Circitor.”

Emery startled awake. “Sir!” Her boots slid off the dash, her jaw resuming its gum chomping as instinctively as her eyes blinked and her lungs drew breath. Her white cheeks burned with an infusion of pink as she shot a quick look at the FTL screen. “Fifteen on the clock still, boss.” She creaked out a soft yawn, then seemed to awaken all at once as a wide grin spread across her face, eyes alight.

Adequin lifted a brow. “What?”

“Last one!” Emery beamed. “Aren’t you excited? We can finally get off this void-forsaken ship.” Her eyes fogged over with a distant, dreamy look. “Eat somethin’ other than an MRE. Maybe take a shower hotter than room temp.”

Adequin blew out a heavy sigh. “You good to take outlet cowl duty again?”

“Yessir,” Emery piped. She followed Adequin to the lockers inset beside the crash seats along the back wall. “Want Owen to run diagnostics first? Or we just assumin’ it’s busted?”

Adequin pulled one of the white pearlescent space suits from the locker and passed it to Emery. “I think it’s safe to assume. The last seven have been blown, after all.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” Emery stepped into the suit, then ran her fingers up the front seam. The nanite-infused fabric stitched together seamlessly as it reshaped to fit her small frame. She took a plasma torch from the locker and twirled it around by the trigger guard.

“Em,” Adequin admonished as she dug deeper in the locker.

“Sorry.” Emery caught the torch by the grip, then holstered it. “Guess we can’t be too mad about the outlet cowls. The fact this ancient tech works at all is a miracle. You really think the Viators made it? Musta been someone that came before them, right? Cathians or somethin’?”

Adequin passed Emery a tether harness and gave a light shrug. “Mesa thinks it was them.”

“Yeah, true. Not gonna argue with that lady.”

Adequin helped Emery into the harness, loaded her out with more tools than she would ever need, then double-checked the MMU attachment and suit comms.

When the dash let out a soft chime, Emery stashed her helmet and MMU by the door, and they returned to the helm.

Adequin sat in the pilot’s seat and checked the FTL screen. Ten minutes until arrival. “All right, Circitor. Call it.”

Emery nodded as she slipped into the copilot’s chair and opened the comms interface. She drew her shoulders straight, chin high. “Greetings, passengers of the RSF Synthesis,” she began, her tone crisp, monotone, and overly pleasant.

Adequin leaned into her periphery and mouthed, “RSF?”

Emery muted the connection long enough to whisper, “Renegade Sentinel Fleet,” then returned to the announcement. “This is your captain speaking . . .”

Adequin scoffed, shaking her head as she slid back and shouldered into her chair’s harness.

“We shall begin our scheduled deceleration shortly,” Emery continued in her same affected timbre. “Please make your way to the nearest crash bench, and remain seated with your harness securely fastened as we will be entering the maw of the ancient alien megastructure in T-minus nine minutes and counting.”

Adequin pinched the bridge of her nose.

“After disembarking,” Emery went on, “proceed carefully along the extremely narrow walkway to the giant bronze sphere and please do not fall off the edge as there is no—”

“Void,” Adequin breathed, swiping the dash and stealing comms control from Emery. “Decel in five,” she grunted. “Delta Team, disembark from hold airlock in ten. Helm, out.”

Emery frowned, slouching back in her seat. “What? You don’t like Renegade Sentinel Fleet? I also considered LSV—‘Liberated Sentinel Vessel.’”

Emery went on for a long while about the various ship prefixes she’d considered, and Adequin was relieved when the timer finally hit zero and the ship decelerated from warp.

The deck rumbled softly, and the viewscreen flashed white before being replaced with a sea of absolute black. Adequin stared at the empty screen, eyes scanning for any sign of the structure.

Finally, the massive orb appeared for a fraction of a second, silhouetted by a sharp light cutting a static path across the void: the Divide collapsing toward them, evaporating whatever stray stardust lay between it and the generator. A “direct affront to the laws of thermodynamics,” a frenzied Mesa had once ranted.

Adequin expanded her preset array of flight screens and Emery activated the searchlight. The narrow beam caught only a fraction of the structure. It reflected off the overlaid slabs of metal, carved with deep trenches of an uninterrupted, geometric design like that covering the four facets of the atlas device.

Adequin eyed the burnished gold pyramid resting on the dash between the two pilots’ seats. Over the last five weeks, the Viator device had allowed them to stay a step ahead of the Divide while locating Sentinel vessels, and acted as a key to unlock access to the generators. Now she wondered if they’d ever have a use for it again. Its range didn’t seem to extend beyond the Legion-occupied Divide, and if all went as planned, the Sentinels would be leaving the Divide in short order. Cavalon hadn’t come up short on a promise to her yet.

Adequin engaged sublights. From beyond the station, more staticky light erupted, and deep in her gut, right at her core, a tiny, almost imperceptible tug willed her outward, toward the Divide.

She drew in a steadying breath. “On approach,” she said, then angled them toward the structure.

Copyright © J. S. Dewes 2021

Pre-order The Exiled Fleet Here:

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Every Book Coming From Tor in Summer 2021

Summer is almost here and we’re so excited for warm weather, sunshine, and NEW BOOKS!!! Check out everything coming from Tor Books in summer 2021 here:

June 1

Placeholder of  -25The Library of the Dead by T. L. Huchu

Ropa dropped out of school to become a ghostalker – and they sure do love to talk. Now she speaks to Edinburgh’s dead, carrying messages to those they left behind. A girl’s gotta earn a living, and it seems harmless enough. Until, that is, the dead whisper that someone’s bewitching children – leaving them husks, empty of joy and strength. It’s on Ropa’s patch, so she feels honor-bound to investigate. Ropa will dice with death as she calls on Zimbabwean magic and Scottish pragmatism to hunt down clues. And although underground Edinburgh hides a wealth of dark secrets, she also discovers an occult library, a magical mentor and some unexpected allies. Yet as shadows lengthen, will the hunter become the hunted?

Poster Placeholder of - 66Alien Day by Rick Wilber

Will Peter Holman rescue his sister Kait, or will she be the one to rescue him? Will Chloe Cary revive her acting career with the help of the princeling Treble, or will the insurgents take both their lives? Will Whistle or Twoclicks wind up in charge of Earth, and how will the Mother, who runs all of S’hudon, choose between them? And the most important question of all: who are the Old Ones that left all that technology behind for the S’hudonni . . . and what if they come back?

June 8

Place holder  of - 37Shadow & Claw by Gene Wolfe

The Book of the New Sun is unanimously acclaimed as Gene Wolfe’s most remarkable work, hailed as “a masterpiece of science fantasy comparable in importance to the major works of Tolkien and Lewis” by Publishers Weekly.

June 22

Image Placeholder of - 98Witness for the Dead by Katherine Addison

When the young half-goblin emperor Maia sought to learn who had set the bombs that killed his father and half-brothers, he turned to an obscure resident of his father’s Court, a Prelate of Ulis and a Witness for the Dead. Thara Celehar found the truth, though it did him no good to discover it. He lost his place as a retainer of his cousin the former Empress, and made far too many enemies among the many factions vying for power in the new Court. The favor of the Emperor is a dangerous coin. Now Celehar’s skills lead him out of the quiet and into a morass of treachery, murder, and injustice. No matter his own background with the imperial house, Celehar will stand with the commoners, and possibly find a light in the darkness.

June 29

Image Place holder  of - 69When the Sparrow Falls by Neil Sharpson

Here, in the last sanctuary for the dying embers of the human race in a world run by artificial intelligence, if you stray from the path – your life is forfeit. But when a Party propagandist is killed – and is discovered as a “machine” – he’s given a new mission: chaperone the widow, Lily, who has arrived to claim her husband’s remains. But when South sees that she, the first “machine” ever allowed into the country, bears an uncanny resemblance to his late wife, he’s thrown into a maelstrom of betrayal, murder, and conspiracy that may bring down the Republic for good.

July 6

The Empire’s Ruin by Brian Staveley

The Annurian Empire is disintegrating. The advantages it used for millennia have fallen to ruin. The ranks of the Kettral have been decimated from within, and the kenta gates, granting instantaneous travel across the vast lands of the empire, can no longer be used. In order to save the empire, one of the surviving Kettral must voyage beyond the edge of the known world through a land that warps and poisons all living things to find the nesting ground of the giant war hawks. Meanwhile, a monk turned con-artist may hold the secret to the kenta gates. But time is running out.

Joker Moon from George R. R. Martin

Theodorus was a dreamer. When the wild card virus touched him and transformed him into a monstrous snail centaur weighing several tons, his boyhood dreams seemed out of reach, but a Witherspoon is not so easily defeated. But now when he looked upward into the night sky, he saw more than just the moon . . . he saw a joker homeland, a refuge where the outcast children of the wild card could make a place of their own, safe from hate and harm. An impossible dream, some said. Others, alarmed by the prospect, brought all their power to bear to oppose him. Theodorus persisted . . .never dreaming that the Moon was already inhabited. And the Moon Maid did not want company.

July 13

The Freedom Race by Lucinda Roy

In the aftermath of a cataclysmic civil war known as the Sequel, ideological divisions among the states have hardened. In the Homestead Territories, an alliance of plantation-inspired holdings, Black labor is imported from the Cradle, and Biracial “Muleseeds” are bred. Raised in captivity on Planting 437, kitchen-seed Jellybean “Ji-ji” Lottermule knows there is only one way to escape. She must enter the annual Freedom Race as a runner. Ji-ji and her friends must exhume a survival story rooted in the collective memory of a kidnapped people and conjure the voices of the dead to light their way home.

The Justice in Revenge by Ryan Van Loan

The island nation of Servenza is a land of flint and steel, sail and gearwork, of gods both Dead and sleeping. It is a society where the wealthy few rule the impoverished many. Determined to change that, former street-rat Buc, along with Eld, the ex-soldier who has been her partner in crime-solving, have claimed seats on the board of the powerful Kanados Trading Company. Buc plans to destroy the nobility from within—which is much harder than she expected.

July 20

She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

In 1345, China lies under harsh Mongol rule. For the starving peasants of the Central Plains, greatness is something found only in stories. When the Zhu family’s eighth-born son, Zhu Chongba, is given a fate of greatness, everyone is mystified as to how it will come to pass. The fate of nothingness received by the family’s clever and capable second daughter, on the other hand, is only as expected. When a bandit attack orphans the two children, though, it is Zhu Chongba who succumbs to despair and dies. Desperate to escape her own fated death, the girl uses her brother’s identity to enter a monastery as a young male novice. There, Zhu learns she is capable of doing whatever it takes to stay hidden from her fate.

August 10

The Rookery by Deborah Hewitt

After discovering her magical ability to see people’s souls, Alice Wyndham only wants three things: to return to the Rookery, join the House Mielikki and master her magic, and find out who she really is. But when the secrets of Alice’s past threaten her plans, and the Rookery begins to crumble around her, she must decide how far she’s willing to go to save the city and people she loves.

Sword & Citadel by Gene Wolfe

Sword & Citadel brings together the final two books of the tetralogy in one volume: The Sword of the Lictor is the third volume in Wolfe’s remarkable epic, chronicling the odyssey of the wandering pilgrim called Severian, driven by a powerful and unfathomable destiny, as he carries out a dark mission far from his home. The Citadel of the Autarch brings The Book of the New Sun to its harrowing conclusion, as Severian clashes in a final reckoning with the dread Autarch, fulfilling an ancient prophecy that will forever alter the realm known as Urth

August 17

Neptune by Ben Bova

In the future, humanity has spread throughout the solar system, on planets and moons once visited only by robots or explored at a distance by far-voyaging spacecraft. Three years ago, Ilona Magyr’s father, Miklos, disappeared while exploring the seas of Neptune. Everyone believes he is dead—crushed, frozen, or boiled alive in Neptune’s turbulent seas. With legendary space explorer Derek Humbolt piloting her ship and planetary scientist Jan Meitner guiding the search, Ilona Magyr knows she will find her father—alive—on Neptune. Her plans are irrevocably altered when she and her team discover the wreckage of an alien ship deep in Neptune’s ocean, a discovery which changes humanity’s understanding of its future…and its past.

The Exiled Fleet by J. S. Dewes

The Sentinels narrowly escaped the collapsing edge of the Divide. They have mustered a few other surviving Sentinels, but with no engines they have no way to leave the edge of the universe before they starve. Adequin Rake has gathered a team to find the materials they’ll need to get everyone out. To do that they’re going to need new allies and evade a ruthless enemy. Some of them will not survive.

August 31

The Devil You Know by Kit Rocha

Maya has had a price on her head from the day she escaped the TechCorps. Genetically engineered for genius and trained for revolution, there’s only one thing she can’t do—forget. Gray has finally broken free of the Protectorate, but he can’t escape the time bomb in his head. His body is rejecting his modifications, and his months are numbered. When Maya’s team uncovers an operation trading in genetically enhanced children, she’ll do anything to stop them. Even risk falling back into the hands of the TechCorps. And Gray has found a purpose for his final days: keeping Maya safe.

Fury of a Demon by Brian Naslund

The war against Osyrus Ward goes poorly for Bershad and Ashlyn. They are pinned in the Dainwood by monstrous alchemical creations and a relentless army of mercenaries, they are running out of options and allies. The Witch Queen struggles with her new powers, knowing that the secret of unlocking her dragon cord is key to stopping Ward’s army, she pushes forward with her experiments. Meanwhile, with every wound Bershad suffers, he gets closer to losing his humanity forever, and as the war rages, the exile turned assassin turned hero isn’t even sure if being human is something he wants.

September 7

You Sexy Thing by Cat Rambo

TwiceFar station is at the edge of the known universe, and that’s just how Niko Larson, former Admiral in the Grand Military of the Hive Mind, likes it. Retired and finally free of the continual war of conquest, Niko and the remnants of her former unit are content to spend the rest of their days working at the restaurant they built together, The Last Chance. But, some wars can’t ever be escaped, and unlike the Hive Mind, some enemies aren’t content to let old soldiers go. Niko and her crew are forced onto a sentient ship convinced that it is being stolen and must survive the machinations of a sadistic pirate king if they even hope to keep the dream of The Last Chance alive.

 

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The Sequels We’ve All Been Waiting For….

They’re almost here…the books we’ve all been waiting for. After so many incredible series starters, we’re excited to finally dive into the next books of some of our most popular SFF series. Check out which books are hitting shelves near you in 2021 here.


book-9780765331458Into the Light by David Weber and Chris Kennedy (Out of the Dark series, coming 1/12/21)

The Shongairi conquered Earth. In mere minutes, half the human race died, and our cities lay in shattered ruins. But the Shongairi didn’t expect the survivors’ tenacity. And, crucially, they didn’t know that Earth harbored two species of intelligent, tool-using bipeds. One of them was us. The other, long-lived and lethal, was hiding in the mountains of eastern Europe, the subject of fantasy and legend. When they emerged and made alliance with humankind, the invading aliens didn’t stand a chance.

book-9781250302137Vengewar by Kevin J. Anderson (Wake the Dragon series, coming 1/19/21)

The Three Kingdoms are shattering under pressure from an inexperienced new King who is being led by an ambitious regent to ignore the threat of the Wreths, in favor of a Vengewar with Ishara. His brother and uncle can see only the danger of the Older Race. In Ishara, the queen lies in a coma, while an ambitious priest seizes power. But he has neither the training nor the talent to rule a nation— or even a city. Ishara is in deadly peril, and the Wreths have not even appeared on their continent.

book-9781250165299Dealbreaker by L. X. Beckett (The Bounceback series, coming 1/26/21)

Rubi Whiting has done the impossible. She has proved that humanity deserves a seat at the galactic table. Well, at least a shot at a seat. Having convinced the galactic governing body that mankind deserves a chance at fixing their own problems, Rubi has done her part to launch the planet into a new golden age of scientific discovery and technological revolution. However, there are still those in the galactic community that think that humanity is too poisonous, too greedy, to be allowed in, and they will stop at nothing to sabotage a species determined to pull itself up.

book-9781250215505Engines of Oblivion by Karen Osborne (The Memory War series, coming 2/9/21)

Natalie Chan gained her corporate citizenship, but barely survived the battle for Tribulation. Now corporate has big plans for Natalie. Horrible plans. Locked away in Natalie’s missing memory is salvation for the last of an alien civilization and the humans they tried to exterminate. The corporation wants total control of both—or their deletion.

book-9780765387752Silence of the Soleri by Michael Johnston (The Amber Throne series, coming 2/16/21)

Solus celebrates the Opening of the Mundus, a two-day holiday for the dead, but the city of the Soleri is hardly in need of diversion. A legion of traitors, led by a former captain of the Soleri military, rallies at the capital’s ancient walls. And inside those fortifications, trapped by circumstance, a second army fights for its very existence.

book-9781250186461A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine (Teixcalaan series, coming 3/2/21)

An alien armada lurks on the edges of Teixcalaanli space. No one can communicate with it, no one can destroy it, and Fleet Captain Nine Hibiscus is running out of options. In a desperate attempt at diplomacy with the mysterious invaders, the fleet captain has sent for a diplomatic envoy. Now Mahit Dzmare and Three Seagrass—still reeling from the recent upheaval in the Empire—face the impossible task of trying to communicate with a hostile entity. Their failure will guarantee millions of deaths in an endless war. Their success might prevent Teixcalaan’s destruction—and allow the empire to continue its rapacious expansion. Or it might create something far stranger . . .

book-97812502226191The Justice in Revenge by Ryan Van Loan (The Fall of the Gods series, coming 7/13/21)

Ryan Van Loan’s The Justice in Revenge, book two of The Fall of the Gods, turns from pirates to politics as Buc learns to navigate society and finds that having power doesn’t mean it’s easy to use it…

Buc and Eld are the first private detectives in the Servenzan Empire. Teenage Buc is a former streetrat, a smartass, sarcastic super-genius. Eld, her patient partner in crime-solving, is a calming influence…who is nonetheless capable of deadly violence. For the right price, these heroes for hire solve mysteries, fight crime, and battle monsters.

book-97812502938242The Exiled Fleet by J. S. Dewes (The Divide Series, coming 8/17/21)

The Sentinels narrowly escaped the collapsing edge of the Divide. They have mustered a few other surviving Sentinels, but with no engines they have no way to leave the edge of the universe before they starve. Adequin Rake has gathered a team to find the materials they’ll need to get everyone out. To do that they’re going to need new allies and evade a ruthless enemy.

Some of them will not survive.

book-97812502093823The Devil You Know by Kit Rocha (Mercenary Librarians series, coming 8/31/21)

Maya has had a price on her head from the day she escaped the TechCorps. Genetically engineered for genius and trained for revolution, there’s only one thing she can’t do—forget. Gray has finally broken free of the Protectorate, but he can’t escape the time bomb in his head. His body is rejecting his modifications, and his months are numbered. When Maya’s team uncovers an operation trading in genetically enhanced children, she’ll do anything to stop them. Even risk falling back into the hands of the TechCorps. And Gray has found a purpose for his final days: keeping Maya safe.

book-97812502938244Wanderers of a Mortal Kind by Kel Kade (The Shroud of Prophecy series, coming 11/9/21) 

No more heroes. The wealthy and powerful. The kings and queens. They all abandoned the world to fate when the chosen one died. All except a small group of broken people. Through dogged determination and maybe a bit of stupid bravery, Aaslo and his friends fought on. They continued the fight even when far greater heroes had given up. Now, Aaslo must turn the tides. In a world swifly falling to chaos, Aaslo is determined to win this war…at any cost. He’s made a deal with fickle fae, setting him and his friends on a collosion course with the gods themselves.

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