About the Book
Title: The McKenzie Files
Author: Barry K. Nelson
Genre: Science-Fiction
The United Protectorate is
under attack by the Brelac, a bloodthirsty reptilian alien race bent on
destroying humanity. A dark alliance between the Brelac and the Vendetta, a
separatist organization, looms over the Protectorate. The Brelac's onslaught
brings forth the creation of the genetically engineered humanoid weapons called
Reploids. Reploids are identical copies of real humans captured, killed,
cloned, embedded with powerful psionic abilities, and programmed to serve the
Brelac. They are untraceable and blend into human society so believably, the
Reploids themselves do not know they are clones.
Colin McKenzie, part of a military team sent to a remote planet to investigate and capture a downed Brelac ship, turns on his commanding officer in an attempt to protect a shipwrecked band of Brelac soldiers. But he is captured and reprogrammed - along with two other arrested Reploids - to serve the government they were originally created to destroy.
The balance is upset when a weapon powerful enough to bring the Protectorate to its knees is about to be unleashed - and the Protectorate's only hope of stopping it is the three Reploids.
Colin McKenzie, part of a military team sent to a remote planet to investigate and capture a downed Brelac ship, turns on his commanding officer in an attempt to protect a shipwrecked band of Brelac soldiers. But he is captured and reprogrammed - along with two other arrested Reploids - to serve the government they were originally created to destroy.
The balance is upset when a weapon powerful enough to bring the Protectorate to its knees is about to be unleashed - and the Protectorate's only hope of stopping it is the three Reploids.
Author Bio
A Pennsylvania native,
Barry K. Nelson has attended college and has worked at a
variety of jobs, including retail and the corporate environment. Barry enjoys reading and gardening and is a fan of science
fiction and horror movies, Marvel comic collecting, and the X-box gaming.
Barry has written several short stories, and his first book in the science fiction series, The McKenzie Files, followed by the sequels, Assassination Anxiety, Obliteration, and Maximum Deevor.
Barry is a member of Ning and Goodreads, can be found on Facebook, and can also be reached through Dreaming Big Publications.
Barry has written several short stories, and his first book in the science fiction series, The McKenzie Files, followed by the sequels, Assassination Anxiety, Obliteration, and Maximum Deevor.
Barry is a member of Ning and Goodreads, can be found on Facebook, and can also be reached through Dreaming Big Publications.
Links
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/barry.k.nelson
Publisher: http://www.dreamingbigpublications.com
Amazon (eBook): https://www.amazon.com/McKenzie-Files-Barry-Nelson-ebook/dp/B07FTJ4C9V/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1534348561&sr=1-4
Amazon (Paperback): https://www.amazon.com/McKenzie-Files-Book-One/dp/1947381040/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1534348561&sr=1-4
Book Excerpt
For
a moment the Brelac standing before Fenlow remained silent. Fenlow’s skin
twitched, apprehensive as to what would happen next. He had limited personal
involvement with these creatures, but knew that they were as unpredictable as
they were vicious. He eyed the rows of long teeth under the curled lips and
suppressed a shudder.
The
Brelac uttered a deep growl to slowly form a single name. “Fenlow. So, you’re
the Great Doctor Fenlow. One of the first traitors in the brief history of this
war. We finally meet.”
“I
find the word traitor to be a little too malignant to suit my purpose,” Fenlow
said quickly. “I’d like to think of myself as an entrepreneur.”
The
Brelac growled again. Showing more of his sharp teeth. “Traitor, entrepreneur.
It’s all the same to me. The point is that you’re here. The question is, why?”
“I’m
here to speak to Bane Mariner. I have a proposition for him.”
“You are addressing
Governor General Bane Mariner. Supreme Commander of the Brelac Empire. And I
hope that your proposition is worth my time.”
“It
is,” Fenlow assured him. “What I’m about to propose will greatly benefit both
you and my company.”
“Carp
Technologies,” Mariner leaned back on his heels, his tail stretching out to
counterbalance his shifting weight. “I admire your company. Playing both sides
of the war for their own benefit. All the while maintaining the facade of a
benevolent corporation serving your little corner of the universe. I wonder,
what your people would say if they knew that you and your company were working
with us to create the Reploid menace?”
“I’m…I’m
afraid that the Reploid program has been discontinued for the present time.
More especially the advanced Reploids. En-route to Helios on the planet Meridan
one of your shuttles carrying several Reploid units was shot down by
Protectorate forces. Three Reploids were captured by the military. Carp
considered this to be a threat to company security and decided to halt the
project.”
Fenlow
withheld the fact that he himself had recommended halting the project. Aided by
Carp’s resources, Fenlow produced the Reploids in a laboratory within a company
research vessel stationed at a secret location in space. Fenlow notified his
Brelac contact on a secured channel when each shipment of Reploids would be due
for delivery, and would then meet a Brelac transport shuttle at a designated
rendezvous point.
Curious
about the Brelac’s vision without the use of physical eyes, Fenlow had asked to
examine their psionic implants. After months of extensive research he’d been
able to create a more advanced version of the implants, and promised to deliver
dozens of Reploids armed with the implants to help the Brelac achieve a swifter
victory. Highly treasonous acts that would certainly earn Fenlow and others
within Carp Technologies a swift death sentence.
“Those
Reploids in the hands of your military could pose a problem,” Mariner stated,
cracking his knuckles.
“They’re
no threat. There are only three of them. The military will make limited use of
their abilities, and I’ve already taken steps to diminish their effectiveness,”
Fenlow paused. “Carp’s board of directors has decided to move forward with
Operation Broad Axe. I have to do what I can to insure that the plan is
successful. This means that I have to begin some of the more advanced projects
that I’ve been working on.”
“And
you need my help to pull all this off,” Mariner added. He went silent, his eyeless
face studying Fenlow. “Let him go,” he growled.
Both
guards raised their left hands to their heads in a familiar military salute and
exited the hall with haste.
Fenlow
thought that it was curious how the two Brelac saluted in such a fashion. As if
they were mimicking human troopers. He suspected that he would learn a great
deal about these creatures by working closely among them in the days ahead.
“Fix
this man a seat next to mine,” Mariner blared out. “He’s my guest of honor.”
The
attendants serving food and drink quickly provided a place at the table on
Mariner’s right side, and Fenlow sat as instructed, his hands slightly shaking
in his lap. Using a long, two-pronged fork an attendant quickly loaded his
plate with three long sections of the pale snake-like meats and two of the
centipedes, steam rising from their cooked flesh.
Fenlow
stared at his plate. The appearance of the food before him was nauseating
enough, but it’s oily smell combined with a sour milk odor left him near
paralyzed. Mariner silently faced him, and a thin stream of saliva dripped out
of the right side of his mouth. Fenlow shuddered, slightly spooked in the close
sight of Mariner’s scaled face and the long pointed teeth in the constant grin.
Fenlow
nervously cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re not serving any salads.”
A
faint, hoarse growl came from Mariner’s throat. “Nothing so elaborate here.”
“I
see.”
Fenlow
looked to the left and right side of his plate and saw no silverware. He
quietly groaned in frustration. It was evident that the Brelac were eating with
their hands, and Fenlow desired to blend in with his hosts. He gingerly picked
up a centipede. It was warm and soft to the touch. He held it up to his face
and managed not to flinch away. At least he was able to distinguish which item
smelled like sour milk.
A
deep grunt came from Mariner. “You look like you were just kissed by Pandora.
Don’t worry, Doctor. It won’t bite you back.”
Kissed
by Pandora. A strange terminology to use. Perhaps an example of their alien
culture?
But
the name, Pandora, stuck in Fenlow’s mind. There was something familiar about
it. He thought that this would be the perfect time to get a little more
background on his allies. He laid his centipede back down on his plate but kept
his fingers on it.
“So,
I’ve done a little research and found that you Brelac are Reploids yourselves,”
he said.
“To
a degree we are all the same,” Mariner sluggishly droned out, grabbing his own
centipede and downing it in one loud gulp. “Our race needed a technological
means to insure its continuation.”
“A
technological means,” Fenlow repeated. “And what of your females? I noticed
that through all the grunting and growling you all sound male.”
“As
I have already explained, we are all the same,” Mariner said. “We have created
the means of producing the perfect military force. Our soldiers originate from
templates that are devoid of fear, unhindered by compassionate doubts, and
minds that are not mired by the frivolous aberrations that obstruct you
humans.”
“What
about these original templates that you mentioned? I’m assuming that it’s some
sort of original genetic stock.”
“Our
original source is centuries old and continues to endure. But its history is
not important.” He waved a clawed hand. “All that matters is that it serves us
as we produce our numbers en-masse in order to achieve our objective.”
“And
that objective would be?” Fenlow asked, suspecting he already knew the answer.
“Our
objective is to spread ourselves across this universe and administer
retribution to any and all opposition. Then we will become the only supreme
power. That is our mission passed down to us through generations.
This is what we will achieve. And you, Doctor Fenlow, will
help us.”
Fenlow
pondered Mariner’s words, fingertips stroking the soft white flesh of the
centipede on his plate. He was still dreading the notion of being
forced to eat this thing.
The
Brelac mission of conquest and retribution. A chilling thought.
But
Fenlow’s job was to find a way to work Carp Technologies’ interests into the
mission so that their own plans could materialize unscathed. And with the
Brelac’s help his job would be much easier.
“I’ll
help you,” Fenlow told him, nodding.
He
took a long look at the centipede he was holding. He picked it up and slowly
raised it to his face, holding his breath against the smell. He opened his mouth.
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