An armada that never dies. A society on the verge.
Every 30 days, Fleet Eternal arrives to surround the planet and lay siege to a complacent populace. Its armaments are unbeatable, its numbers uncountable, but the terrifying assault has one fatal flaw: a mere .01% loss in combat strength triggers automatic retreat and reset.
For decades, the Unified Fiduciary Dominion has relied on the Board and its military contractors to defend the planet and maintain the knife’s edge of survival. Now, riven by greed and false confidence, those corporate lords have abandoned their duty in pursuit of political power.
The tactics of the Alpha Vector Defense Corps have served for generations—so why are they suddenly faltering? And why do Board members seem increasingly unconcerned with the tenuous state of the system? Armed with the exclusive authority to investigate, one fussy ex-military reporter must partner with a generous Madame to chase down the story behind a string of failed battles—and pray they find answers before the districts are turned to ash.
As casualties rise, The Interviewer faces deadly resistance … and discovers a disturbing conspiracy at the highest ranks.
The world’s security is careening toward disaster, and this whistleblower is running out of time. But when every answer seems to bring more questions, one reminder guides the way:
Don’t come here looking for truth. This is just a pack of lies and the end of the world.
A genre-busting dramedy & political satire thriller in military sci-fi clothing.
[The Interviewer]
So, tell me what you think about love.
[Stephen M.A.]
Love bites.
(laughs)
[The Interviewer]
Har, har. Thank you to our host, by the way.
…
Did you really just fake laughter in writing?
[Stephen M.A.]
I was really laughing.
[Int.]
(sighs)
Yes, I know.
[SM.A.]
It’s interesting, actually. Obviously, as you know, I went into this book completely focused on the thematic and plot angles. All the characters that populate this little planet now just sort of sprung out of me when it was time for them in the story. It was an unusual writing process in that way, for me at least.
…
Anyhow, through the course of those characters developing into real people—at least inside my mind—relationships began to build themselves organically. Quite strongly, in several cases. Especially by the end.
[Int.]
Mm.
[SM.A.]
I’m afraid anybody looking for rose petals and heartfelt declarations is likely to be disappointed.
[Int.]
Indeed.
[SM.A.]
Still, it’s my opinion that, despite my focus on the plot while writing, it’s the relationship between these characters that builds the ultimate spine of the narrative. They don’t often take the spotlight, but it’s my hope that they all shine through so strongly in the fabric of everything else that it still has an impact. Certainly, there are still several points in the tale that choke me up, even now. And definitely did while I was writing. Embarrassingly so, in a few cases.
[Int.]
Agreed.
[SM.A.]
Well, sure, but you’re in here with me, so just let me feel my feelings, okay?
[Int.]
Seriously? Why would you remind me of that? Here we’re just starting to have a serious conversation for once, I’m enjoying my autonomy, away from your quarantine nutjob—out here in the real world like a big—
…
You know what, why don’t we just wrap this up? I have a penthouse to get back to.
[SM.A.]
Uh, I wrote several more questions for—
[Int.]
Yes, yes, I’ve read them. Let me just skip to the important bits, okay?
[SM.A.]
(sighs)
Fine, go ahead.
[Int.]
And that’ll do us, folks! Thanks so much to Love Bytes for having us! Grab Tiny Planet Filled With Liars on Kindle Unlimited today!
[SM.A.]
I really hate you sometimes.
[Int.]
Mm, yes, I can feel the fabric of it.
[SM.A.]
Goodbye.
[Int.]
Goodbye!
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Bartimus Caldwell
Alpha Vector Operations Center
DURING incursions Bartimus Caldwell often feels chained to his desk.
Though incursion has initiated in the late afternoon (within a Unified Time Stamp of plus or minus 30 seconds) for the last twenty-six-and-one-half years, all personnel Grades V and below are still required to take stations no later than 0600 on the morning of.
Bartimus hates waking up so early, which may be why he avoided commission for so many years. It is to his great misfortune that he’s a whiz kid with sensor analysis, and inevitably discovered that Central Board Oversight had been made aware of his talents when he was abruptly recruited (then indentured) for a 20-year service stint four years ago, precisely two weeks after his 31st birthday. At the time he was gainfully (and happily) employed in the remote sexual screening industry, but that’s not relevant to this portion of his story.
Bartimus Caldwell’s desk, which binds him so readily, is located on the upper balcony of the Alpha Vector Operations Center, when under the command of Central Board Oversight.
This room represents the most exclusive and highly classified product catalogs of no less than three dozen military contractors. However, those who’ve bothered to learn as much know that in reality only two conglomerates perch atop the corporate meta-structure which hides its many tendrils behind each of those contractors.
In some professions, as you know, acknowledging this easily verifiable duopoly is quite literally illegal. For instance, service personnel are forbidden to acknowledge or discuss, in any capacity, any information that might insinuate that the dozens of military contractors working with Central Board Oversight are not in fact plucky small businesses that have been rightfully rewarded with thick and hefty revenue streams by virtue of patriotism and good old-fashioned UFD entrepreneurship.
Bartimus Caldwell adheres to this policy with unerring slavishness and would never even think of speaking ill toward the contractors. I know this because he has assured me of it several times.
When Alpha Vector Defense is not under the command of Central Board Oversight, Bartimus Caldwell’s desk is in the auxiliary hangar, packed in alongside the other 382 service members in the unit. In that venue, each such member enjoys no less than two square meters of personal space in which to perform their duties, of which their auxiliary desk takes up no more than one-point-two-five square meters.
Bartimus Caldwell bubbles with gratitude toward the military for providing this generously outfitted working space to its service members. I know this because he has assured me of it several times.
However, this was an incursion week, which meant that Board members would be in attendance for their usual round of post-contact media conferences and photo opportunities, which meant Bartimus Caldwell and his unit were stationed in the Alpha Vector Operations Center, showcasing the finest product catalogs of the military contractors owned by said members of the Board.
From his desk in the front ring on the upper balcony of the Alpha Vector Operations Center, Bartimus enjoys an unobstructed view of the entire room. Behind him on the octagonal balcony, which encircles the entire outer wall of the Operations Center, two more layers of desks and control consoles are laid out, fully staffed with unit members of Grades II and I.
The bidding wars to manufacture the desks used on the balcony have been quite fierce in recent years, and a new contract seems to be assigned every other month. Bartimus has grown quite used to arriving for OC duty and discovering a brand new desk in front of his seat, though thankfully, after one long stretch of genuine UX insanity, a regulatory design decree was issued that now ensures the general layout and functionality of each new desk model is largely the same as the last.
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