A sneak peek inside "Lost Planet"

Releasing on June 27th

Lost Planet, the second installment in the bestselling Starship of the Ancients series, will be released on June 27th. This novel picks up right where Stranded left off. Below is a sneak peek at the first chapter of the book.

Evan and Anya have escaped Aethos, but there’s no evading the new target on their backs. Everyone wants the ancient alien starship now under Evan’s command, and they’ll claim it at any cost. As they embark on an ambitious investigation to track down the ship’s builders, Evan and Anya soon discover that the interstellar plot to transform the Commonwealth with alien tech runs much deeper than they’d ever imagined. With opposing factions vying for control of the alien tech, Evan and Anya will need to pick a side. Can they keep the ship from falling into the wrong hands?

You can pre-order Lost Planet now, and it will be available in Kindle Unlimited upon release. I hope you enjoy this continuation of Evan and Anya's story!

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1

Being kidnapped by an ancient alien spaceship was not how Evan had expected his day to go. Fully locked out of the controls, he and Anya were simply along for the ride—wherever the ship had decided to take them.

Evan’s heart pounded in his ears and his chest was tight with anticipation. They’d launched from the hidden cavern on Aethos and then headed directly into space, which had never been the plan. All they’d wanted to do was take the ship to the other side of the planet to regroup and figure out their next move.

Instead, strange golden particles were now swirling around the alien starship. They had appeared to flow from a hiding place on Aethos’ smallest moon, presumably dormant since the ship had landed on the planet. The particles formed an organized framework around the vessel as it soared into open space away from Aethos. They’d arranged into a series of interlocking bands—a latticework, of sorts—spinning along the length of the vessel.

“Do not fear,” the ship’s AI said. No speakers were visible, but the synthesized-sounding voice filled the flight deck. “I will take you to my homeworld now, and you will see how this structure creates a localized jump field to enable interstellar travel.”

“Looking forward to seeing it in action,” Evan said, wondering how much of his anxiety the ship could pick up through their telepathic link.

Anya glanced at Evan as she held his hand, her expression a mixture of apprehension and wonder at the engineering marvel. “Why were these components waiting up here in space?”

“This material is fragile and not designed for atmospheric entry,” the AI explained. “It exists to fulfill its purpose, not to serve me.”

Evan’s skin prickled with excitement. “Does that mean it’s modular? Could it be used with any ship?”

“Provided the necessary integrations were in place, yes.”

“How would—”

“Do not seek to control what you do not yet understand.” The AI’s firm tone sent a chill down Evan’s spine.

Through the viewport, the latticework’s rotation rapidly accelerated until it became a golden blur encompassing the starship.

“What will happen to us when we jump?” Anya asked, always taking a scientific perspective.

“You organics will suffer no ill-effects,” the ship’s onboard AI replied.

Evan couldn’t put complete stock in the ship’s assessment since it had only seen humans for the first time mere minutes before, when he and Anya had boarded. However, if the ship wanted them dead, it could have opened an airlock as soon as they flew into space. He had to trust that whatever it had gleaned from its scans of them was enough to understand basic human physiological needs.

“I don’t want you to die,” the ship added, apparently glimpsing Evan’s thoughts again.

The AI’s uncanny telepathic connection to Evan was both helpful and alarming. Though it seemed friendly enough, Evan was wary of the sentient alien artificial intelligence.

However, it was too late to second-guess anything now.

The stars outside the viewport stretched into streaks before winking out, replaced by an eerie void with abstract bands of color shimmering beyond the golden glow. The air seemed thicker, but Evan was almost certain that was just his imagination.

“Where are we?” he asked tentatively.

“In the realm outside what you would call spacetime,” the ship replied.

Evan tried to wrap his mind around the wonder he was witnessing. Independent jumps from point-to-point were a theoretical fantasy, according to conventional science. Despite countless models and hypothetical designs, the best humanity had been able to achieve was interstellar travel through fixed gates. Ships would enter one of the approximately two hundred rings in the network and come out at their chosen destination, passing through a stable artificial wormhole between the two gates. It was an excellent system, but extremely constrained by the limited number of rings located around the Commonwealth’s territory.

But this alien vessel’s process of generating a localized spatial distortion to jump to any location at will… it defied all previously held limitations of space travel. To possess such a technology would alter the entire landscape of the Commonwealth and open up untold possibilities.

Anya met Evan’s gaze with wonder in her eyes. For days, they’d been talking about alien technology and how it might be harnessed, but actually seeing it in practice made it all real.

“What are we going to do?” she murmured.

“We have to find out everything we can.” The alien ship had promised to take them to its homeworld to meet its makers, and that was the best prospect they’d had to get meaningful answers since their crash on Aethos. It was pointless to make any plans until they’d seen the alien world and knew what kind of civilization they were dealing with.

Anya stared straight ahead at the incredible view of hyperspace. “It’s beautiful.”

Evan stood next to her. “Yeah, this is wild.”

“I never dreamed this was possible.”

“I had hopes, but I never thought it would be in my lifetime.”

The invention of transit gates had been a game-changer for humanity nearly three centuries before. Coupled with the one-quarter light-speed Forbes Drive, ships could hop through the closest available gate and then travel through normal space for the rest of the journey. That method had enabled an approximately two-month transit time to Aethos, which would have taken years without the initial gate hop.

Most planets in the core worlds had their own gate, but new settlements in the outer realms usually required months of travel through normal space. The advent of the Slingshot had been critical to those expeditions—catapulting huge ships from port so they didn’t need to burn onboard fuel in the initial acceleration, allowing more efficient allocation of resources and longer journeys. It offered a significant advantage to anyone with deep enough pockets to afford the service, and NovaTech was a top customer for its massive colony expedition ships. Still, there were significant limitations to humanity’s expansion across the stars. Those constraints would no longer apply with point-to-point jumps.

During their brief meeting on Aethos, Chancellor Conroy had impressed how revolutionary the discovery of the alien ship might be. Evan hadn’t placed much stock in the statement at the time, but seeing the wonderous feat firsthand changed his perspective. But nowhere in Conroy’s pitch had he factored in a sentient ship. This wasn’t simply a vessel to be taken and controlled.

We have a real opportunity here. We need to build a relationship, Evan realized. And that meant treating this AI like any new acquaintance. “You probably picked this up in my mind already, but I’m Evan and this is Anya. How should we refer to you?”

“You may call me Sam.”

Anya tilted her head. “That doesn’t sound very alien.”

“My designation in the native tongue of my makers would be difficult for you to pronounce.”

“Why Sam?” she questioned.

“It works as an acronym for Sentient Autonomous Machine, which I am. It is also an appropriate truncation of this vessel’s designation, the Asamar. And the name also elicits a positive memory association in Evan.”

“An old teacher, from when I was young,” Evan said. “It’s freaking me out that you can read my mind so easily—things I’m not even thinking about.”

“How have your kind mastered interstellar flight without understanding neural interface?”

Anya shook her head. “No, we can… just not without a dedicated device, and not things we aren’t actively thinking about.”

“And we value personal privacy,” Evan added. There were a lot of things floating around in his inner mind that he didn’t want the ship knowing, and especially not blabbing about.

“I apologize. I meant no offense.”

“It might be better for all of us if we could have a conversation rather than you making decisions like we aren’t here,” Evan said.

“We would not be on this journey were it not for your presence.” Sam sounded almost offended, if the AI was capable of that emotion.

“And we appreciate the ride. But you should know from being in my mind that we humans are extremely stubborn and like to be in control.”

“You also suffer from an unearned superiority complex.”

“Oh, I do? You—”

“Hey!” Anya spread her arms. “Let’s not argue with the ship that currently has complete control of our lives, okay?”

Evan took a deep breath to calm himself. “Sorry, Sam.”

“I can’t fault your nature.”

This ship might drive me crazy. He tried to keep the thought to himself.

AIs were common enough across the human worlds, but they were usually light on personality and designed for utility. Prior attempts at sentient synthetic consciousness had backfired in spectacular ways over the centuries, so such AIs were rare in modern times. Like human beings, some were kind and compassionate, while others were prone to murderous inclinations. A society could only take a gamble so many times on which brand they’d get before it made more sense to keep the guardrails on the AI models and treat them as a tool rather than a lifeform. After only a few minutes with this ship’s sentient AI, Evan could understand why past generations had come to that conclusion. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t form a productive relationship with Sam—they’d just need to find common ground, like any new friendship.

“So, Sam,” Anya continued, “it sounds like it’s to our mutual benefit to work together.”

“Yes, Anya,” the AI replied. “I would like to help you with your mission, and you can teach me about your human culture.”

The proposal sounded innocent enough, but Evan shot Anya a cautionary glance. They couldn’t entrust this sentient computer with details about their people, at least any more than it had already gleaned from his mind. It could turn on them at any moment, and he refused to inadvertently play a role in humanity’s downfall by engaging in idle conversation with an unknown entity.

“Helping friends in need is at the heart of our culture,” Evan stated before Anya could say anything. “Take Anya and me, for example. A week ago, we’d never even talked. But when our ship crashed, we became friends and have helped each other survive. And then you offered to help us, so I think we have that trait in common.”

Sam was silent for several seconds. “Some among my makers thought that we should avoid all strangers. Others wanted to explore.”

“You ended up on another planet. Are you one of the explorers?” Anya asked.

“No, I had a different purpose.”

“And what was that?” Evan questioned.

“My post was the planet you call Aethos. I did not expect to find anything new.”

Evan tried not to be annoyed by the AI’s evasion of his core question about its mission. “And yet, you found us.”

“I did. You have shown me that not everything unknown is to be feared.”

Though some of the tension eased in Evan’s chest with the positive words, he was acutely aware that not all humans were as friendly or compassionate. Whatever initial impression Sam was gaining about the human species could be quickly undone; even one encounter with a member of the Noche Syndicate would paint a very different picture about the darker qualities of humanity.

Evan searched for the right words to explain. “Sam, it sounds like factions of your makers hold different opinions, right? Well, it’s the same way with humans. And while having a variety of perspectives can be good for a society, it can also lead to conflict. In some cases, those disagreements are so extreme that humans will turn on each other to fight over which idea is correct.”

“You mean war?”

“Yes. Those are extreme cases, but there’s a long history of fighting, unfortunately. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of us. However, the last thing I want is for you to think I’m trying to hide something from you. I know you can see into my mind, so I want to be upfront and honest.”

“Transparent communication is an important foundation for friendship,” the AI stated.

Evan smiled. “Very insightful.”

“You are guarded, but I do see the honesty in your mind. I see the logic in your perspective. And I understand your intent.” Sam paused. “I accept your offer of friendship.”

“Thank you,” Anya said. “I hope this is the start of something good. I think we should also point out that Evan and I are two nobodies in the grand scheme of human civilization. We can’t speak on behalf of our race.”

“Nor may I speak for my makers,” the AI acknowledged. “Soon, you may speak with my people and decide on a path forward.”

Streaks of stars appeared outside the viewport and abruptly snapped to points. Evan got a momentary sense of vertigo as his senses reoriented. The golden glow outside the viewport faded until the individual particles making up the latticework were once again visible.

Rather than an open starscape, a planet lay before them. It was covered in clouds, but what little land was visible had a brownish hue. Surprisingly, there were no visible orbital structures out the viewport or showing up on the scan data screen. For an advanced civilization with starships colonizing remote worlds, that caught Evan by surprise.

“Hey, Sam,” Evan began cautiously, “do your people use space docks?”

“Yes.”

He frowned. “Where are they?”

The AI didn’t reply for several seconds. “There should be docks here. I am also not receiving any transmissions from the surface. However… something appears to have come along inside the displacement field when we jumped from Aethos.”

Evan’s stomach turned over. “What kind of ‘something’?”

“A probe.”

“Shit!” His pulse spiked. “They’ll know where we are.”

“And where is that, exactly?” Anya asked.

“Given what I have discerned about your interstellar capabilities, it would take many years to reach this planet,” Sam stated. “There is no immediate danger of pursuit.”

“All the same, destroy it,” Evan said. “Our enemies don’t need to know any more about this place.”

“Why should I destroy the probe if it poses no threat?” the AI asked.

“Every minute that device is here, it’s collecting data. And as long as it’s around, there’s a risk of it following us if we go elsewhere. It might not pose an immediate threat, but I can think of no upside to keeping it around.”

“I understand.”

A beam of white light shot out from the ship, instantly turning the probe to dust.

Those weapons could definitely come in handy. Evan breathed a little easier knowing they were no longer being observed. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Next question. Is anyone home?” Anya asked, nodding toward the planet.

“That requires a closer investigation,” Sam said.

Without waiting for the humans to reply, the AI directed the Asamar closer to the planet.

The ship descended through the atmosphere with barely any vibration. The advanced stabilizers on most human craft minimized the disturbance, but it was still obvious when a vessel was heading into atmo. On this ship, if he’d had his eyes closed, Evan wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between outer space and the rapid descent. Then again, this race had figured out how to master near-instantaneous travel across incredible distances, so making a ship not shake while flying around was a comparatively minor feat.

They broke through the upper layer of clouds, granting a first look at the world below. Evan was encouraged to see scattered patches of pale green in the landscape, indicating plant life. He was acutely aware that they had limited supplies and would quickly go hungry if they couldn’t find food on this planet.

Less encouraging was that he saw no signs of an active civilization. When traveling to any human-occupied world, there were almost always some other ships visible in the sky, or at least evidence of habitation on the surface. He saw neither through the viewport.

“Sam, where is everyone?” Evan asked.

“This is home. There were…” The AI faded out.

Evan wouldn’t have thought he could feel sympathy for a machine, but Sam wasn’t like other computers. “How long were you dormant on Aethos?”

“Six-thousand-two-hundred-eighty-one years.”

Anya winced. “Have you been out of communication all that time?”

“Yes. I didn’t realize it had been so long. I hadn’t thought about what might have changed.”

As frustrating as it was to be dealing with a confused and ill-informed AI, Evan couldn’t bring himself to be upset with Sam. He’d experienced enough loss in his own life that he empathized with what the AI must be going through as it came to realize that everyone and everything it once knew had been gone for millennia. No chance to make up for lost time or say goodbye. Just… gone.

Anya’s brows pinched as she mulled over their plight, eventually meeting Evan’s eyes. “Sam, we’d like to find out what happened to your people,” she said. “Can you land us in a place where we might be able to gather data?”

“Yes, I will take you to the location of the capital city.” Sam’s flat tone belied a deeper sadness to the words. Perhaps it was Evan’s inexplicable telepathic connection to the ship, but he got the distinct sense that the AI was silently grieving.

The Asamar accelerated on a new course across the planet, cruising at high elevation. The view was occasionally obstructed by clouds, but what barren scenery Evan could make out reinforced a grim picture of the planet’s—and its inhabitants’—fate.

Several hundred kilometers from their initial atmospheric entry point, Sam descended toward a flat expanse at the foot of a jagged mountain range.

The setting could have been beautiful in the past, with the striking peaks as a backdrop for a city. But there were no buildings now, or even ruins to suggest that the area had ever been inhabited. Nor were there any hints of green.

“Did the city crumble over time?” Evan asked.

“There should still be signs of remains here,” Sam replied. “They must have been destroyed.”

Anya looked at Evan with concern. “By something like the sphere?”

“Sam, the technology of your people that lets you rearrange matter to construct buildings… does that also allow structures to be disassembled?”

“It can, yes. But that is not something my people would have done here.”

“Not even in a war?” Anya asked.

“I am missing too much history to make a definitive determination.”

Evan nodded. “Well, if there’s anything to learn, we’ll find the answers out there.”

<End of preview>

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Lost Planet will release on June 27, 2025

Grab your copy on Amazon!

https://books2read.com/SOTA2