Sois Sage - Softcover

Tuluka, Rais

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1546201394 ISBN 13: 9781546201397

Publisher: AuthorHouse, 2018

Synopsis

Earth has been dying…

Would you become God to save a planet and her people?

A manic genius, young girl, lone wolf, and synthetic-droid have their destinies intertwined…

Sage Solei is a passionate girl seeking to give her little brother Gideon the love they lack. She functions as a protector, swearing to her father that she will always look after him. Her parents, along with the rest of the planet, spend the totality of their days slaving in Earth’s mines, forced to dig up a raw, mysterious power source named “Hard-B.”

Humanity resides on two worlds: Earth and Alton IV. As part of a one-sided deal with beings from Alton IV, two conditions must be met. First, The Supreme Chancellor of Earth must make the poor slave in the Hard-B mines. Second, a fresh crop of wealthy citizens must be shipped off to Alton IV for unspecified reasons.

Taking both worlds by sudden surprise, the Supreme Chancellor decides to sever the deal in the name of freedom. It is for freedom, right? From that decision, war begins to loom in the space between the two planets. The charismatic Supreme Chancellor inspires the people of Earth to support a war between worlds.

Meanwhile…A powerful group on Alton IV believes that the Supreme Chancellor shouldn’t live. The entities from Alton IV send an emissary to find the Supreme Chancellor’s replacement while the group, headed by the powerful Mister Dominic, work on a plan to assassinate the troublesome despot.

Chaos proceeds to bloom. A determined Sage fights to keep her brother safe while the planet begins to delve deeper toward war, madness, and lawlessness.

In Sage’s journey, she uncovers the truth about Earth’s history, Alton IV’s foundation, the Supreme Chancellor’s true nature, the mysterious Mister Dominic, the war, and even herself.

“Rais Tuluka describes a riveting story with strong characters. If there are any sci-fi lovers out there, here is a new author and book for you to discover!

You will find yourself in the middle of the author’s world thanks to realistic descriptions and the smooth flow of story. We enjoyed a lot while reading this book!

We will be looking forward to hearing from Rais Tuluka for the new books! And we are sure that you will also enjoy this rich and interesting story from such a young author!

This page turner book is accessible on Amazon” - LiteratureDawn

About this title

About the Author

There is a new voice seeking to shape the landscape of science fiction. Rais Tuluka writes with excruciating detail, flair, and a robust sense of imagination. This writer brings to life a future that has seldom been imagined by his predecessors. With Sois Sage, Rais Tuluka sows the seeds of a thought-provoking, classic science fiction masterpiece. His sensibilities tap into the lineage of Bradbury, Orwell, Rand, Dick, and Huxley. This is a writer that possesses a stylish version of gritty science fiction and fantasy that will persist for generations to come.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Sois Sage

By Rais Tuluka

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2018 Rais Tuluka
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-5462-0139-7

CHAPTER 1

With gentle winds that fl owed serene through the bright teal skies, the pointed tower remained sturdy: a symbol of absolution and pure perfection. The tower's exterior was magnificently reflective, shooting back the illustrious light of the planet's glorious two suns off of its surface and back at the pair of bold red and yellow stars beyond blue-green visible heavens.

Housed calmly inside of the tip of the pointed tower was a small group of men who would come to sit regularly in a large boardroom bombarded white, very low light. The handful of men would sit for hours on end, exchanging their deliberately witty diatribes and an assortment of opinions on current events both foreign and domestic in nature.

Outside of the tower, the world could've been in a bewildering blaze that burned buildings as if they were blades of grass on a plain, but with one gaze at the demeanors of those few men it would be hard to tell if calamity was even a possibility. What mattered most were those who were present. What mattered foremost was the sanctity of the room. Religiously, they laughed and teased one another before they really got down to the brass-tax of what they assembled for. They gathered on the last Sunday of every month in order to discuss what would be the make up of the future. With earnest, they philosophized about their place in the vastness of an ever changing tomorrow. They refused to be forgotten about. They were afraid? Maybe.

A couple of the bodies swiveled back and forth in their hovering chairs. Like yolk, they sat within the white half-shell looking seats made of a dull, almost plastic looking material. The room was smooth, soft to the eyes and heart; contrasting the old, leathery flesh of the men who chattered inside of it. Men who were distinguished in their own individual right; with suits and ties that accompanied a mixture of discerning and playful looks equally intertwined amongst the bunch. The nature in which they were distinguished came from a manner far more valuable than the physical realm.

Other than absurd jokes and tactful plots, a common phenomena found within the room was the exceedingly cold air that cycled dutifully through it in the rotation of heavy waves. There was an insatiable coldness forever among the group that they all grew numb to long ago. All except one:

"Come on now, Bustine, you know as good as I do that an office is only good for one thing and one thing only." Mister Towerly said, the slyest of smiles on his chubby wrinkled face.

Judging by the ashamed looks on a majority of the faces around the room, the punchline to Mister Towerly's joke was known by many except the one inquisitive individual present:

"No, I haven't the faintest clue. What is it good for, Towerly? Don't make me have to start guessing like a child does for his holiday gifts," responded the comparatively younger Mister Bustine, who sarcastically anticipated the response to his senior member's joke. Mister Bustine was virtually expressionless as usual, even though he recently told what he hoped to be perceived as a sarcastic dig.

"If you don't know it at this stage in your life then there might be a problem here, mate. Maybe you'll be able to get it when you have a wife, some kids, and a mistress, young man." Mister Weaver commented in a condescending tone from across the table. He, however, chuckled at his own joke in enjoyment.

Mister Bustine's eyes examined the man with the funny accent and glowing bald head. After a lengthy stare of silence, he dismissed him. He shifted his attention as Mister Weaver and others giggled, returning his own look and stare back toward Mister Towerly.

The white oval table they sat around matched the soft whiteness of the circular room. The walls themselves were baron like a desirable mistress, left pure white themselves as they emanated a self contained light which pulsated softly almost as if they were alive, no different from the small council of men. Even still, the wall was seemingly set to the dimmest setting in the windowless boardroom to hide certain pieces of their expressions from one another. They were only to know surface information about one another. That was law.

Mister Weaver's cheeky comment received a smattering of laughter which bounced off of the walls of the corner-less room as a couple of the twelve men held their guts in the drab hilarity of the moment. Mister Bustine did not laugh. He didn't even smile.

"Okay, seriously gentlemen let us please rein it in now," stated Mister Beverley, who sat beside Mister Weaver. Beverly, the skinny man of nearly seventy years of age, tempered the build up of his own chuckling like a giddy school girl, "Before we get too far off topic, my friends, I think it's time we began to discuss the actual agenda to counteract another one of Mister Towerly's wacky escapades." His baritone voice reverberated within the room as he tried to bring a level of seriousness back to the inhabitants. His beard was long and blond. In the middle of his face was a crooked nose that hooked like a fishing lure.

Bustine did not smile still. Per usual, he was not able to muster up even a fake chuckle at their bizarre breed of humor. The cacophony of deplorable inside jokes were merely an example of the age gap between he and the other members in the room. No matter how cringe worthy it all was, he needed to be there. He reached a point in life where not everyone was allowed to reach. On occasion he would take the bait to try to understand them, but with consistency the junior member only watched on as everyone else around him enjoyed themselves. His time to chime in being when pertinent matters were beginning to be discussed. No matter his age, those present would not dare to deny that he earned his spot at the white table — this was certain. He was elite.

"Finally! The smartest thing to have ever left the simple comfort of Beverly's dried lips," spoke Mister Sandson. His tone and delivery was buttery smooth, however, his personality was the opposite. He was a shark — a rough business operator that Bustine couldn't trust at all. He couldn't trust any of them honestly. Nor could he call them anything close to friends. "We do now have proper business to attend to." Aside from his voice, his ponytail was the only thing that was agreeable on him. He was the most skinny and slimy breed of individual, with protruding cheek bones housed within a slender face devoid of both color and much meat. He was virtually a ghost, vampiric and ghoulish in many ways that had to be felt and not explained: just staring into his pitch black eyes indiscriminately stole something precious from the viewer.

"But outside of humor, how shall we ever proceed?" Mister Sadler chimed in, his words soft spoken. "I usually assume jokes are the first on the agenda?" His comments were as dry as Mister Beverly's lips, words that could not be placed in either a bin of seriousness or comedy. The quaint, polite Sadler always spoke in a near whisper that was enough to wholly shift the gears of the room in its totality every time. Humor died almost instantly whenever he fixed his lips to utter a single word.

With Sadler's potential jest, like a starter pistol at the beginning of a race, the time had finally come to embark upon serious matters. Mister Weaver, Mister Towerly, and Mister Beverly swiveled their chairs and pivoted their attention towards the senior most member: Mister Dominic; who cleared his throat almost on cue to gain their wandering attention.

The sound of his throat's clearings were amplified by the chrome oxygen mask that covered the bottom half of his shriveled face. Like magnificent clockwork, as the group entered into their usual tailspin of sidetracked conversations, he sat there with critical, sunken-in eyes — bloodshot by a life of perpetual agony.

Mister Bustine could only assume it was pain that he constantly felt. Though pain was evident on the surface of his being; a metaphysical shroud covered him, never exhibiting what he truly felt or thought in his moments of silence. Mister Dominic's energy was always blank like the expression he wore on his half covered face — not quite as easy to read as everybody else's. The rest of the men were idiots in comparison, while Mister Dominic, without uttering a word gave off the air of a man who was always calculating, judging. This aura was both off-putting and intriguing, even to the small group whose very purpose of existence was to calculate and know. Mister Dominic felt partially inhuman.

Closest to the ancient Mister Dominic in both proximity and age were Mister Santos, Mister Lein, Mister Sabine, Mister Dixon and Mister Steyauns — all relics of an old age and founding members of the distinct council. Mister Dominic forever sat completely silent until it was time to speak and when he did, they listened. If the elders were not talking aloud with the rest of the group in humorous quips, they were whispering secrets to one another.

Mister Dominic sat at the table, stern eyes darting around the room; hearing all conversation that unfurled before him. It was as if he was among his eleven dysfunctional children. Mister Dominic in particular was incredibly aged, looking almost like a still husk that from across the table Mister Bustine could not tell if he was still alive, save for those ice-blue, judgmental eyes. It was even questionable if there was still blood pumping through his veins beneath that pale, snow white flesh as his breathing apparatuses beeped and hummed, the only noticeable symbol of life coming from Mister Dominic.

"Are we done, gentlemen? We all know where we must begin," posed the ever-collected Mister Dominic. His words rolled slowly out from a raspy voice from masked lips, creeping into the now attentive ears of all present like a cautious thief in the night.

Sitting quietly, they stared around the room.

The men exchanged awkward glances from beady eyes in wait for the floor of conversation to be taken in the next near dreadful direction. Amidst the soundlessness, Mister Steyauns cleared his dry throat as he prepared to speak his piece. His call for attention was registered by all. Those beady eyes full of misguided thought looked toward his direction. He froze, stammering, missing his chance to lead:

"Well, then," interrupted an impatient Mister Dixon with clasped hands resting before him on the table, "what about former Senator Kirk Chambers?" Dixon's eyes made eager rounds seeking approval, trading eye contact like the most expensive currency. Even he was astonished at the now speechless bunch in the room upon his suggestion.

Mister Steyauns shot Mister Dixon a look of sharp blades as the pudgy mister interrupted his desired moment to lead the pack of minds for the day. Mister Steyauns knew deep down that this was a calculated effort by Dixon to undercut him. Such a maneuver was integral to who Mister Dixon was as a person; this was in the fat bastard's game plan during every meeting throughout the years. A schoolyard crush? In Mister Steyauns' own mind, Mister Dixon almost certainly feared his superior intelligence, vying for a chance to look good in front of Mister Dominic. The slender, rigid, and elderly Mister Steyauns knew better than to bring light to the assumed one-sided rivalry between the two; the group had no time for it all. Besides, he knew the truth.

"He's an alcoholic and a drug addict," scoffed the simpleminded Mister Lein, who was altogether uninterested in a majority of the topics they gathered to discuss. It was a mystery as to why he continued to show up to the meetings in the first place. To be a contrarian? Mister Lein never had anything insightful to add. He was just dismissive of all ideas and the following discourses. He was the type of person whose disagreement stemmed from his own intellectual inferiority. That dismissal in particular might have been the most reasonable of Mister Lein's highlight-reel of dismissals, though.

"Well, does a better suggestion happen to tickle around the inside of your own brain, Lein?" Mister Sandson asked with a curiously raised brow, always ready to tear into Mister Lein's personality.

Lein in response smiled a devilishly patchy smile of yellow teeth, stained by a life of abuse and neglect. His incomplete smile was accompanied by a dismissive shoulder shrug which slightly perturbed Mister Sandson.

Mister Bustine believed Mister Lein's reaction to be genuine in the moment. Mister Lein's passivity was well documented by everyone present. There should have been no surprise following his answer.

"I believe Senator Chambers is an understandable choice for us to consider," added the always agreeable Mister Santos. Mister Bustine's eyes shot quickly from Mister Lein to him. Mister Santos never stated his own opinion, he just waited patiently to attach his two-cents to a thought formulated by another in the group.

"Yet, he is completely unstable. My imagination, nor my time at the casinos, could have prepared me for a gamble like the one you gentleman are suggesting we make," interjected the young Mister Bustine, who had been patiently waiting his chance to speak; biding his precious time in a forced state of silent examination.

Mister Bustine's words drew a pause out from the room like a syringe does blood from a vein. The remark was just the right level of critical to check the temperature of the room to which only another rose to the occasion of discourse:

"Are you blinded by your youth? His instability is what makes him the most perfect candidate for us to use, Mister Bustine," the decrepit Mister Dominic answered, whose slow speaking seemed to have sped up a bit from before just for the oncoming debate. Bustine did not want to argue. The beeping from the breathing apparatus beside Mister Dominic continued its melodic pace as his long inhales between each word continued to persist.

"With all do respect, I must be blind as well, Mister Dominic," replied Mister Towerly in Mister Bustine's stead. "Is there a better choice perhaps? What about former Senator Kim Daiser? She has accomplished many great things for her own Province in the past, stood up against the Supreme Chancellor and has no known vices. We can rely on her."

"Then you are indeed just as blind as the young Bustine over there. Without any known vices, what could we possibly exploit?" Mister Dominic rebutted through his chrome oxygen mask. "With Chambers we will find ownership. With Miss Daiser, or any other candidate devoid of an obvious vice who considers the advancement of their career tantamount, he or she would seek a partnership. A candidate we lost control of is how we got into this predicament. We must be felt. Not ignored like we have been."

Mister Steyauns raised himself from the slouched and laid back position he assumed in his eggshell like seat. He finally saw his chance to speak:

"There is already passive political discord amongst the people on Earth. We can't aim to unify them all through such a man as Kirk. They will undoubtedly reject him," he looked at Mister Dominic's oxygen mask, inside of which he saw his reflection within as he positioned his mouth shrouded in a long black beard to speak again.

Mister Dominic answered by placing his hand in the air. It quickly cut through the speaker's attempt at elaborating, the elder being more mobile than imagined. His skinny arm was held there to signal the opposing mister to halt his impassioned protest. Directly following the gesture of his hand, Dominic himself didn't utter a word. For a moment, only his respirator answered Steyauns, until he himself decided to cease the melodrama:

"We should not focus on the man they might not accept. We can control what they would accept. All that is meant to be will be. Knowledge of this fact is the knowledge of utmost supremacy. For we will intimately construct the person they have been waiting for. To this end, we already think far enough ahead. As you all know, the planet began this shift of disharmony long before yesterday. As a result of that fact, it'll take longer than tomorrow to accomplish the goal. Our objective is simple: we build Senator Chambers in our image and for our use. We have the time and the resources to do just that. Jean Claude is scared of war with Alton IV, but that does not mean he won't sacrifice his people to war regardless."

It took close to a millennia for those words to leave the covered mouth of Mister Dominic. A younger man would have spoken them with passion, a rallying cry to inspire the troops, but the elder statesmen said it in a tone as the dry as Alton IV's soil. Respirator and tone aside, they heard the frail man — loud and clear through his mask. Loud and clear over the machinations that kept him in the world.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Sois Sage by Rais Tuluka. Copyright © 2018 Rais Tuluka. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Publication date: 2018
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1546201394
• ISBN 13: 9781546201397
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 704