The Zendo Agreement

Two bounty hunters, rivals, betrayers, lovers. They chase the same thing, the tiny disc that carries within it the means to end the war and save Earth from annihilation and enslavement. This is

The Zendo Agreement

The small office was dark, smelled like an animal cage needed cleaning. Oldman sat in his large EV-chair, his considerable bulk blotting-out the large oval window in front of him, as he watched the fiery debris from the latest mesosphere battle streak by the platform. The chunks of debris cut through what was left of Earth’s atmosphere, and flamed out into the oblivion below. Umber clouds obscured most of the Earth’s surface, but visible areas glowed orange and brown from raging fires.

Declan Hunter stood in the doorway behind Oldman and cleared his throat. The air inside was barely breathable, the oxygen being set too low, making the staleness tangible. The android guard turned toward Hunter, its eyes lit-up red, while yellow beams of beta particles ran his outline searching for weapons. Hunter flashed a contemptuous, toothy smile and nodded, as if the contraption cared about such pleasantries.

Oldman pointed toward the window. “There goes what was left of Stellar Nine Space Station. The Chinese are cooked, too.”

“Stellar Nine. Shame. I saw her launched. She was a beauty.”

“Well, not anymore, eh? Earth is done, now. Platforms like this one is all that’s left for us…survivors.”

“There’s always Alpha Centauri. But you hate worm holes.”

Oldman turned in his electric chair. “Too unpredictable. I don’t want to end up on a farm in Musca.”

“I’d pay to see that. You riding a six legged trogg.”

“We’re through here. The Velations are too powerful, their technology too great. They’ve won the battle already.” Oldman sneered. “The 21 day war, they’ll call it.”

He scanned Hunter with his hand held auto fan-laser.

Hunter sighed, exasperated.  “Seen enough, yet?”

“I have to be careful. That obliterator on your belt best be powered off.”

He looked down at the hunk of metal strapped to his hip. It was on standby, which looked the same as off, but it was charged and ready to fire.

“Of course it’s cold, Oldman. You think I don’t know the drill?”

Oldman rubbed his chin, nodded. “Good. What have you got for me?”

Hunter held out his hand, revealing a tiny heart shaped silver locket and chain. He let it dangle for a few seconds, then took a few slow steps forward and placed it on the desk.

Oldman, the Junker, hummed, took out his magnifier and gave it a scan. “Hah. Silver. Small. This is all you have after two weeks of spending my money, using my best EV Gig?”

“This and the pile of battle space junk on the dock. Ten tons of valuable metal.”

Oldman pointed at a metal laser as it scanned the cargo. “Yes, more or less six tons, I see.”

Hunter bit his lip, was about to let Oldman have it.

Oldman smiled. “The scale on board hasn’t been calibrated in months.”

“Then why’d you give me that piece of junk?”

“It’s the best I’ve got, Hunter. Don’t hurt my feelings. Seven and a half.”

“Ship’s computer said ten.”

“Let’s make it eight.”

“Fine. But I use the ship this weekend for a run to Hallum.”

“Hallum for the weekend. My, I must be paying you too much.”

“It’s personal.”

Oldman poked at the locket with the metal finger extension he used as a pointer. “Anything inside? It scans hollow.”

“Nothing.”

“When you found it, I mean. Perhaps there was something…huh?”

“Empty.”

“Arrrg. Worth maybe a few ounces of oatmeal.”

He tossed it over his shoulder onto a pile of junked electronics.

“Why are you wasting my time? I should have sent android seekers for all the good you’ve done me.”

The android laughed, its yellow eyes flashing in rhythm to the metallic sounding guffaws.  

Hunter gritted his teeth, tightened his grip on the obliterator, but held his place. “Okay, so she got away. I searched her cell thoroughly. Besides, you said anything she had. I can’t be held accountable for taste.”

Oldman leaned toward Hunter, his face an intense grimace. “She had what I was looking for ten hours ago, you pirate.” He turned to his android. “Search him.”

“It already did that.”

The android lit Hunter again.

“Besides, if I had anything to hide you think I’d bring it in here?” Hunter turned to the android. “You better have that setting on low or I’ll melt your joints.”

The beam shut down. The android turned to Oldman. A squelching voice emanated from the android. “He’s c,clean, bloss.”

“Nice voice-box there, Sluggo. You do poetry readings?”

“Now manually search him.”

The android stepped closer to Hunter, a low grrrr emanating from its voice box.

“Woof woof, Sluggo,” Hunter said, smirking. “Get your kicks.”

The android’s slick Teflon fingers were clumsy and scratched as they fumbled around Hunter’s fire-retardant flight suit. It made him smile, knowing this goofy android couldn’t detect a rocket in his pocket, let alone an ancient microchip stuffed into his collar.

Sluggo squared up and took a few steps back. “No-ting t-to reput, B-Boss.”

Hunter smirked. “I know a guy can fix that voice module”

Oldman waved his arm dismissively. “It’s a stock program. Old. Listen, I want you to go back out into the thick of things. Another bounty hunter may have gotten to her first. I have word that Shar Barrow may be on this one. You remember her, don’t you, Hunter? Tall brunette, dark eyes, quick…draw.”

How could he forget? He involuntarily touched the scar on his cheek from a scathing laser blast. A small reminder of their last encounter. Shar was tough, quick and smart. And beautiful. A dangerous combination.

Hunter couldn’t bring himself to say anything, so he just grunted. This pleased Oldman, and a half-smile spread his rubbery lips.

“Find Shar Barrow, you’ll find the girl. I think she’s got what we’re looking for. It could mean everything.”

Hunter turned to go. “Shar. Right.”

“And Declan…” Hunter stopped and turned to Oldman, creeped out that he had used his first name. He wasn’t on a first name basis with anybody. “…if I find you’ve been cheating me, hiding something…information, the girl, perhaps…” Oldman glared at him menacingly, then with a half-smile, nodded his dismissal.  

“Me cheat a master criminal like you? Come on….I’m an open book.” The door opened and Hunter said, under his breath, “You cheap cheat. I have better things to do than sell to you.”

PART 2

Shar the bounty hunter

The ship was cramped and stale from the sacks of bounty that filled every hold and seat. What Oldman didn’t get, Shar hauled to another Junker. One that paid more for certain items, like blown electronics and insulation. Shar buckled herself into the pilot’s chair, flipped the auto-mode switch and sat back for the long ride. The destination was a planet in the Gallo quadrant. A dry pale world with underground cities and deep caverns carved out of desert rock. An ancient place of strange rituals and customs she’d rather not think about, much less partake in, such as spitting in your hand and wiping it on your own face, things like that. Slavery there was illegal, but still acceptable, if done on the sly. She couldn’t pronounce the actual name of the planet. It started with a Z sound and ended with a few clucking noises. Desert squawk. A language only the Hulli people could speak. All the runner just called it the Hulli planet.

Shar was starving. It had been hours since her last meal, a small cut of a plant called hebo, a green succulent that held every mineral and most vitamins a human needs. Although mostly carbs, it also had a few grams of protein. You could live on it for weeks. She reached for a stash from the sack on the co-pilot’s chair, and rummaged around for a chunk of the meaty plant. The sting was quick, sharp and hit with a wallop. She pulled her hand away and immediately spotted the barb. It was deep. In the meaty flesh of her right palm. A calling card from the stinging fistuka. A nasty insect that scavenged hebo. It embedded one of three barbs from its large tail. Luckily it was the middle barb. She heard the smallest one could kill you in minutes. They were known to hide under the husk of the hebo plant, but they’d always leave a tell-tall hole. Angry at herself for not checking the husks thoroughly enough, she closed the bag and threw in onto the floor.

She held her hand up to inspect the wound. A bright red ring encircled the barb sticking out of her fleshy part of her thumb. Pulling it out would release more toxins and could mean quick death. Her body was reacting rapidly to the poison. Her face felt flushed and she was a little dizzy. They say some of the tribal people on the unpronounceable planet are immune. But the swelling had already started, and she’d be delirious before reaching her destination. She needed to wrap it in ice and head to the nearest outpost. At least a five hour delay. Shar wrapped a cold pack around her aching hand and punched in the coordinates to the nearest outpost. It’d be less than an hour before reaching refueling station Seventeen-Twenty. They’d have emergency medicine there. She hoped.

Something on her right thigh moved. She flinched and flicked it off with the back of her ailing hand. It was a fituka all right. A big one. Black, with red rings on its abdomen, large claws and two more stingers on its ass end. She didn’t want to kill it, just in case they needed it for further examination or to divine some serum from its rancid bowels. She searched the cabin and spotted a large hat she’d worn on a visit to the desert. It was floppy and heavy. A loud hiss rang out as she gently placed it over the gnarly insect.

She sat back in the pilot’s seat and began to doze. Faceless people talked to her, blurry places ran before her, like cites on a river flowing by in her a half-dream. A blaring alarm startled her awake. The proximity alert. It took a few seconds for Shar to realize there was a marauder on her port side, and closing fast.

“Suzie, shields at max,” she said, groggily.

The ship’s AI voice rang out. “Shields at maximum.”

“Quadruple flux…evasion pattern.”

“Q.F.E.P. in effect.”

Her head pounded. Fatigue sapped her strength. Her hand was swollen to almost twice its normal size. A dark ring was forming around the wound. She had no tie to suffer. She stared at the visual heads-up display. Black space lay ahead, distant stars barley readable in the flux of hyper-speed. She fumbled for the controls, trying to get a visual on the intruder.

“Suzie, who’s out there?” Her voice was low and hoarse. “Get a fix on their hull.”

The display illuminated an oval object with three small fins on the either side, like and old fashioned jet. It glowed orange as it ripped through space. It was gaining fast.

“Hull is comprised of titanium alloy, composite V plastic and Gallium minerals.”

“Gallium, huh? Those damn pirate trog herders.”

After spending six months on Gallium, serving mining interests, chasing down company loan jumpers, she’d had enough of their ruthless ways. Unlike the unpronounceable planet that started with Z, Gallium was completely uncivilized and chaotic. Bands of pirates roamed the sky above the planet, waiting to cash in on anything that moved near their space. They were either professional miners or pirates, mostly. The poor mine workers lived in shabby huts along the base of the rugged mountains, and subsisted on company store wages. All things led back to the mine owners. They owned the planet. Sure they had a system of government, but that had devolved into a bribe-taking theocracy, based on the worship of minerals and wealth. The powerful gave nothing to the people. And the people did nothing to stop them. The rich held the poor workers by the throat and never let go. She’d been naïve when taking the job there, not realizing how bad things actually were. But it only took Shar a week to figure it all out and the whole remainder of her six month contract as a bounty hunter to get the hell out. She chased down criminals, not runaway mine workers. But it made her tougher, more wary, and a better fighter.

She was wanted by the authorities on Gallium for what they called, “Abomination,” a term Galliumites used for those who criticized their ways, or the elite, and for absconding with one of their semi-slaves. She was a dark haired beauty named, Kelsiana. A house worker for a rich slob by the name of Gran, a wealthy mine owner from the southern district mines. Brought to the house at only seven years old, Kelsiana was sold by her parents and had known nothing but servitude, until Shar taught her of other worlds, and opened her eyes to new possibilities on other planets where she might be given a fair shake. Maybe even take advantage of her natural intelligence and beauty.

So, now a scout ship from Gallium was on her tail.

The heads up display flashed red. 

“Warning, proximity alert.”

The microfilm in Shar’s collar weighed heavy now. If found by a Gallium pirate, she’d be killed and they’d sell it to the highest bidder. No doubt, they’d get rich in the process. The film holds a secret only a few people knew. A secret that could alter the course of the Velation war, and change worlds. Not many possessed the knowledge to read the ancient script in which it was written, but those who did have the ancient knowledge also had a means to obtain world peace.

The AI voice rang out. “Warning, docking of unauthorized vehicle in process.”

A loud bang, and the ship momentarily ticked off course before righting itself again. Shar, woozy from the poison circulating in her veins, pointed her disrupter at the cockpit hatch. The gun was heavy and it kept drooping before she righted it again, aiming at the door. Her arm ached. Her face was covered with sweat. She had a weakness deep within her core and shook her head to remain alert. Another loud bang.

She could barely speak, but whispered to the control panel. “Keep the emergency docking hatch sealed.”

“Hull temperature is rising. 2600 degrees Fahrenheit. 2650 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Shar breathed heavy. “They’re using torches. Expel Co2 reserves…out the port side vent.”

A loud whooshing lasted less than a minute.

“Co2 reserved spent. Hull temperature is 2500 degrees.”

“Shake off that ship. Corkscrew maneuver. Now.”

The ship turned and bucked, and twisted. Shar’s head flopped like a rag doll. Her stomach tightened and she almost spewed her breakfast.  

“Hull temperature 2650 degrees.”

Shar’s vision was growing dark. She laid her head back on the pilot’s chair and took a deep breath. She held the blaster loosely in her hand, resting it on the center console, still pointed toward the hatch, waiting for it to open.

“How many…?” Shar started to say, but couldn’t find the breath to finish.

“How many?” Repeated the AI.

“Pirates out there?”


“There is one life form at the hatch entrance. The superheated elements have expanded enough to weaken the security bolts. Breach is imminent.”

Darkness came upon her. Silence. Weightlessness. Her body floated to the top of the navigation console and drifted through the walls of the ship. She spread her arms, like a condor soaring high above the golden canyon lit in morning sun, then twisting sideways, descending into the blue shadows of the valley. The pristine river that formed the gorge sparkled in the sunlight. Glittering waters ran by warm rocks that lined the spot, into an eddy that leisurely spun the leaves that had fallen there. She landed on a golden, heart-shaped leaf. She was that small, the size of the ring on her middle finger. And she rode the leaf, its veins pulsing slowly in steady heartbeats, yellowing from autumn cool, twisting in the current, meandering down into the faster waters into the narrows, white with churning, foaming energy. Up ahead, beyond the rocks was her house, in the shadow of the tall pines, its roughhewn wooden walls snapping awake in the early sun, collecting pine needles on its roof, the dew lifting in silent transmutation. Peace had come at last.

The hatch door opened with a metallic bang, pulling her back from the peace and of the warmth and into the hard pilot’s chair. She opened her eyes. A menacing shadow hung above her. She instinctively reached for her blaster, but a hand stopped her. The weapon fired aimlessly in the cabin. Sparks flew. Heat lit the space around her. Bolts of energy ricocheted around, pinging and gouging her ship. Then a hand grabbed her arm. She kicked and bit, sure she was a mighty force, but the call of the river was strong. She was pulled back onto the yellow leaf, slowly twisting into the spot where she could see smoke rising from the morning fire above her chimney, and she let go.

To Be Continued…

FIVE STARS!

A review from the Online Book club:

https://www.amazon.com/Saving-Mozart-Time-Travel-Adventure-ebook/dp/B0DZTYX6WV?ref_=ast_author_mpb

Time travel, masterful music, and intriguing interactions comprise the novel Saving Mozart: A Time Travel Adventure by Charles R. Hinckley. As someone who loves stories revolving around going back in time, this novel captured my attention in the first chapter, not only with the time-traveling element but also with the themes of music and meeting one’s life hero. These aspects created a unique plot and made it enjoyable to follow along.

Here’s a little about me and why I enjoyed this book so much: I have played the piano for years, though probably not as well as the main character, Calvin Hobbs. I understood the terminology that Calvin used when mentioning piano sheet music and reading scores of Mozart’s compositions. Another aspect that I appreciated about this book was that time travel became possible. Cal’s childhood sweetheart, Emily, explains, “Time is happening all at once. Everything in the past, everything in the future, is all happening at the same time. Like an explosion. Some call it the Block Theory, which postulates that there must be a simultaneous past and present, like it’s in a block.”

Saving Mozart: A Time Travel Adventure introduces many scientific and thought-provoking aspects that have further captivated my interest. The Grandfather Effect is mentioned alongside how impactful some events and people are to the course of existence, while others barely cause ripples. This novel focuses on the consequences that occur when we tamper with the status quo, regardless of if we believe we are doing it for the benefit of others, in this case, saving Mozart before his appointed passing. Having read other books about multiverses and worldlines, I found this plot was easier to follow than most. Sure, there were some moments when I had to slow down to understand the scientific concepts I was reading, but for the most part, the words, phrasing, and context were not beyond my intellectual level, which made the reading more enjoyable overall.

There was nothing I truly disliked about this book. Charles R. Hinckley, author of the novel, ensured that there were minimal errors, as I hardly found many. I would recommend this book to anyone, as it was not written with one specific group or genre in mind. Possible sexual scenes were kept appropriate, and only a few curse words were mentioned throughout the entire novel. Overall, I believe this book deserves a perfect rating of 5 out of 5 stars.

The Lucid Spider

The third installment of the thriller Psychic Detective Series, The Lucid Spider is in production and should be on sale in November!

It lurks deep inside your brain…

“I fought it the best I could; the notion of a spider eating my brain, grappled it into submission, and maybe I even killed it. But the thought of it, the overpowering sense that something is not right in my head, is part of my existence now. Even when I’m feeling good, and things are a laugh, part of me waits for it to come out of its proverbial hole and do its worst. This psychological weapon, the Lucid Spider, as he called it, was invented by Porter Grossman, a crazed scientist who has used it to kill half a dozen people and enslave many more. The spider infests the dark spot in your subconscious that is willing to hate, go mad and even kill for some relief. All are susceptible to the Lucid Spider. Even though it’s a psychological weapon, it’s as real and deadly as a bullet or knife. ..”

Island Girl On Audible!

John Tanner does a great job narrating this mystery novel.

A grieving writer’s refuge is shattered by a mysterious woman luring him into a deadly game of secrets.

After a devastating plane crash claims the lives of his wife and daughter, a tormented writer seeks solace on an isolated island, grappling with the specters of loss and the struggle to remain sober. His hermit-like existence is upended when a mysterious young woman appears, her past wiped clean by amnesia. She is an enigma, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, and in her presence, his sorrow briefly subsides.

But tranquility is fleeting. Soon, two men arrive on shore, laying claim to the mysterious stranger. She leaves with them only to return. And this time when the men come back, the writer’s blissful solitude unravels in a web of betrayal and murder.

“A haunting and well-crafted mystery.” – Amazon Reader

“The imagery was vivid, and the nuances were hypnotic.” – Early Reader

Other books available on Amazon by Charles R Hinckley, The Psychic Detective series- Dream State, and Dreaming Wide Awake. The sci-fi thriller, Infinity 7.

The Old Shack

I was running through the woods, chasing a squirrel. I was fascinated with all creatures back then. A kid. The world was new and everything was fresh. I had the hunting instinct of a hound and a desire to chase, search, find. But once found, I didn’t know what to do with my quarry.

The gray squirrel frantically ran through the tree tops. I ran behind, threw rocks. It lead me to an opening in the thickest part of the woods. The sun dappled the clearing. It was a bright, clear day, and it was startling to suddenly be out of shade. I was hot and was growing tired of the chase. In front of me stood a lopsided old shack. I was immediately intrigued. It barely stood, in a small clearing, uneven and faded as a gray day in December. The partially open door, shed chips of faded white paint. Choking brush wrapped around one side of the building and seemed to be squeezing what little life was left out of the wood.

I stood at the door and peered into the black interior. It was small, about twelve by ten feet. The dank smell of rotting wood, thick and moist. It was an unsettling odor that seemed more like a filthy whisper than a smell. Fresh dirt and decaying leaves. The ancient door scraped the slab as I pried it open. I took a step inside. A chill ran through me. Still, dank, cold. A window in the back let in a bit of sun. Gaps in the roughhewn floorboards widened in spots of light. Vines threaded through the floor, but were dead or dying in the perpetual rankness. A strange chandelier hung down, too low to be of any use. Dirty glass, covered in black mildew and green film. I took another step inside. A damp chill swept over me like a thin blanket. In the far left corner was a small cot. A pillow lay atop the mattress, uncovered and molding. Cigarette butts littered the floor. Below the window was a small brass container. I was intrigued, thinking perhaps some lost treasure lay inside. But as I approached I heard it ring out. Just a small ping, as if something dropped into it. I turned sharply, looking for the safety of the open door. There came a knock on the roof. I looked up and saw a black smoky haze hovering on the ceiling. A low whisper spoke, “Get out.” The voice chilled my spine. I bolted forward, toward the light of the door. I must have been running full force when I hit something hard and fell back. I remember feeling like the floor cradled me, my whole body, like I’d fallen into a rut. A perfect outline of my body. In my mind, I saw a field of black dots, like on a black and white TV screen. People were running. They were far away and small, like a mass of moving shadow, but they were all running in the same direction. A face came close to me. I could see she was a nice old lady. But her mouth opened and she yelled close to my face, “What?” The word was yelled, long, slow, filled with hate, torment, self-pity and regret. Her breath was freezing cold, and had the smell of dead leaves and rotten flesh. The venom in her voice startled me awake. I felt all of these things at once. They clawed into me. I ran like hell. I was myopic and could only see what was directly in front of me. I kept running. Above, in the trees, I heard a squirrel, jumping from tree to tree, as if chasing me, menacing me, wanting me to make me pay for my past transgressions. My stomach churned. My heart exploded in my chest.

I came to the small field adjacent to my back yard, and I stopped. I bent over, my hands on my knees and heaved. My head ached with pounding force. My eyes hurt. My vision slowly started coming back to full color.

My house stood on a small incline against the shadows of the setting sun. A dark outline against orange light. The two story house suddenly seemed foreboding. I shook off the feeling when I saw a light from the kitchen, and my mother’s shape in the window. Thoughts of supper, a warm shower and bed warmed me. But I couldn’t help feeling as if something had changed. There was a heaviness in my heart. A joylessness. Then a yearning to return to the shack came upon me. I saw it clear as day in my mind, the crooked slant of the shack against the night sky, the gray wood, the tree branches squeezing what little life remained there. I turned to the woods and saw a black mist, like a shadow slowly melting into the trees. A calling arose from there, like a cooing. Only more yearning than a coo, yearning like a child might for love. I ran to my house and slammed the door shut. Closing out that shack forever, and knowing I’d never go back. But I was mistaken. I went back every night in my dreams, the old lady’s voice hollow and rancid in my face. I never hunted another living thing after that.