Havenworld

Bard Constantine Havenworld

Other Books in the Havenworld Universe

The Troubleshooter: Four Shots

The Troubleshooter: New Haven Blues

The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame

Silent Empire

After the Cataclysm nearly wiped out humanity, the remnants of mankind survived in Havens: city-sized constructs built to reboot society and usher in a new age of mankind.

However, the new age was not the type the architects had envisioned. The same greed and lust for power that existed before the Cataclysm resurfaced and the Havens quickly became quagmires of political and economic conflict, threatening to destroy the future envisioned by their founders.

This is a world where an indecisive young man can witness the end of all things. Where a boy's impending death can lead to a new life. Where a girl's escape from captivity still may not free her. Where the naivety of youth can be manipulated for evil deeds. Where taking on that last job might be the worst mistake a desperate hacker ever makes.

Welcome

☣

To Havenworld

Author Foreword

Havenworld has been in development for quite a while now. When I wrote the first Troubleshooter novel, I was aware of the larger world outside of New Haven, as the novels progressed I knew I wanted to explore that world further. And so here we are, after two full-length Troubleshooter novels and a collection of short tales, and the inclusion of the Silent Empire novella. Are you ready for Havenworld? Because I certainly am.

This volume is comprised of five short stories that each take a segment of time and place to expand on the dystopian world of Havens and the surrounding territories. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to enjoy each story and then vote afterward on which one you'd like to see as a full-length novel. Simply click the link at the end of the book. The story with the most votes will be the first novel published in the Phase Two set.

Wait, so what's in Phase One, you ask? Four entirely different novels, all set in the same world. First is Vigil, a vigilante superhero story. Then Nimrod Squad, which follows the hijinks of a crew of dysfunctional bounty hunters. Following that will be Syn City, the story of a con man forced to adopt the identity of the most brilliant man alive. And closing Phase One out is The Desolate Man, a dystopian spin on the western genre.

All these exciting novels will further explore Havenworld and its residents. I hope you'll be along for the ride. The great thing about it is that although the stories are part of a connected universe, you won't have to follow them in any particular order or read all of them to understand them individually. But the more you read, the more you'll get to see the larger picture, not to mention all the Easter Eggs. So please enjoy this introductory set of stories. As always, I love hearing back from my readers. Feel free to drop a note anytime, and don't forget to leave a review if you get a chance.

All the best,

— BC

The Last Sydney Carton

1

Autumn was the perfect season for a Cataclysm. The atmospheric changes had already turned color of the leaves into a blackish purple, disintegrating as they fell for the last time. The edges glimmered like dying embers and by the time they hit the ground they'd crumble into ash. It was the most beautiful and depressing thing you could ever see.

In a way, I was glad the world was ending. At least I'd be put out of my misery. I mean, I'd pretty much blown every opportunity to do something worthwhile. Not really for lack of trying, but it was like things just never seemed to work out. It was a lack of focus, I gotta admit. I thought about a poster my English teacher had on the wall of her class: If you aim at nothing, you'll hit it every time.

Pretty much says it all.

Before you go and think I'm on some sappy emo trip, let me dial things back a bit. If you go back a couple of years, I was pretty much sitting on top of the world. The Imperial War was ending, and I was in my junior year of high school. Seventeen years old and had just gotten the hang of the whole image thing. In high school, that's the only thing that counts. Way more important than academics. I mean, who was really concentrating on making Honor Roll when the Imperial War was tearing up the world? Nobody, that's who.

Of course, I didn't really care much about the Imperial War. That was something for my parents to wring their hands about. It's strange how you get used to things. I was raised in an age where bizarre things happened every day. The sky was a purple canvas of life-sucking energy most of my life, and then came the Imperial War. So what? I was trying to get through high school, man. That was enough stress for me to take on.

But the important thing about that year was it was when I'd meet the girl that would change my life. Her name was Victoria Winters. I met her at a house party. My friends always threw parties at their houses, especially during the summer. It was a great chance to dance, have fun, and meet new people. People threw a lot of parties during the Imperial War. When the immediate future was almost-certain world destruction, people needed to take a load off.

Everyone was optimistic because Commander Wolfe and his team were on the verge of ending the Imperial War. Why wouldn't he? The man was a living legend. If he said he was going to do it, then it was going to happen. Things were finally going to get back to normal.

At parties, you could either be on the dance floor or be wallpaper. By wallpaper, I mean the cowards standing against the wall like they were too cool to dance. In reality, they were just too scared. So they leaned back, pointing and talking behind their hands, sniggering at everyone who had a life. That's what losers do — spend all their time worrying about what next man was doing, not realizing the next man could care less about their little punk asses. That's where they coined the term 'haters' from.

I was no hater, so I was dancing. That's pretty much all I do at parties. I don't do choreographed steps, though. I can't stand that crap — everyone doing the same stupid dance. What's the fun of doing the same thing everyone else is? Anyone can learn a few dumb steps. I liked to dance my way and didn't care who stared.

So I was at the party, just getting down. You should have seen me in my economically acceptable outfit of khakis and patterned button-down shirt. When a slow jam started, I cooled off and looked for potential dance partners. Like I said, by that time I was pretty confident and didn't care at all about asking a complete stranger to dance. In fact, I looked forward to it. I learned that you never entertain the thought that she might say no. You'll never work up your nerve if you do.

I spotted Vicky on the edge of the floor with a couple of friends. She was casually dressed — jeans and a sleeveless blouse. She was tall for a girl, almost my height. Dark hair, pretty eyes, and was very light-skinned. Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those black guys who only like light-skinned girls. It was just the way things worked out. The song had just started, and I walked over to where she sat with her friends. I ignored them, focusing directly on Vicky.

"Wanna dance?"

She gave me one of those shy smiles and said yes. Man, I love those girls who give you that shy smile. Sometimes I wonder if they practice that in the mirror. You know, getting that smile down just right. Probably not. But a shy smile will beat a goofy giggle any day. You can get a goofy giggle out of any girl, but when you get that shy smile — man, there's nothing like it.

We danced the old-fashioned way: one hand on her waist, the other cupping her hand. Just like an old couple. It was a chaperoned party, and that's how it was. A lot of parents were around, and you can bet they didn't care for all that dry-grinding and ass grabbing.