The Hooman Probe

By C. C. Brower

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE HOOMAN PROBE

First edition. May 4, 2018.

Copyright © 2018 C. C. Brower.

ISBN: 978-1387791651

Written by C. C. Brower.

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I

THE WOLVES HAD SELECTED an old hooman foundation for the probe site.

It was circular, and legend had that the old building was mostly for storage and sheltering livestock. Hooman's called it a "barn". Those that hunted in and around it said it was a slave building, trapping the beings within. Supposedly, this was by mutual consent, as the beings who sheltered in that barn had few defences without hoomans around.

Those days were before the hoomans leaving in their sky-ships. Sentience wasn't widely available until after they were gone. After the plague took most of the remaining hoomans.

Today, that foundation would be for the ceremony. It would mark where the probe would take place, and where the sentient wolves and their cubs could watch in relative safety.

Or so they thought.

No hooman had survived the probe before. But this one was different. No hooman had been to the valley since the days of the hooman plague.

This was completely new.

And yet, more vital than ever. The ferals knew where the valley was. And the hooman settlements had been growing in size. Not just locally, but in every area where hoomans still survived. This news was brought by the migrating birds and insects.

Unless a way was found to communicate with hoomans and ferals, it would mean a new world war that would destroy both sides. A war that would never end until one or the other side was exterminated.

Tig-she led Soo-she up to the circle and then stopped. The wolf looked at her and sent her a faith-filled prayer for the best outcome.

Soo-she nodded in reply, then entered the circle.

A hawk flew in lazy circles overhead, riding the thermals. With a cry, she dove to earth. Soo-she ducked, but the wolves didn't flinch.

On landing with a graceful back-sweeping, the hawk alighted without a sound.

Eying the assembled wolves, the hawk bowed its head.

A shimmering covered that form, which showed a wolf when it cleared. Grey, almost white fur - it was Teacher.

Some cubs sent to each other about how it was quite an appearance, and found their mothers "tut-tutting" their lack of mental discipline. Soo-she also understood their thoughts and smiled, remembering the "seen and not heard" saying she had been told when she was young.

The grey wolf just smiled at Soo-she, sending "Welcome everyone. I'll skip some of the formal prayers and notices so we can get started. Our hunters are out protecting us and we need to help them. We need whatever data we can get as soon as we can. I do want to thank each of you for all you've done and all that will be asked of you. Your presence is noted and welcome, as well as our Chief, our elders, and our next generation."

Teacher nodded at the Chief and then proceeded to a spot opposite Soo-she in the center of the circular foundations.

"Soo-she are you ready to begin?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Then clear your mind and relax."

The Teacher sat on her haunches and bowed her own head. Soo-she bowed hers as well.

To Soo-she, it was as if the universe had dropped away. A brilliant white replaced everything except her and Teacher.

Then she remembered her life from the beginning. She hadn't remembered being born before, seeing the world through her own Mother's eyes and those of her Father, Aunts, Uncles, and other family. She now remembered that there was a dream-catcher placed above her cradle to help her sleep. That same amulet she carried with her in her pouch that was sitting in the Teacher's den.

Then she was learning to walk, to talk the hooman speech. And to rely on talking rather than sensing. Because those around her wouldn't sense. Only the other babies did this.

It was true, then, that all knowledge was available to the youngest - until they learned to speak.

A flood of images came, then: the floor plan of the moon-colony they were in. How the air and water were recirculated and purified. How the food was grown in containers under artificial light. How the elites lived in the original city-ship which then provided heat and protection for the dome of the moon-colony. The mining that had to occur to keep the fusion generator running, but also the other industries that ran in the colony near the fusion exhaust - refraction of metals and collection of slag that was further refined for building materials. How the rare earths were extracted and collected for fine electronic uses. The collection of waste that couldn't be economically recycled or re-purposed. How these were bundled up and launched on a trajectory back to Earth so that the atmosphere re-entry would turn them back to dust. How the theories that moon dust would cause more rain and help purify the polluted skies.

As Soo-she remembered her youth, all the ways of hoomans came out. The moon colony were the Slaggers, the lowest caste. Then came the organizers, the business people who provided jobs. Then the government workers and officials. At the top were the royal elite families, who inherited their positions from their elders.

Visions of fine dresses and suits, fashions that came and went. All shown on the TV screens the Slaggers were assembled to watch. Regular announcements were given with awards for high production numbers. Competitions were touted between the various colonies to see which ones could out-produce the others. Trophies were presented to head of business-houses, which would be put on display so the Slaggers could see them going down into and returning from the mines. The Founder's birthday was usually a big event, even though the original founders for each of the city-ships were long dead. In those cases, the shows were extravagant. Pictures of vast audiences and camera's representing each of the colonies were there to record it. Elites had the front row seats, with government behind them, and business owners and staff taking up the rear. Slaggers weren't present, as there wasn't enough room in any single presentation hall. (Or so they were told.) It was hard to tell what was virtual and what was real.

The Slaggers wore jumpsuits the entire time. That was their fashion. "Make do, do over, or do without" was their watchword. Jumpsuits were cleaned until they wore out. Then they'd be cut down to make children's jumpsuits. When those wore out, their buttons, patches, zippers, and velcro were all removed and the remainder would be used as padding, rags, or to stuff leaks. Nothing was thrown away, everything was re-used.

You'd see the fashions start with the elites, then move to the government bureaucrats who would wear them for awhile, then down to the business class, but never down to the Slaggers except as patches for their identification and to celebrate their production achievements.

Soo-she remembered playing with a collection of old patches her grandmother had saved. Their bright colors faded and glitter nearly worn off. Her mother and others kept taking them out of her mouth, thinking how she could poison herself if she swallowed any of that glitter.

At that, she paused in her thinking. The whiteness faded and the wolves and circle reappeared, then the rest of the valley with it's blue sky and rocky walls.

Many of the wolves had moved back from the foundation edge, and all but the bravest cubs were behind their mothers or elder sisters.

All were wide-eyed at these thoughts that Soo-she had brought.

Teacher seemed calm enough. But you could see her own back-fur was bristled from her efforts to understand.

Everyone needed a break, it seemed.

Soo-she found her heart beating rapidly, and breathing heavier. She still sat cross-legged, with her hands in her lap, back straight.

She was appreciating the beauty of this valley even more after being reminded of how stark the life was at the colony. It seemed a life-time ago, but had been less than a couple of weeks. What that translated to in terms of ship-board time would be different still.

Soo-she noted that the Teacher was perspiring on her lips, and so knew this was a strain for her.

Soo-she sent to Teacher, "And how are you doing?"

"Better than I would have expected. And you?"

"Fine, I guess. Better than running away from ferals."

Both smiled at her joke.

Teacher sent, "As soon as our bodies have calmed down a bit, we'll proceed again. All this data will take us days, even years to understand fully. Our next effort will have to be more focused to find what we can use to help us with the feral problem."

Soo-she knew from that she was also including the feral-hoomans in that statement.  All they had gotten so far was not too useful, but promised more. Hooman babies were natively able to send and recieve thoughts, but this was trained out of them, apparently. It wasn't known if there was a genetic time clock running on this, or if it were a cultural problem.

The idea that lacking telepathy, or thought-sharing, was a problem would have been humorous to Soo-she before she met Tig. But now she knew that between the hooman and feral's population increases, the sentients could be wiped out if something wasn't figured out.

Her job was to provide them the data, even if it cost her sanity, her health, or even her life.

Teacher interrupted her thoughts, "Well, we've both calmed down now, as well as our audience. Ready to begin again?"

Soo-she nodded. And the dreams came back...

II

THE SENTIENT HUNTING party had reached the original feral boundaries. The scent of feral wolves and other canine species was becoming more frequent.

"This place nearly reeks of ferals. It's a wonder they don't hunt each other by accident," sent Snarl.

Tig replied, "This adds up to the map Chief gave us. The main trails are well used. Just a matter of time before we spot them."

As if on cue, a feral wolf rounded a bend ahead and stopped in his tracks, stiff legged. His eyes grew round and back-fur bristled.

For a split-second, no one moved. Then the feral wheeled and ran back down the trail he had come.

Tig led the sentients on an easy lope after the feral. The idea was to bring fear to them. Their drumming paws on the packed ground was like a steady drum-beat to anyone with a wolf's hearing. That would precede them, along with the frantic report by the feral to its pack.

As the trail came to a clearing, the sentients fanned out to the edges, dragging dead limbs back to the center and piling them up as high as they could. Once the pile of deadwood was thick and tall, the sentient wolves ringed around it. Tig led the chant, a form of low growling without word we would understand. The entire pack growled the chant in unison. Smoke appeared above the wood pile, and then a small flame. At that they stopped.

Tig and Snarl led them down another trail which headed parallel to the sentient-feral boundary. This time, the sentients were careful to lope lightly and leave as little sound or scent as they could.

Shortly after they left, a pack of ferals came up from the other side of the clearing and stopped with they saw the burning wood in its center. The leader led them in single file around the clearing, just inside the trees. They scented as they went, and watched the fire as well. With the smoke in their nostrils, they missed the scent of the sentient's trail.

All the ferals were bristling in fear and warning to each other. Yapping and growling added to this.

What the ferals understood is that a party of sentients had invaded, and tried to put the forest on fire. Then they had disappeared like ghosts.

The pack leader barked once and headed back down the path they had come, back to their main camp where they had left their cubs and sitters. As they ran, the leader would stop occasionally and send one or two of his hunters off on side trails. These led to the other packs in the forest, and to their allies. All must be warned.

The sentients continued on their way to the next clearing. These clearings occurred naturally, and usually had several trails into and out of them. They repeated the fire tactic, leaving a pile of smoky wood that left a trail into the sky.

On went the day, the ferals seeing new smokes starting up such that it looked like the forest was magically catching fire across the horizon. Females with cubs were sent away from the fires, across a rivers and around beaver ponds to keep them safe.

Most of the hunters went with them, as a back line of defense. Only when the cubs and females were safely away from the fires could the hunters form any line of attack. The worry was that this wasn't natural, but some supernatural occurence. Fire was a danger that was known. Fires starting out of nothing was something they couldn't know. Being surrounded by fire would be their worst nightmare.

So the ferals moved back through the forest and plains, moving back toward the fields of the hoomans, where fire wouldn't burn. Of the two, fire was a worse danger than hoomans.

III

ONCE HIS HIS OWN FAMILY and pack were safely between the hooman settlement and the river, the pack leader went to a high ridge where he could see most of the feral lands. He spotted the fires burning in different locations. And saw that these were too regular. Also, that the earliets ones were burning out. These weren't natural, but they weren't all that supernatural. The fires weren't spreading, either.

After he looked for awhile, he brought his lieutenants up. A short bark and turning to the path would get them following.

Once on top of the hill, he would stare at each fire in turn, and then back to his top hunters. Then repeat this until they seemed to get it. They would repeat what he was doing and then would look at the others. Finally, all were looking at the fires one at a time and then to each other.

One got excited and started to howl, but was bowled over by the pack leader. Growling, he sat back on his haunches and looked to the trail beyond the clearing where the first fire had been set. He barked quietly, rose, and went down a trail off that ridge which led off in that direction. His small group of hunters followed.

IV

SOO-SHE BOWED HER HEAD again and forced her body to relax. Deep breathing helped calm her heart and bring an inner peace. She said a short prayer under her breath and felt the whiteness reappear, along with her memories.

"Pay attention, Sue Reginald! I won't repeat this so you can catch up with everyone else. Mark this on your slate!" Her classroom was small, and the students were nearly elbow to elbow. This was the fifth classroom they had used in this last solar year. The tunnels had been moving as they excavated to follow various veins of minerals. Those veins were left from the ancient volcanic activity, and so had taken the lines of least resistance to the surface, not straight ones.

Rooms were made in the leftover tunnels, as they could be sealed and pressurized. With the high production demands, converting old tunnels to usable space was no priority. If you didn't meet your quota's, it wasn't just the loss of prizes. You'd also lose supplies of food, water, and air. Broken tools would go unreplaced, and that would mean falling even further behind. The highest producers got the best supplies and attention from management and government. Because they could afford to pay the "management fees" that were required.

"Wage-slaves pay kickbacks, rich get richer and the poor get to dig more." That was the mantra of the Slaggers, those that brought the raw ore up to the fusion-kilns to be extracted for whatever wealth could be found.  The tunnels were dug where the higher-demand minerals were located. And they lived in the old tunnels as long as they were safe.

It was up to the engineers to guide the slagger crews. The foremen on each crew also organized runners to ferry their ore to the kilns.

After school, the children would help where they could. Safety was key, but everyone helping was the only real way those quotas could be met. Everyone worked, everyone helped. School lessons were all oriented to being better workers, learning what you needed to know in order to be safe.

If you haven't guessed by now, there was no Welfare. No organized protesting. No strikes. Each colony had to take care of their own, but the harsh environment dealt out its own justice. Unaware or careless people could get others killed. Any colony with a large number of people not working would fall behind on their quotas and start losing materials to do their jobs. There was no excess to pay people not to work, or to be "professional protesters" outside government representative offices.

Children got to play, but after their school and work was done. More often than not, this was the treadmills and climbing walls. Everyone spent some time at these daily. While they were fun, it was not only a way to blow off steam, but also to keep your lungs and agility in shape. People who could run from a tunnel collapse tended to live longer. People who could climb out of a crevass could be back working.

Soo-she loved her schooling, and had enough talent to become an engineer, she was told. Schooling was boring. The classes were tied to the median performance. Teachers had that job usually because they couldn't slag any more. Most often, this was because some accident had injured them such that they couldn't stay on their own job. So the brightest weren't the teachers, but might be slagger administrators. The old saying, "Those who can't do, teach." So she found herself out-guessing the teachers, but soon learned to be helpful to the slower students in the class, as that would raise the median score and get them more advanced texts.

Her mother would sneak engineering texts to her when she could, hoping that by raising one of her own to become an engineer, they'd have a better place to live and better rations.

Soo-she also hated that life. The constant orders and conditions in the mines were depressing. Some of the families had Bibles and books of poetry which she would borrow and read before the light's dimmed for the evening. Her favorites were Psalms and Proverbs, although some of the adventures were interesting. The trick was to get someone to explain what a "lion's den" was and the reason they kept wild beasts locked up.

There were no wild anything at the moon colonies. Everything had to be functional. Well, except maybe the royal elites. You never knew what they were thinking of doing. Somehow, they could affort to have yacht races between the colonies. Sometimes, after the video briefings that preceded the quota postings, they would show video of the races and which royal families won and lost in them. Supposedly this was supposed to be motivating to the slaggers. Mostly, they put up with watching them without any reaction. Elites were governed by who you were born to, not if you got elected. Especially if your parents were slaggers to begin with.

You did see people who became elites from the business or government positions, but the only stories of slaggers ever getting somewhere was in some old legend about a girl named Cinderella, who would pick up the minerals falling from the slag carts and bringing these to the furnaces to help meet the colony quota. She was a member of a business family who had run for government office and failed. But they were still invited to the gala balls. Her step-sisters kept her from going, but she met a royal prince somehow who recognized her genetic background and rescued her. They lived happily ever after, etc. Just a legend. No one she knew believed it.

That was why she would run on the treadmills as hard and as fast as she could. It became a metaphor for her life. Running as fast as you can to stay in the same place. But it helped get the stress out of her head. She felt trapped in that life. No matter how good she was at anything, there was no real way to get ahead. You were always working to just keep from falling behind.

Soo-she then felt the whiteness return and an idea to look for thought sending. She then dug around in her memories to find some of these. While her wolf friends were both fascinated and alarmed about human behavior, this wasn't going to do the wolves much good in dealing with their local ferals, both wolves and hooman.

Soo-she dug deep, looking for answers they could use.

It was her grandmother that gave her the first inkling...

V

WITH A DOZEN SMOKEY fires set in various clearings, the sentient wolf hunters had a ring that extended from in an arc across the forest. In their travels, they had found a dozen or more scents of feral wolves who had left in fear. None had been spotted yet, other than a few wolves running away.

The next clearing would be their last. Then they would make for the main camp of the biggest feral pack. Once they got there, the job was to defeat any feral they found and then defile the camp so it wouldn't be used again. This was the plan.

Just as they made the clearing, Snarl stopped them as he heard the sound of the interrupted howl from the ridge. He sent to Tig, "We're ahead of schedule. I'll take some hunters and check that out. It could be that we've got a flank attack coming.”

Tig had his reservations, but Snarl hadn't been anything but cooperative since the Chief had dressed him down at the council. So he consented.

Snarl left with about half the hunters, more than Tig wanted, but enough to defeat any hunters they might run into out there.

Tig took the rest to build the last bonfire.

VI

SOO-SHE REMEMBERED her grandmother with fondness. Tough as nails, and able to out-cuss the foreman, she was also the kindest person Soo-she had ever met. Her grandmother also taught her tricks to do with her mind. Grandma would try to sneak up on her while her attention was on other things, to tease her with a scare. This happened so often that Soo-she would keep attention all around her no matter what she was doing. And often this kept her and those around her safe from accidents.

But she also was able to sense when someone was near, almost what they were thinking. Once Grandma couldn't sneak up on her anymore, the game changed. Grandma started projecting ideas, giving her false perception of what was really there. A wall that wasn't a wall, but was Grandma who looked like a wall. Ore carts sitting by themselves with a broken wheel was another disguise. Once at a celebration, she projected a banquet table - but when you approached, you'd find it covered with flies and bad smells.

After awhile, Soo-she would call her out after everyone else had left or gone ahead. Grandma would appear out of a shimmer and they'd both laugh about it. So Grandma taught her this "umbrella trick" she called it. There was no real use for umbrellas where it never rained except when they raised the moisture high enough to drip from the ceilings. This settled the dust and cleaned the air.

Soo-she and Grandma could even make people think it was about to start this type of raining, and so they'd leave the common areas for shelter. That way, Soo-she could listen to Grandma tell her stories of the old days before the cities rose from Earth for the moon.

No one could hear them, and everyone else was trying to keep dry because they'd only see the rain.

Grandma had said that she could talk to the youngest, and some of them could do these for awhile, but Soo-she was the first to really master that trick to any way. Soo-she wondered why, and Grandma said she thought it was because she spent so much time alone.  When she was running the treadmill, Grandma was often on a bench in a corner of the room just listening. She'd been able to hear Soo-she grumble to herself and complain even though she said nothing out loud.

Grandma said she would also "talk" to the babies when they were young, and awake while everyone else was asleep. Some of the brighter ones, like Soo-she, could talk to her even while others were present. The trick was concentrating and not allowing yourself to get distracted. This was often how she would find out all sorts of gossip and secrets, since people would talk among the babies when they didn't think they were being heard.

Some thought Grandma was a bit odd, as she never explained why she did things. But she was almost always right, even when someone denied it. Grandma spent a lot of time looking after kids so the parents could do their time slagging, or just get a decent night's sleep. So she was able to know everything that happened, even in other colonies.

Soo-she asked once how she knew all that, and Grandma said that this was because all the colonies ran on the same schedule, so the babies were often all left alone at the same time. Those that were awake would talk to each other over a distance and tell marvelous stories of what they had heard. She also said this is why sometimes a baby will start giggling and laughing for no reason.

The problem, she said, was when they started talking. This was when they would quit sending to each other. Not because they couldn't, it was because they weren't supposed to.

Soo-she's days in the mines brought her into contact with many people. So she started testing to find if anyone else could send or recieve. And she found some who could, but only when they were alone. None would admit it, because that would mean they were "crazy".

At night, Soo-she would sometimes lay awake with her eyes closed and watch the dreams pass by. These visions she couldn't say were hers or someone elses, but she seemed to feel when they were really someone else's. Often, she'd overhear someone the next day talking about a particularly crazy dream they'd had, describing just what Soo-she had seen in hers. But Soo-she never told anyone about her dreams, so this gave her more questions than it did answers.

At that, the whiteness turned her memories back to the present.

Opening her eyes, she saw Teacher laid out on her side, panting.

- - - -

THE FERAL WOLF-LEADER skirted the clearing and picked up the trail of hooman suit scraps along the trail. Like breadcrumbs or a ball of string, it didn't take much for the wolf's keen sense of smell to follow it back to the valley. His hunters followed him as they went, right up to the rocky edge. At that they laid down to watch.

This trail was not a common one, and few wolves knew about this entrance to the valley. None of them were feral. Until now.

These wolves watched and waited. They rested. Across the valley there was some gathering of wolves in a circle of some sort. No other sign of any wolves nearby.

It was a fine day, otherwise. Now they knew the hunters were out. Here was a chance for revenge. It was time to watch, to plan. And a perfect spot to do it from.

VII

TIG LEAD HIS SMALL pack of hunters toward the main camp. All sign was that it was empty. Fires had done their trick. The sentients scouted around the edge of it and paused at streams to quench their thirst. It was a series of dens in a hillside, amongst fallen trees and old boulders. Shale falling from the cliffs above gave an uphill approach to the dens, with no way to attack from two sides. The dens could be simply defended. But no wolves were present. They'd left in a hurry, with half-eaten meals.

Tig's pack got busy going in and out of the dens, scratching out any bedding and leaving sign at their openings. They defiled the dens in any way they could, even dragging smelly weeds into the dens and scratching them into the dirt floors and walls, covering them slightly and breaking the pungent berries with their feet, cleaning these on the dirt outside.

Tig was busy with a den when he sensed something changed. It was too quiet outside.

As he crawled to the outside, something landed on his neck, covering his eyes, while his front paws were seized, dragging him out to the bright sunshine.

Three more weights were added to his back, holding him down. His hind legs were also seized with sharp canine teeth. If he moved, one or more of his legs could be broken. And already it was hard breathing.  

His head was uncovered. As his vision cleared, he saw Snarl. Smiling. 

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Did you love The Hooman Probe? Then you should read The Hooman Saga: Book 2 - Part One by C. C. Brower!

The meteor talked to Tig as he watched it land. Meteors came now and then. But never one that screamed like it was afraid of landing. 

All he wanted to do was to make sure his pack was safe against the fire from the sky. But the meteor had called him, somehow. He was there when the meteor turned out to be an escape pod. And opened...

His surprise was that the meteor had brought a human female back. She said her name was Sue. And she could talk to wolves like him. That had never happened before. Even when the Hoomans were here.

Sue was unlike anything he had ever encountered. He knew she was the solution to their problems - and more.

Sue had her own issues, her own reason for returning to Earth. Those would have to wait. First Tig had to get her to safety. Even though she was not as fast or skilled at what she needed in order to survive on her own. 

There were miles of rough terrain ahead, days of travel, and the ferals had set a trap for them....

Excerpt:

Tig heard the screams in his mind.

Someone falling from a great height. From inside that smoking, red-orange meteor headed toward them. He saw it coming from the bleached-white rock cliffs he stood on.

Then he heard the sonic booms with the roar of a meteor burning through the atmosphere.

The crash, and the flames. But no explosion.

Tig then did what he shouldn't have. He didn't do what "normal" wolves do.

There was a fire. If it spread, his pack could be in danger.

He knew that if the fire got out of control, it could ultimately reach the valley his pack lived in. He ran toward the fire, toward the meteor strike. Not that he could put it out but he needed to know.

- - - -

When he arrived. He was relieved to find the only thing burning was an old snag. Nothing around it but rocks.

But this meteor was a strange one. They were used to meteors.

This meteor left a streak. It didn't come down and explode.

This one had screamed in his mind.

He looked back where it came from. It left a trail and he could see it coming down off the mountain. It had bounced and skipped and then skidded to where it stopped against that old tree. It wasn't burning up, as the other ones did. The descent had burnt off most of what surrounded it, leaving a smooth surface. Scratched and seared, but not pitted like a cinder.

Tig's curiosity kept him going closer. It was either going to explode or not.

Suddenly something popped and opened a hole in its side. Tig froze. He couldn't see what it was clearly through the smoke.

- - - -

Sue knew it was a rough landing. She felt sorry for the cyborg pilot Ben who was more part of the equipment than he was alive. Still, she felt for everything that lived, whether stuck in machinery or able to move around on its own. Sue remembered her cats, parakeets, fish. They'd look at her like they wanted to tell her something, and she wanted to say something to them. She didn't know the right way to tell them, the right words to use.

But she shook her head to clear her senses. As she swung the bar on the hatch, it just hissed open. The acrid air of tree burning nearby flowed into the cabin. Clouds of smoke.

She started coughing as she came out climbing up over the seats and the control panel. She knew she had to get air. One arm up. Get her shoulders up. Keep scrambling. Couldn't see very well. The smoke stung her eyes.

She knew it was more blue in that direction so she kept climbing. Had to get out. She lifted herself up until she was able to lean over at the waist across the opening, and at last breathe in some fresh air.

Then everything went black...  

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The Lazurai Returns

The Case of the Forever Cure

The Lazurai Emergence

For the Love of 'Cagga

Peace: The Forever War

Return to Earth

Snow Cave

The Emperor's Scribe

Short Story Fiction Anthology

New Voices Vol 001 Jan-Feb 2018

New Voices Vol 003

C. C. Brower Short Story Collection 01

Tales of the Lazurai

A Writer's Reader: Short Stories From New Voices

New Voices 004 July-August 2018

An SF/Fantasy Reader: Short Stories From New Voices

A Romance Reader: Short Stories From New Voices

A Mystery Reader 001: Short Stories From New Voices

New Voices Vol. 5: Sep-Oct 2019

C. C. Brower Short Story Collection 02

J. R. Kruze Short Story Collection 02

New Voices Volume 6

Speculative Fiction Modern Parables

When the Cities Died, I Danced

When The Wild Calls

Mr. Ben's Rail Road

The Arrivals (Coming Soon)

The Hooman Saga

The Hooman Saga: Book 2 - Part One

The Hooman Probe

The Hooman Saga: Book II - Part 1 Complete

The Hooman Saga: Book One

When the Crow Calls

Moon Bride

Totem

Blood Moon

Moon Queen

Moon Shadow

The Moon Cleaner

Alice in the Moon

Moon Rebels

The Hooman Saga: Book II, Part 2

Watch for more at C. C. Brower’s site.

About the Publisher

"We Become What We Think About."

A veteran publishing imprint and a practical philosophy for life, Living Sensical Press has been active publishing new and established authors since 2006.

We take advantage of the new Print on Demand and ebook technologies to enable wider discovery for authors.

We publish in most of the major genres of fiction and non-fiction.

Our current emphasis is in speculative fiction modern parables.

For More Information, Visit:

https://livingsensical.com/books/