On the eve of a cataclysmic event, the shadow of sedition permeates the Commissariat to endanger the entire Commonwealth of Planets. A psychically-endowed commissar works secretly with Cybertronic cultists to prevent Universal Armageddon, and he is made painfully aware that his undertaking, necessary to the Commonwealth as it may be, borders dangerously on sedition. To resolve this quandary, the canny and diligent commissar has the incorruptible Shadow Corps recruit a gifted – but famously bigoted – Apex commando. He is to be assigned to look over the commissar’s shoulders, so to guarantee his loyalty to the Commonwealth of Planets.
The Apex trooper is known to dislike the Commissariat and to distrust telepaths, which makes him ideal for the task. He is also known to deliver on his assignments, whatever they may be. Granted full autonomy to act, the agent is sent on a five-year mission to scrutinise and apply judgement on the commissar, as a fail-safe to his questionable operation. Assigned to this biased legionnaire of the Apex Regiment is a transhuman assassin trained by the Commissariat. She is meant to balance out the Apex trooper’s prejudice, but is that really all that she’s supposed to do?
Little does either of these agents of the Shadow Corps know that the rogue commissar himself was the one who picked them. In view of the alleged purpose of their involvement in the mission, no one questioned the commissar when he claimed that their ignorance was paramount for them to function with the detachment that was expected of them. Yet the truth was that their objective participation would be key to the commissar’s plot.
The truth is: I write because I enjoy communicating with the reader.
I know full well that, once I hand the narrative to you, you'll make my stories into your own, giving them your own spin with your mind's eye. I like that.
Together, you and I will conspire to create the world that greets you when you read my tales, and that's an enticing prospect.
If I were a songwriter and you a musician, I could give you the notes, but you'd always be playing them to your own rhythm. Writing, as I see it, is a little like that. So, shall we dance?