There are three rules for time traveling:
- Do not double warp.
- Do not interact with people from the past.
- Do not allow the past to catch up to the present.
Unfortunately, 18-year-old Galileo Matox is about to break them all.
Galileo works for ScorpioCorp as a warper, traveling back in time to collect evidence of high-priority crimes. His latest mission? To identify a senator’s murderer. Seems simple enough.
But everything goes wrong before the mission even begins. Not only does the crew’s warp drop them eight days prior to the murder, it also badly injures a teammate. With his best friend quickly bleeding out, Galileo swaps his own warp suit for her damaged one and sends the team back to the present, initiating a (very illegal) warp within a warp. Now, Galileo’s stranded in the past—and in an alternate reality.
Enter Avaline, a gifted time-space scientist and daughter of the soon-to-be-dead senator. Galileo negotiates with Avaline (completely shattering Rule #2), and they reach an uneasy truce (which may have involved blackmail). Together, they must find a way to fix the warp suit before the assassination.
However, as the day of the murder draws near, Galileo begins to realize he may be responsible for the senator’s death. And worse—he has fallen for the victim’s daughter. If Galileo ever wants to see his team again, he’ll have to decide between killing the father of the girl he loves, or starting an interstellar war. After all, sometimes it’s the smallest change that causes the biggest ripple.
“Inception” meets “Minority Report” in space, WARPERS is a YA sci-fi complete at 100,000 words with adult crossover potential.
Thank you for your time and consideration,
Temple City, Enora
Jumping back four days to watch a dog get hit by a hover car is a bloody waste of time. Unfortunately, that’s my job.
I swallow a huff, wishing Gamma team wasn’t assigned this joke of a mission. We could be solving that Leviathan kidnapping case, or figuring out who’s responsible for sabotaging the Interstellar Fleet’s dreadnoughts, or a thousand other crimes more important than identifying the license plate number of the asshole who ran over Senatori Gable’s pet dog.
Not saying said-asshole doesn’t deserve a good dose of justice. But still—kidnapping case, or road rage mystery? One clearly carries more priority.
I wince as Takana’s too-loud voice crackles in my aud implant. “Hasn’t anyone told the senatori that live pets went out of style, like, fifty-million years ago? Droids are the newest rage. Especially droid horse racing—”
“Maybe some people prefer a living, breathing companion instead of a mass of circuits and synth-fur.” I track the dog in question as it races back and forth across the lawn of the senatori’smansion.
At precisely 03:25:00, the dog will leap over the shock fence, plant its furry little butt in the middle of the road, and get run over by an oncoming hover car.
Tilting my head, I can’t figure outwhy the dog reminds me of something . . . something just beyond my recollection’s grasp. An echo of a half-forgotten memory. Doesn’t matter, though. I’m not interested in dredging up old memories right now. Not today—not on the third anniversary of The Incident . . .
“But have you seen the Prix Race re-runs?” Takana interrupts my thoughts, pacing along the sidewalk across the street from me. “I wish I got into droid horse racing earlier—it’s absolutely wicked. Agatha’s Dream won the last Prix by 1.24 seconds and broke the track record.”
“You’ve got to admit,” Cooper, Gamma team’s techie, joins the chat. “The senatori’s dog is kind of cute.”
He’s stationed at the far end of the boulevard with Zeke, our navigator.
Despite the distance, I can make out Cooper’s head bobbing in sync with his fingers as they tap furiously across his FlexScreen. It’s almost mesmerizing if you watch long enough. The entire team’s positioned to capture a near-perfect 360 view of the Event with our contact cams.
“Dogs shit,” Takana grumbles, like that should be reason enough to ban live animals throughout the galaxy.
Cooper snorts, and his head pauses mid-bob as he flips her a rude hand sign, which she cheerfully returns.
A hound. The realization slams into me like an electric shock. That’s why the dog looks strangely familiar. My old team leader used to own a droid copy of an old-world racing hound. The same team leader who died after he double warped to save my life three years ago.
I bite the inside of my cheek then exhale a slow breath. Focus on the mission, Matox. Don’t think about The Incident. I give my head a sharp shake, purging all thoughts of double warping, stray bullets, and old-team-leader-who-also-served-as-a-surrogate-father from my mind.