Blog Tour: Rising Tide by Lynn Kevin Steigleder - Excerpt

Coming this March!  A wonderful tour for non other than Riding Tide by author Lynn Steigleder~  

Please enjoy this tour page as it is updated. 

Book Description

Publication Date: April 28, 2009

Another blast ripped through the Orion, cutting all power and knocking him to the floor. Ben lifted himself off the deck and found it was impossible to stand. He crawled to the COM panel. Marty! All systems down! All systems down! With a category six hurricane above and his habitat below destroyed by the blast, Ben finds himself alone in a decompression chamber. Suddenly he receives a mysterious message. Dash, dash, dot, dot, dot, a seven. S.E.E.K.C.7. Is he dreaming, or is someone trying to reach him? In Rising Tide author Lynn Steigleder depicts a world in which land is at a premium due to the advancing sea, and where mans attempt to adapt has led to a decay of morality and survival of the fittest. In the midst of the ocean, a crew of criminally minded profiteers rescues a stranded diver, Ben Adams. Is the rescue just a fortunate coincidence for Ben, or has he been led to this rendezvous with fate for a common goal? Rising Tide is a novel of rebirth for a world corrupted by evil.

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Biography

Lynn Kevin Steigleder was born in Henrico County, Virginia. Raised in the suburbs of Richmond, Virginia, Lynn spent most of his adult life as a supervisor in the field of construction and fabrication. When Lynn's department was outsourced in 2007 within two months of his diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, he realized he needed to transition into a new career path due to his energy and mobility challenges.

Having dabbled in writing short stories for his own entertainment, his son challenged him to consider writing as a career. He accepted the challenge and quickly found he had a flair for creative writing that incorporated fantasy, science fiction, mystery, and adventure. His first novel, Rising Tide, was accepted for publication and released in 2009. Now working on the draft of his fourth book of the Rising Tide series, Lynn has the second and third books ready to submit for publication.

Recently, Lynn was a finalist in the Indie National Book Award Contest.

Lynn currently lives in rural Virginia, with his wife, Donna. They have three grown children who reside in the area.

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Tour Schedule

MARCH 2013

4th

Contessa at the Crossroads

Second Book to the Right

Izz "Pingle" Bookish Place

5th

Always a Booklover
The BookWorm
Doctors Notes

6th

Andi's Book Reviews

WTF Are You Reading?

Cherie Reads

7th

Hey Wanna See My Indies?

Wanted Readers

8th

Icy Cold Reads

Little Library Muse

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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

CHAPTER ONE

• • •

Day Five

Ben awoke to a voice echoing throughout the chamber.  “Topside to Ben, come in, Ben.” The transmission repeated. “Topside to Ben. It’s time to rise and shine, sweetheart.”

He moaned and rolled out of the sack. He didn’t have far to roll. The space lived up to its name; it was the size of a tin can. Two bunks, a dry toilet, and a panel to monitor life support, position, and temperature along with numerous small storage bays made up the  interior of the Orion.

He reached for the COM and yawned. “This is Ben, Topside, go ahead.”

“Good morning, Ben. So glad you could take time out of your busy schedule to join us.”

“Good morning, Marty,” Ben said, rolling his eyes.

“Ben, it’s time to begin system’s check. You’ll be on the surface in just under thirty hours.”

Ben moved to the control console, yawned again, and rubbed his eyes.  “Roger,” he said. “Beginning system’s check.”

He knew this was necessary, but why wake him at four a.m. every morning for the same thing? Couldn’t they do this a little later in the day?

“How are you feeling?” Marty asked. “Your vitals look good from up here.”

“Good overall, just a little dizzy,” Ben answered.

“It’s probably the nitrogen,” Marty countered. “We changed your breathing mixture again last night.” He paused. “Ben,” Marty continued, “don’t forget to check your interior hatch control also.”

“Everything’s operative,” Ben said.

“Good,” Marty replied. “Topside out.”

“Orion out,” Ben replied.

The one thing Ben loathed more than Pete’s cooking were the rations onboard the Orion. These things must have been around since the First World War, he thought. Unwilling to dive into another cardboard-based meal, Ben sat down on the edge of his bunk, hung his head, and closed his eyes. In this position he could sense the capsule’s movement intensify. He moved back to the COM.

“Topside, this is Ben. What’s with the bumpy ride?”

“A tropical storm,” came the reply.

He waited for further explanation. None came. Ben stiffened. “Is that it?” he said. “Why so tight lipped?”

“Ben, this is Marty. A tropical depression formed yesterday morning. We’ve been waiting to see how it plays out before we filled you in. I didn’t want to cause any undue alarm.”

“Well?” Ben questioned.

“The forecast calls for slow strengthening,” Marty continued. “According to our radar, they may have been wrong. The next update is due soon. Just hang tight. I’m confident that it won’t be a factor in getting you to the surface. If it’s any consolation,” he said, “they named this one Benjamin.”

“I don’t care what they call it,” Ben said. “Just keep me in the loop. It’s my butt in this can, not yours.” He started to say more then thought better of it. “Orionout,” he finished.

In this environment, hours seemed like days. Ben thumbed through the rations again and decided on a prepackaged breakfast bar. He sat down, unwrapped the bar, and took a bite. The Orion lurched violently, tossing him into the port wall. “What the—” It lurched again, throwing him to the opposite side.

The intercom brought him back. “Ben, can you hear me?”

Ben pressed the COM button. “What’s going on up there?” he screamed.

“Ben, it’s not up here, it’s down there. There’s been an explosion in the habitat.”

“Marty,” Ben said, “what about Pete?”

“I don’t know, Ben,” he said. “I don’t know.”

Another blast ripped through the Orion, cutting all power and knocking him to the floor. Ben lifted himself off the deck and found it was impossible to stand. He crawled to the COM panel.

“Marty! All systems down! All systems down!” he repeated.

“Ben, your umbilical has been severed. You’ll have to power up onboard support.”

“Understood,” Ben responded. “What next?” he whispered.

The mere push of a button would begin the conversion, but now even the simplest task was proving nearly impossible for Ben with the capsule bouncing violently.

He located the switch and managed to convert all outside life support to onboard systems control. The battery backup kicked in. The lights flickered and then burnt steadily, not as bright as usual, but it was better than the complete darkness that had momentarily filled the cabin. One look at his gauges told him he was still eighty feet down, too deep to blow the ballast and surface.

The Orion continued to bob up and down. Ben pushed the COM button. “Marty, why am I not stabilizing?”

“Ben, the tropical storm has been strengthening rapidly for the past few hours. The blast bounced you up almost sixty feet. You’ve gotten close enough to the surface to feel part of what we’re getting up here,” he said.  “We’ve got twenty-foot seas, going to thirty.” There was a long silence.

“Give it to me straight this time, Marty,” Ben said.

“Ben, the storm’s going to get stronger, maybe a cat five, or worse. On top of that, with the new protocol in place, everyone on board the platform moves into theArk. We’ll lose our COM link,” he said. “You’ll be on your own, Ben. I’m sorry.”

The Ark was a self-sufficient life station positioned beneath the drilling platform. It could support up to thirty people for a maximum of five days. With limited propulsion it could even be cut loose and move away from OZ if necessary, tethered by a one-inch, two-mile long cable that could be winched in when the “all-clear” was given.

“Great,” Ben said. The chamber lurched again, this time slamming into one of the oilrig’s massive legs. “Marty, I’m still tethered to the sea floor. I’m too close to the rig. I’m gonna have to cut loose from the cable and float free before this thing beats me to death.”

“Ben, do not blow your ballast. Repeat. Do not blow your ballast. You’ll need another sixteen hours minimum to complete your decompression cycle.”

“Roger that,” Ben said. Beads of sweat gathered on  his forehead.

“What about Pete?” Ben asked.

“As close as we can determine, the storm wrenched the habitat’s life support umbilical loose, allowing the atmosphere to escape,” Marty said. “Once the pressure reached a critical level … ” his voice trailed off. “I’m sorry, Ben; no one could have survived that implosion.”

“Orion out,” Ben said. His mind was blank, his body numb. He disengaged the quick connects from the cable and began to drift. The oilrig’s stabilizer scraped the side of Orion, seemingly to say goodbye.

Marty transmitted one last time. “We’re moving to the Ark,” he said. “Good luck, Ben. Topside out.”

Overwhelmed, Ben didn’t answer.