Moiraland vol. 1: Moiraland, #1

By Richard R Lockwood

Moira Philips, once a young protégé of the enigmatic Otto Chmura, gains the power to travel through time from her mentor in the 18th Century. When Moira decides to rewrite the history of Ireland and free it from English domination, she unleashes a powerful blend of technology and divine illusions upon the unsuspecting people of 1640. Moira and her followers create a realm where the line between mythology and reality is happily blurred, opening doors to endless possibilities.

"Moiraland" immerses you in an intricate tapestry of history, mythology, technological power, and the sheer joy of defying the limits. Experience the birth of a world where the past, present, and future, intertwine in fanciful and entertaining harmony.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard R Lockwood
• Release date: May 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223214908

Richard R Lockwood

Was born in Miami FL. Worked for the University of Florida until I retired. Been married to the lovely Cecelia for 40 years now, proof that I'm a lucky guy. Now living on the Nature Coast in Citrus County. Enjoy all kind of wildlife, especially reptiles and insects, so I'm pretty sure I'm in the right place. When I'm not writing I enjoy wood carving. Both of the heads beside me in the picture are cedar from the Chassahowitzka Forrest. I also love to walk my dog Bark Anthony. Probably need to go do that now. A Chronology of the Twins Alternate Universe novels and some thoughts and rationales - https://www.ricklockwood.net/Chronology.html My Books on Books 2 Read - https://books2read.com/ap/RaZ9Br/Richard-R-Lockwood  

Book preview

2

When she awoke she asked for a status report from Otto. The ship's mind did not bother her with any information about the ship unless there was a problem. It knew she wanted to know if they were in a suitable timeline. They had been timeslipping for a little over six days now and he was as pleased as a mechanical mind could be to inform her that they had arrived at a good match for her criteria.

We noted 17 destroyed Earths, 81 mostly lifeless Earths, 16 Earths inhabited by invasive aliens, and 423 Earths dominated by reptiles. There were over 30,000 covered with ice with some faint life signs. Of the 4,850 non ice-age worlds dominated by humans but unclaimed by other time travelers, we finally reached one that conforms to the general geology and habitation patterns of your native Europe. The ship is stationed a thousand miles above Ireland, unreflective, as you directed, my lady.

If it was similar to her old time they might have telescopes. She wasn’t worried about the discovery of her ship in orbit, just wanting to avoid unwanted side effects or panics if possible. Of course the ship could have used any measuring system known, but Moira had grown up in 18th century Ireland and liked miles, so, Good, send down some drones to get the language.

Aye, my lady.

She had breakfast and read reports of the landmasses and geography below. After breakfast she sparred with two of her combat androids until she was breathing heavily, then took a shower before stepping through a refresher and dressing again. A basic language report was ready and she allowed it to be imprinted, then practiced with Otto in the new Erse. It was not much different, she was comfortable with it after lunch and ordered a gunship to take her down.

Her shipsuit was upgraded to a combat suit, no different in its metallic blue looks, but thicker and reactive, and a shoulder length curly red-haired wig was added over her skullcap, kept in place with an embroidered silk headband. Black boots, a light silver cloak, and a weapon staff, completed her own attire. When she entered the gunship she saw her two gynoids, dressed as she was with the exception of blond and black wigs, crowding the small cabin but leaving her own space at the pilot’s station in the front. She could have taken one of the larger warships berthed on the middle deck but already felt overprotected. Nothing down on the surface was a threat unless she did something truly stupid, and she liked to think she was old enough to know better by now. She ordered the matte black gunship to descend, the panel it was strapped to rotated out of the highliner, the craft undocked, then the blunt box shape dropped down into the upper atmosphere.

Flying over the sea she saw several sailing ships traversing the waters between the islands; they also looked about right for her target time and she ticked that off her mental list. The smaller geologic features were similar as well, but she had noted that in the first report, and in fact it was one of the initial trigger conditions; if they had not been she would still be timeslipping. The Irish wouldn’t be the Irish without Ireland, she thought, then tried the phrase over a few times in the new variant tongue and decided it would do, even though she probably would never say it.

She ordered the gunship to subsonic and hovered for a while over the central eastern port. The new Dublin was busy and crowded which was good, a sign of vitality, but it might also be another sign she was looking for, and moments later she saw a troop transport disembarking soldiers. Either it was an Irish army returning, or her new Ireland was being invaded, an almost constant occurrence over the centuries. Her gunship in stealth, she hovered near enough to the ship to get some of their shouted taunts, jeers, and commands of a typical army operation. After a few minutes she had enough to be certain it was a second language and labeled it new English. Well enough. Looks like a good spot, she thought. She sent an order to send down some sensor platforms and drones and begin a detailed survey of the island, then, after hesitating a moment, to send up the claim beacons set to Private. It was her time now, unless she changed her mind, again.

She picked a spot on a street that was unpopulated at the moment and set the gunship down. Exiting after the gynoids, she stepped a few feet away and looked around, then sent the gunship up for overwatch. Everything was close enough and felt normal enough. The air had the salty damp smell normal for a coastal town, she grasped her staff and led the gynoids towards the docks.

It felt good to be walking again, the full gravity felt just right for exercise, the weather was fair for an Irish midsummer, it promised to rain but wasn’t raining now. All of the people they passed looked them over and some gave the three cloaked women a polite ‘Good Day’. A squad of soldiers passed by and offered ruder comments and offers. Moira didn’t reply, her purpose was more important than educating a few rude men, and the soldiers went on. Reaching the waterfront area she paused again and looked around, then resumed strolling and sightseeing. As they neared the ship she had observed from above she noted several pairs of English soldiers walking around, but no one thought to try to stop the trio of women.

A troop of soldiers in armor and carrying pikes was coming off the vessel in reasonably good order. Moira stopped a short ways away and ordered the blond to cut them in half. The blond’s staff laser was activated a moment later and a fiery red beam swept across the men already landed at waist height, then traveling up the gangway at a slant. On the ground now lay a squirming bloody mess of meat and charred clothes mixed with weapons and baggage. On the gangway most of the body parts and equipment dropped off into the water. Gynoid Two, the blackhaired one, now ran up the plank and when she reached the deck began slaughtering the men on board. Gynoid One began burning a hole into the hull from the dockside, probing for gunpowder stores and Moira moved further away to watch. Her combat suit would protect her from any kinetic damage but she could still be knocked over by enough of it. She looked around at several people who had stopped at the violence and were now watching the red lasers in action. Most looked around in shock and wild emotion, wondering what it all meant, but a few were watching with more awareness and some of them were watching her, no doubt noting her similarity in dress and staff to the two attackers. She nodded when she met someone's eyes, Yes this is my doing. She could have easily destroyed the ship from her gunship, but that would not have served her purpose today, though she would probably deal with some of the invaders that way in the future. She watched the dockside and used her own staff laser to cut down some soldiers running closer. Welcome to a historical day, boys.

Gynoids One and Two had the ship well lit. A small explosion added its energy to the chaos, her suit easily dealt with the momentary debris shower. Moira began to lead back the way they’d come. The gynoids took up flank positions to her sides and cut in half anyone with a drawn weapon. Bells were ringing from some of the smaller ships to spread the alarm and she heard a cannon boom. Soldiers were running around, if they came after the trio they died.

A man stood out from beside a building and took another step towards them as they passed, showing both hands palm towards them, Who are you? he asked, then respectfully bowed his head, waiting for her answer or death.

She had the words ready in the new language, she needed someone to deliver them to, and he was brave and polite. She paused and said as clearly and as loudly without screaming as she could, Moira, High Queen of Ireland.

He dropped to his knees as they passed and she heard him yell it, repeating it after her. A true believer already? More likely an opportunist, or a fool. A minute later the gunship above them reported the man had been cut down by a soldier and Moira turned and cut down the soldiers following them. The ones following them kept a safer distance, the gunship landed between them and their pursuit, they boarded and disappeared.

She landed twice more that afternoon, in Cork and Wexford, doing much the same, and leaving similar results behind.

3

After any action she liked to go swimming. She picked a secluded beach in the Bahamas. Her yacht come down from the highliner and keep her in its shadow to protect her fair skin while she paddled around the warm water. After an hour she was ravenous and ate more than usual, then retired early.

Her advisers had their instructions and Dorothy, her first persona, woke her at midnight of her new local time. The vast majority of Ireland was asleep and since her target population were farmers and their wives they slept better than most. The soporific gas was hardly necessary but it was a good idea to cover all possibilities. After surveying thousands of locations since arriving, Sir Arthur, her military persona adviser, had placed sensor drones next to a hundred farmhouses. Each of the selected houses contained a young healthy couple. Close examination of each woman had revealed her current reproductive status. Each of the half dozen women selected tonight was ready but not yet pregnant. That would change before sunrise.

Moira was not necessary to the operation, except for providing her own ova, fertilized by O’Neill, but she liked to supervise and so she did, ensuring that the checklist was followed for each of the new wetmothers. Each of the women also had a neural lace installed at the same time as the embryo. She would be able to track her little cuckoo birds and would know instantly if something traumatic happened. In nine months, if her other plans succeeded, she would begin reaping a crop of new children. It would not be difficult to identify any with ability, O’Neill was a big strong intelligent ginger, he had not been chosen at random, and neither would any other man she chose from the locals to continue her breeding program. She had noticed a few other redheads during the actions yesterday and had no worries over that. She preferred them, but they were not essential.

Arthur, she said, knock out O’Neill, give him the hypnotic ward we discussed, then get him off my ship.

The persona replied, Aye, my lady. Should I give him a language imprint as well?

Go ahead. We’ve been pampering the bastard, why change now?

Sir Arthur did not reply to the rhetorical question, his orders were clear enough. She knew gas drones were even now popping out of their hideaways in O’Neill’s quarters. Androids would place him in a medical pod for the imprinting. In half an hour he would be placed on a shuttle and taken to the surface. Drop him off in a nice quiet place near Cork. Give him a good sword and a purse full of silver pesos, he’ll be fine.

Aye, my lady.

Personal business taken care of she slept again and woke a few hours later. This time she fought with her androids before breakfast and enjoyed a longer meal while she read reports and discussed things with her personas.

Large important castles were easy to identify. Those with well tended grounds and well equipped soldiers were given special attention. Eventually she would have London under similar surveillance, and then I’ll spend all damn day reading reports, though she knew Arthur would alert her to anything that might threaten her. Still, it was her kingdom, she had claimed it yesterday, best keep both eyes on it.

In Dublin Castle there were many discussions happening this morning, well sprinkled with strong language and emotional reactions. Orders had been sent out by couriers to keep an eye out for the three women or nuns, and the words ‘Moira, High Queen of Ireland’ were not to be used under penalty of death. She watched a video of the man issuing those orders and thought, I wonder how you’ll like saying it.

Sir Arthur reported that O’Neill had been laid in a forest near Cork. She doubted if she would ever meet the man again and put him out of her mind. Let’s go to Limerick.

4

King’s Castle on the River Shannon in the heart of Limerick was where it should be, a sonic scan quickly gave a current schematic. She had no intention of ever inhabiting it, but it would be a good place to take fealty unless it was too dirty, or full of corpses, which was unlikely unless the locals put up a far greater fight than expected. If things were similar to her old time, the place would be full of Catholic soldiers, hoping to demonstrate loyalty to the hated English and thereby keep some portion of their own lands. She had a score of Knight androids, fully clad in silver armor. They followed her down in a transport from the highliner and got to work as her gunship hovered above.

At this point she had no intention of killing these people. It was unknown what their allegiance or religion were; the pennants flying above the castle were meaningless to her. Arthur had the schematic, gunpowder stores were swarmed and quarantined, any men equipped for a fight were swiftly knocked down and trussed up by the Knights, then loaded onto float barges and sent out the castle gate, then dumped on the road fronting it.

By the time the last men were expelled the first had managed to free themselves from their bonds and were loudly objecting. Moira transferred from the gunship to her royal barge, a big rectangular lift platform. She floated down, flanked by her gynoids close by and a Knight at each corner of the craft.

The sight of the big ornate barge flying through the air shut them up. A few soldiers outside the fort were still armed, but apparently no one was foolish enough to take aim at her, or perhaps they had no ammunition, the gunship’s lasers stayed calm. The barge approached over the river, lowered until people could see her and her entourage, then stopped near the group of ejected soldiers.

Moira spoke, her words amplified by speakers built into the side of the barge reverberated across and down the road, Your women and children in the castle will not be harmed. They are not hostages, they are free to join you out here. If you would reenter the castle and join them, then you must bend the knee and swear fealty to Moira, the High Queen of Ireland. If you wish to die right now, she paused and looked them over, just call me a witch.

Most of the men looked towards one man to respond. A big older man with dull reddish hair. Moira gave him her attention, Feel free to think it over.

I command this castle by commission from Charles the First, King of England, Scotland, and of Ireland, he replied. I cannot, with honor, do anything other than contest your unlawful action.

Your name, sir?

Séamus Maguire, your Majesty, Baron Clohogue.

You wish to fight, Séamus Maguire? Or do you wish to swear fealty and have your fief rest on the strongest foundation?

Maguire looked around, There is no doubt of your strength, Majesty. I have no doubt myself, you and your men could have killed us all if you wished. You have my gratitude for your forbearance.

I understand, Séamus Maguire. It is not an easy thing to swear fealty to someone who has just knocked you down to the dirt. Know this, then, she raised her voice so all could hear for a mile around, My mother was an O’Brien. My father was Thor, God of Thunder. I will prove it. She raised a fist over her head and pointed south. Gunship pairs began crossing over the land at supersonic speeds in stealth. The rumbles of thunder were strong and close and fast. She waved her arm and drew it slowly over her head in an arc to the north. The thunder shook the ground around them and