Call of Destiny is a coming-of-age story about four college-age students struggling to find themselves in a very traditional-almost conformist-culture. To high school senior Michael Gillen, living on Earth in the late twenty-fifth century is a miserable existence. His parents always ride him for lacking discipline and ambition, certainly a result of the long shadow cast over him by his older brother. Even worse, the Gillen family's well-known and jaded history makes him an easy target for every bully that comes along. No, Michael can't wait until graduation so that he can finally flee his wretched life! That's when the young man seizes the opportunity to realize his lifelong dream of exploring the stars. Just one problem: the prestigious university offering that chance is a military academy and he is anything but military-minded. Meanwhile, an evil tyrant has come to power far across the solar system, quickly threatening the peace of Terrae Solaris. Will the stubborn, free-spirited, and idealistic young man wash out before realizing his dream? Will his family's past get the best of him? Can he keep his mind off other, more enticing distractions? Will he get his chance to set off into the stars before a terrible war breaks out?

Call of Destiny

Being the first part of ONE SMALL STEP OUT OF THE GARDEN OF EDENBy Robert Wagoner

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2009 Robert Wagoner
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4401-4001-3

Chapter One

Senior Year

Smack!

The small diner was brimming with the typical Friday afternoon crowd of energetic teenagers looking to put the long week of school behind them. Contemporary music blared throughout the room, cowed only by the roar of young men and women engaging in various frivolities. Yet the unexpected cracking sound brought the bustling establishment to a complete standstill, and all eyes fixed themselves on the corner booth from where the noise had originated.

An irate, young female shot up from one side of the table and quickly gathered her things, while the male senior sitting on the opposite side-displaying a rather painful-looking handprint on the side of his face-watched in embarrassment as she fixed herself to leave.

"Drop dead, Mike!" she huff ed, looking him in the eye reproachfully.

"But Jennifer-"

Michael's pleadings came too late, for Jennifer stormed out of the diner. He sighed, relieved that he had accomplished his objective; his noticeable concern for the young woman's feelings was simply a courtesy. Nevertheless, he suffered under a round of ooohs and judging gazes by gawking onlookers, particularly from three all too familiar seniors watching from a nearby table.

"It didn't take her too long to come to her senses," the largest of the three fellows cynically exclaimed as the room returned to its normal chaos.

Michael feigned another courteous return expression, futilely attempting to hide his disdain for his classmate. "I'm okay with that, Fellinger." Hoping to avoid a confrontation, he stood up from the table and casually walked out of the diner.

The warm, afternoon sun accosted him from the side as he headed down the sidewalk toward where he would catch transportation home. However, the sound of the diner's door opening again broke the air, followed by footsteps ominously moving in his direction. Michael cringed, knowing the senior had waited for the opportunity all afternoon.

"Hey, Gillen!" an irritated Danny Fellinger called from behind him. "You know she's my cousin, right? You shouldn't treat her like that."

Michael, his face still throbbing from where Jennifer had slapped him, rolled his eyes and kept pace in the direction of his destination.

Much to his relief, Michael soon turned the corner, taking the opportunity to walk a little faster. The transport that would take him home lay directly ahead, though it was still too far away for a quick escape. And Danny Fellinger and company were rounding the corner too.

Continuing toward the transport, young Gillen could hear the trio quickly closing the gap. Just as his antagonists came within an arm's reach of him from behind, Michael felt one of them wrench the small book he was carrying from his back pocket. Indignant over the trespass, Michael stopped and turned around defiantly.

Fellinger, his cohorts standing supportively behind him and sneering, held the book in one hand and surveyed the cover. The thug, whose stature matched that of a sequoia, towered over Michael, casting an intimidating shadow over him. Despite being a little taller and more athletically endowed than most of his classmates, Michael was no match for the sizeable Danny Fellinger.

However, Michael remained undaunted. Fellinger's size, though very much a concern, was never the problem in all their confrontations over the years. No, it was always about the same old, tired subject. Michael loathed the thought of another altercation. However, he would have no choice in the matter, for Fellinger looked quite perturbed. Michael knew the senior was unsettled over being the victim of Michael's stellar performance on the physics test earlier that day. Breaking the grading curve had made Michael the target of the lesser inclined Fellinger. Though Michael was bound to pay for such an infraction, he resolved to remain calm.

"'Neil Armstrong: A Look at the Man Who Helped Shape the Twenty-Fifth Century," Fellinger cynically read aloud the cover. Then he tossed the book back at Michael. "Get your head out of the stars. The last thing this solar system needs is another Gillen making trouble."

"At least I'll have that option," Michael countered reproachfully, making a not-so-veiled reference to his antagonist's physics test score. However, he couldn't believe that he had let such a comment slip.

Fellinger's face became like flint and he leaned in toward Michael threateningly. Briefly looking at the fading, red handprint on the side of Michael's face, Fellinger pushed an index finger into his chest. "Your family's garbage, Gillen.... That's why your mom and dad are here on Earth. They're hiding out in the middle of nowhere because no other place in Terrae Solaris will have them, not after all the trouble Jonathan Gillen created. He was garbage, Gillen ... just like you are garbage. Isn't that what Gillen means?"

Michael fumed, keeping eye to eye with his nemesis. He could hear Fellinger's friends standing behind him, laughing at the remarks the senior had made. Common sense told Michael to let it go, to walk away. However, his anger boiled within him, bringing to mind all the other times Danny Fellinger had insulted his family-and all those others who had done the same thing over the years too. The conversation wasn't over either. No, Fellinger would continue his rant until he had accomplished his objective.

Michael knew that he would eventually haul off and punch the gargantuan.

Michael Gillen sat surrounded by the familiar wilderness valley that was his family homestead. From the clearing next to the lake, he could see his house-or at least what was visible of the underground structure-located at the base of the distant hillside on the same side of the water. Between the clearing and the home lay a thick canopy of trees that made the clearing his favorite sanctuary, though a small access path cut through the thicket.

The dour seventeen-year-old reclined against a large rock, facing the water and deep in thought. Occasionally bored and continually frustrated, he would sometimes skip a stone across the water, morbidly fascinated with watching it plunge to its demise-how fittingly ironic. However, those times were rare, for he mostly kept to himself.

To call him a boy would have been unfair, for his long, masculine frame demanded recognition. Yet to call him a man would have been presumptive. For in the deep pools of his blue eyes burned the brashness, high-spiritedness, vacuousness, and navet that is youth. No, the lad found himself precariously caught between worlds. To him, growing up had become a cruel rite of passage, and today was no exception. So overwhelmed by the tragic circumstances that had played out earlier with Danny Fellinger, Young Gillen had escaped to his favorite place of refuge.

Michael remained pensive, but mostly just pouting. With his head hanging low so that his long, brown hair draped conspicuously in front of his eyes, the teen nervously played with the torn fabric exposing his bloody knee. Mindlessly, he kept inserting a finger into the hole-burning pain abruptly shot through the leg upon accidental contact with the fresh wound. His other hand cathartically stroked the stubble covering his face, keeping well clear of the gash at the corner of his mouth and the badly...