A DARK AGE IN THE FAR FUTURE
The Pandoran Age Chronicles is Dante D’Anthony’s expansive science-fiction saga—an interstellar tapestry of royal houses, restless frontiers, and the remnants of ancient alien civilizations. Set in a galaxy shaped by forgotten technologies and fragile empires, the series follows those who stand between order and chaos: diplomats, rebels, soldiers, and seekers. At its heart, it explores evolution—cybernetic, political, and spiritual—and the burden of power in a civilization balanced on the edge of transformation. Both sweeping adventure and philosophical inquiry, the Chronicles ask what it means to shape history in a universe vast enough to swallow empires.
PRELUDE TO EMPIRE: ANCIENT ALIEN TECHNOLOGY
Royal Historian Clairissa Maggio of the Pleiades narrates the Chronicles. As fragments of ancient alien technology lay buried across the stars—enigmatic relics capable of reshaping biology, matter, and thought itself. When Lourdes Cassandra unearthed and harnessed these artifacts, she became the catalyst for a new order: the Cyborgian Central Command economies. By fusing human ambition with machine intelligence and alien design, she forged a system where commerce, governance, and survival all hinged on the integration of flesh and circuitry. What began as scattered discoveries soon evolved into a vast network of power, discipline, and control—an empire of Cyborgian ascendancy that would forever alter the balance of civilization.
CLAIRISSA MAGGIO
Royal Historian, Planet Caldris, Pleiades Cluster. Descended from the original terraformers of the planet, she is heir to many generations of good government. As she chronicles the ravaging of galactic civilizations, she becomes ominously aware the worst is yet to come.
LOURDES CHARLOTTE CASSANDRA
The most brilliant neurologist on planet Deneb IV. Her innocent life in science draws her into a turn in history that she never anticipated.
DR. SCALOTTA
After heroic service in the Mercury Wars, he has spent decades searching for a way to cheat death. The loss of his fellow soldiers in the war drove him, but it was the discovery of an ancient alien technology that provided the key. But is this technology a blessing, or is he summoning the demon?
EMPIRE VS THE FRONTIER COLONIES: THE ARCTURIAN WAR
In the wake of her rise to power, Lourdes Cassandra’s vision of order collides with the fierce independence of the Arcturian Free Colonies. What begins as a struggle over gateways and trade routes escalates into one of the darkest chapters of galactic history: the Arcturian War. In Flight 1079 to New Procyon and La Sirena, readers glimpse this clash through the eyes of those caught between empires—ordinary travelers, soldiers, and dreamers whose destinies are bound to the tides of war.
DAVID OMM
DENEB IV. Before the war, David stood as a symbol of reason and diplomacy in an age of mounting tensions. As an ambassador, he projected calm authority—measured in word, deliberate in gesture, and unwavering in his pursuit of dialogue over violence. Known for his sharp intellect and genuine empathy, he had a gift for bridging divides between rival powers, his voice carrying the weight of both pragmatism and hope. In the embassy halls, he embodied stability and trust, a man who believed that civilizations could choose cooperation over conquest. Yet beneath his dignified poise lay the quiet awareness that storms were gathering—storms diplomacy alone might not contain.
Then there is the matter of his love, Lisa Sulla
LISA SULLA
Lisa Sulla was one of the most enigmatic figures of the Arcturian Free Colonies—an intelligence operative whose life was defined by secrets, shifting loyalties, and the cold discipline of espionage. Trained to blend into the courts of diplomacy and extract truths others dared not whisper, she was a master of poise and deception. Yet in the orbit of Ambassador David Omm, her life took an unexpected turn. What began as calculated observation transformed into genuine affection, and for the first time, her carefully forged mask faltered. Lisa’s brilliance lay in her ability to read empires like an open book, but with David, she discovered the peril and promise of being read in return. Torn between duty to the Arcturian cause and the unbidden pull of love, she became both a witness and a participant in the fragile hope that diplomacy might triumph over bloodshed—knowing full well that her own heart was now the most dangerous secret of all.
DYLAN PHALEN
Dylan Phalen, boards Flight 1079 to New Procyon at New Galen colonies. is introduced A a restless, sharp-eyed young man whose life hovers on the edge between ordinary student and reluctant participant in history. A space engineering student returning to New Procyon University after a break, Dylan embodies the optimism and defiance of his Arcturian generation—unimpressed by the Cyborgian Central Command’s tight grip on trade and freedom and deeply curious about the frontier’s possibilities. On the surface, he’s just another passenger boarding a routine flight out of New Galen. But his journey places him at the threshold of an era-defining conflict, where ordinary lives are pulled into the machinery of empire and rebellion.
ZOLA MOSEY
Tangeonprioc, Central Galactic Region
Fischer Shea and Elias Tristan Looked out from the corner offices of level 15 on the domes of Las Olas gardens, Tangeonprioc with somewhat disbelieving amazement at what they had accomplished here in the last several years. It had grown to several hundred miles of interconnected environment domes-each one a small city in itself-swarming with settlers, farmers, traders and prospectors.
The trade in Predecessor Alien Artifacts was driven by corporations and governments across the spread of Human civilization. A piece of garbage tossed thoughtlessly away sixty-five million years ago and left in the right crater shadow or sand drift contained information that was advancing Human technology with ridiculous jumps.
All of those prospectors needed a base to set out. The Core was hard on organic life with radiation and stellar forces at a scale uncommon in the rest of the galaxy. Navigating those dangerous forces one needed knowledge on continually changing space weather. One needed equipment refurbishing regularly, food, sex, and all the complex accouterments of Human life: Diversions.
Welcome to the boom-town.
Fischer was a handsome man. Elias figured he had cosmetic surgery and expensive genetic mods. No one really knew, but he put spells on women and always seemed to be involved with another one. Elias was a giant, bulky, demolition tank of a man and was Gay. He didn’t have much to do with women but frequented a corner of one of the domes called “The Grove” where his off hours were spent with a group of gay ex-soldiers; snipers and starship gunners from the Mercury Royal Police.
Elias was one of the few people Fischer trusted, and his somewhat unusual collection of gay soldiers and adventure stories as Mercury had gone about policing the galaxy’s settlements only added another layer of colorful characters to Tangeonprioc’s endless carnival of Human extravagance.
Bruno Fowler was a client who wanted to build a two hundred story tower over his strip-club dome. He sat fuming and his cologne was stinking up Fischer’s office. For a man who had a couple of hundred sexbots working around the clock, he was a tiny little troll of thing, and Elias assumed he had muscle handle all the unruly prospectors.
“Mother says I’ve purchased the best dome and should be able to build whatever I want in it.”
He lived with his mother.
Elias’s hypercast started blinking. Saved by the bell. “Excuse me guys, I gotta take this- “
Fischer scowled and Bruno looked askance, his nose perceptibly rising.
It was Zola Mosey.
“Tristan, you fat fuck, how the hell are you!?”
“Doing good, Zola. Real estate development at the Core. Where are you?” They had fought together with the Granger Rangers at Mercury Far-Side station. Zola had a lot of sack and never backed down, even when he should.
“I’m doing a run for a research foundation. Babysitting some smoking hot Science babe. I need a couple back-up ships. You got any guys? You and all them pretty boys from Elite Units-they were good. I know you’re all wasting time out there, so don’t tell me you don’t have anyone.”
“Diplomacy, ever your strong point. Yeah, I got guys. But I’ll handle this at home. Look me up at the Core Winds Tavern, it’s a skin parlor we’re doing some development proposals for and you and your crew can get some comps. Buzz me when you fly in and don’t be talking down to my gunners or you might get some steel in your ship you don’t want.”
“Don’t be a putz.”
Fischer was glad when Elias returned. “What’s up, Buck?”
“Friends coming into town-big party. At your place, Bruno. We’re going to pack the place tonight!”
Bruno smiled. Oh good.
The meetings went down with the usual fanfare of sexbots, second rate booze, and party favors, and Zola had his back up ships. The Mel’s Monkey and the Serpentine, with Captain Mel “No-Deal” DePaulo and Captain Roland Dansky. They all set out of Tangeonprioc in the morning with hangovers and didn’t encounter any trouble for several weeks on a coded course that made numerous dodges.
Mel noted the course, no matter how twisted, was making its way closer and closer to one of the larger black holes at the very center of the galaxy. He hypercasted over to Zola, “I want more money. You didn’t say anything about riding up on a black hole.”
Zola piped back, “I thought you Mercury guys were tough? Did I need to tell you there would be searing radiation flares and armed hostiles too? You’re a fucking mercenary, not a museum docent. Act like one!”
“I want a bonus for getting this close to that THING.”
“What do you want?”
“I want ten percent for me, and the same for Roland.”
“Done. Now, can we get on with the mission?”
“Deal. Always happy to do business.”
No-Deal and Roland earned their money shortly thereafter. The tail Mosey had been harping MUST be there, finally was there and they had a dozen nasty little Blade ships too. But No-Deal and Roland were Mercurian veterans, and even Mosey was impressed with speed, accuracy, and relentless prosecution of death without prejudice or hesitation. When it was all over, the marauding outlaws were masses of human gore spread out for several hundred clicks of wreckage. Tutu insisted recon be done, and whatever hard drives and Intel could be gathered on who the hell they were, were being gathered.
When No-Deal found out their objective was an intact alien Predecessor base, the shit hit the fan and he raised holy hell until he got his pay doubled. They were looking at the wealth and technology that a galactic Empire could be built from. Whoever could have this ruled Humankind. And most certainly, would change mankind. Lourdes was here for technologies that could be genuine AI-self-aware and linking with human consciousness.
Eternal life.
Roland was tall and built like a hero from a virtual reality entertainment show, but moving through the doorways of the alien base, he looked like a child.
“What the hell were these things?” he muttered.
“They were big.”
“And smart.” Roland picked up a gleaming streamlined tool full of jewels.”
“Don’t touch that” one of the scientists grabbed it away from him, “Are you fucking stupid?”
Roland pointed a disruptor pistol at him casually, “Yeah, but I’m armed. Are you?”
The scientist held up the alien artifact, “Maybe!”
Roland smirked, and boomed with laughter, “Good answer, little man!”
