Series: The Guardian of Earth, Book 3
Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
Release Date: Feb. 5, 2016
Genre: Science Fiction
Available Formats: eBook and Print
Digital: 9780996770613
Hardcover: 9780996770620

Guardian of Earth, Dr. Zeke Landry has even more reason to protect his planet now that his wife is carrying his child. Little did he know, the romantic evening they enjoyed at the beach watching meteor showers was the last peace on Earth.


Fish and wildlife vanish. Seas thicken with mud. The dolphins warn Zeke to stay away from the ocean. An environmental catastrophe of the highest order is in the making, and no one knows how to prevent it. Zeke seeks extra-planetary advice from his alien allies, but the news is not good. The threat is dire, and the clock is ticking. Unless a solution is found, the Earth will be transformed into an uninhabitable world. Will Zeke and his android sidekick find a remedy in time to save the day?

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© Copyright 2016 – Maggie Toussaint

Four hours later, with Jessie sound asleep in their bed and Zeke rested from a few hours of shut-eye, he jogged to the beach, shed his clothes, and waded into the midnight-black surf. He dove through the breakers, enjoying the cool wash of water against his heated skin. Several meteors streaked across the dark sky.

He opened his mind to telepathic communication, summoning the dolphins. A nudge to his side came almost immediately. Little Boz. And Nicola, Klickie, and Tunis. The dolphin pod dove and splashed Zeke for a moment, rejoicing in the contact, then Zeke settled into a back float, his hands on the heads of Nicola and Tunis.

His thoughts linked with theirs, but instead of vectoring out to connect to the Tamans as he’d come to expect, the dolphins commandeered the link.

The water, Nicola said. It’s bad.

Her mindlink words startled him. Bad? How?

She showed him a picture of sediment-filled water. The image looked like storm run-off water that was opaque.

I don’t understand, he shot back.

Dirty. The water feels wrong.

Something was wrong with the water? His interest heightened, and he ventured deeper into the mindlink. I will analyze the water. Anything else?

The ocean feels bad, she repeated.

Does it hurt? Does your skin burn? No burn. Hard to swim. Thicker.

The specific gravity of water didn’t change. But the dolphins were reporting a problem. I’ll look into the matter.

Boz butted into Zeke’s hand. I’m tired.

What did dolphins do when they tired?

How can I help? Zeke asked.

Fix the ocean, Boz said. You are the Waterman.

While Zeke’s scientific expertise was in hydrology, he had also studied oceanography while getting his doctorate. However, Boz’s new moniker pleased him. He’d never had a nickname before he became the Guardian of Earth. The Waterman.

He liked it. I’ll do what I can. Do you require medicine?

No! All the dolphins echoed in his head at once.

No medicine. No Browning Charles.

Dr. Charles had captured Boz once before in the name of science and nearly drowned him. Zeke wouldn’t hear of his dolphins being anyone’s research subjects ever again. There are other, nicer people than Browning Charles who can help dolphins.

The water, the dolphins reiterated. Fix the water, not the dolphins. Until then, we stay near freshwater sources where the water is better.

Message received, Zeke said.

The link quieted, so Zeke moved into the vacated space and quested out. His thoughts arrowed through the galaxy to Tween, the place where the spirits of his people resided. His late father entered the transmission first.

Son, everything all right?

Yes. The dolphins summoned me. They’re disturbed by the ocean. They say it’s too thick.

Odd. Anything unusual happening?

Yesterday Baggy said he couldn’t catch a bottom feeder to save his soul.

Was he serious, or just shooting the breeze?

Sure sounded serious to me. I’ve heard other rumblings about missing catfish and toadfish. But there have been no reported sightings of sharks or gators, which would have eaten them, and there hasn’t been a deluge of recreational fishermen in the area.

Perhaps it’s a normal population dip. Not like you to speculate. Have you studied the matter?

Zeke blushed. I’m learning to be a husband.

Aah, his dad replied. Say no more.

A deeper voice boomed through the link. Is there a problem with the ocean on Earth?

I’ll look into it, Zeke promised.

Anything else to report? Deep Voice asked in a harried tone.

Zeke’s kneejerk reaction to feeling like he might be wasting anyone’s time was to start spewing minutia. Let’s see. Thanks to global warming, the Earth’s getting hotter every year. Our economy always seems poised on the brink of collapse. International powers can’t agree on how to disperse the hoarded drinking water. And our planet is receiving a once-in-a-lifetime meteor storm. Big chunks of meteorite are whistling through our skies.

The link quieted from gentle murmurs at the other end and then without warning burst into a frenzied uproar. Zeke cringed as the shouting filled his head. In the din, he couldn’t hear his dad’s voice at all. He didn’t know how many Tamans listened to his transmissions, but at times like this the number seemed quite large.

Deep Voice quieted the noise. Tell us about the meteors. They’re calling it the Great Meteor Storm.

Unlike our routine meteors, this crop is from deep space. Astronomers have been aware of its approach for decades. Some of the material is entering our atmosphere now and putting on quite a flash-bang show. These meteors – they’re different? Only in point of origin. No one seems alarmed about them. We get tens of thousands of meteor strikes each year.

The noise on the link increased again. What? Zeke asked, impatient to learn what they knew. What do you suspect? Are we in danger?

His dad spoke above the roar. Easy, Son. As you say, space is full of debris. You plan to check the water and the fish?


Use stainless steel sampling containers. No glass. And weigh your containers before and after sampling. Check for rare trace minerals, along with your standard tests. What aren’t you telling me? No need to get alarmed. Meteors are commonplace. But worlds between the Taman home world and Earth experience unusual distress following a certain type of meteor.

Zeke felt the chill and the seriousness of the matter invade his thoughts. We just repelled an alien invasion not long ago. Can’t we catch a break?

Being Earth’s Guardian requires vigilance. Your job doesn’t have regular hours. You must be prepared to respond when threats arise.

Is this what it was like for you, Dad? Were you constantly being pulled into intergalactic skirmishes?

I had periods of busyness. Sometimes it seemed we careened from one disaster right into the next. Other times, I did a lot of fishing.

I had no idea.

I didn’t do it alone, Son. Remember that. Use your support system and the dolphins. We’re here, and you have a network of helpers through the Institute. And your mate will ease the way for you.

His mate… His wife. Something I should mention. Jessie’s pregnant with our son.

The link burst into cheers, claps, and whistles. Good job. Keep a close eye on her. Some Earth women have a difficult time in the first trimester with our progeny. Make sure she gets plenty of rest.

Why? In Zeke’s crash course on his alien heritage, he’d learned one of the benefits of being a Taman was having the unusual ability to impregnate a human. The two species were similar biologically, to a point. In a previous conversation, his late father had explained the sameness as related to the “Great Dispersion,” in which a master race seeded the universe.

Gestational differences. Jessie and the baby must be protected at all costs during this vulnerable period. What about your cousin? Angie?

She’s off doing something for Uncle John. I haven’t seen much of her lately.

Don’t worry. That will change soon. The link faded. As usual, Zeke resisted letting go until the last possible second. Questions pulsed through his mind about the unusual water sampling stipulations, about extra safety measures for his family, and about his cousin. One thing he knew about his ancestors. They would be great at writing books. They parsed out barely enough information to keep him coming back for more.


Series: The Guardian of Earth, Book 2
Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
Release Date: Sept. 22, 2015
Genre: Science Fiction
Available Formats: eBook and Print
Digital: 9780983361497
Hardcover: 978099677606

The Maleem are coming.

Brand new Guardian of Earth Dr. Zeke Landry is just learning the ropes when his extraterrestrial warning system sounds. Merciless invaders are on their way to 2065 Earth. With no tangible proof, Zeke is powerless to warn anyone until the space ships arrive. First Contact has finally happened, and the aliens are tall and green.

The Maleem say they come in peace and want to explore trade opportunities. World leaders salivate at the chance for interstellar markets. As the Maleem tour the planet, countries welcome them with open arms and try to curry favor.

Meanwhile, pop star Queen Bea and her sister are stranded in Japan, diverting Zeke and his android’s attention. Bea sings her pop hit “Little Green Men,” during a friend’s concert, and the Maleem show up for the performance. Afterward, the Maleem hand out jeweled necklaces to key leaders, enslaving them and beginning a reign of terror and annihilation.

When Zeke is enslaved by the Maleem, all looks bleak for humanity. Outgunned, outmaneuvered, and outfoxed, citizens of Earth are doomed, unless someone helps them. Can Zeke rally and save the world a second time?

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© Copyright 2014 – Maggie Toussaint

Shadows flickered in the darkness, black on black, Zeke’s mental gaze keenly attuned to the dark nuances. Frissons of dread peppered his thoughts, rattling his senses. He floated in the timeless void of space. Cold. Alone. Afraid.

Without warning, a line drive of thought energy socked him. He struggled to hold the link. The vermillion-tinged darkness reminded him of primordial ooze from which there was no escape. Was his planet destined to go the way of the dinosaurs?

Several voices spoke in uneasy unison, adding to Zeke’s disembodied sense.

We have not been successful in dealing with Maleem. They take. They do not negotiate. They do not compromise.

His spirits plummeted. There had to be a way. He couldn’t give up on his planet without a fight. Someone, somewhere must have beaten the Maleem before. Earth needed to build on that success.

He fired a query across the vacuum of space. Wait! What about those few stragglers on Drigil Eight? How did they survive?

The link hummed with energy. It buzzed bright in his head as if hundreds spoke at once. Zeke allowed himself to hope. All wasn’t lost. It couldn’t be. More than seven billion people lived on Earth. So many innocent lives at stake.

We have sent a query, young Zeke. We will advise you in due time.


Series: Guardian of Earth , Book 1
Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
Release Date: May 6, 2017
Genre: Science Fiction
Available Formats: eBook and Print
Digital: 978-0-996770682
Hardcover: 978-0-983361480

Time is running out . . . for Zeke and the world.

Though plague, locusts, and earthquakes riddle 2065 Earth, Dr. Zeke Landry focuses on the world’s vanishing water supply. When his uncle disappears, Zeke abandons his hydrology research to find Uncle John. His efforts land him in deep trouble. The Chameleons, a secret society, believe Zeke has the keystone, an object of great power. This group has already murdered in its quest to find the keystone, so if Zeke can’t produce it, his hours are numbered. Time’s running out for Zeke … and the world.

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© Copyright 2017 – Maggie Toussaint

Footsteps stopped nearby. A shadow fell across Zeke’s body. He turned to gawk at the gigolo robot.

It grinned at him. “Sir, I believe you’re expecting me.”

Zeke blinked, aware that every person on the platform was watching him converse with an oversized sex toy. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else. Move along.”

“No mistake, unless you’re not Dr. Zeke Landry, super brain and ultra cool guy?” Zeke ignored the flattery. “I ordered a Bob. Not a Gary. Never a Gary.”

The A.I. unit cocked its head to the side like an inquisitive parrot. Genetically altered human skin and hair covered the artificial life form’s inner machine, which were maintained at a precise ninety-eight point six degrees. “Sir, my programming—”

Zeke’s hand shot up to silence the bronzed Adonis. He was not amused. Leaning in, he read the name inscribed in gold on the mandatory identification collar. “Forman. While I’m sure your programming is extensive, I’m not looking for a hookup. My request was for a laboratory unit to assist in my hydrology research. Catch the next tube back to Hollywood.”

Forman’s blue eyes widened and his head bobbed back, a perfect mimic of human disbelief. “Sir, I can explain—”

“Not interested. Excuse me.” The hovercraft would dock any minute now, and Zeke’s com link wouldn’t work in transit to Tama Island. Turning his back on the robot, Zeke hailed Supply Central on his wrist com. After being routed through six automatic menus, he reached an interactive prompt. “This is Dr. Zeke Landry.” He sucked in a breath, and fury flowed out on the exhale. “You have a big problem. You shipped me the wrong unit.”

“Sorry for the error, sir,” the androgynous voice soothed. “Do you have your authorization number?”

“No, I do not have my authorization number. I’m standing on a pier notifying you of your screw-up. I need it corrected immediately.”

“One moment while I query requisitions.” The silky voice returned. “Sir, we were unable to fill your request, and due to your Level Five priority, shipped you an alternate unit. You are dissatisfied with the Forman?”

The leaden clouds offshore and the changing barometric pressure aggravated his headache. “You sent me a mechanized gigolo. I need a research assistant. Where’s the Bob robot I requested?”

“We show a two-month backlog on the Bobs. Rest assured we will fulfill your request when possible. Our inventory will replenish once the World Collective approves the Ginright circuitry modules. Unlike the defective Bobs, Forman has been extensively mapped and shows no killer tendencies.”

Did they think their standard reply would placate him? Zeke’s voice sharpened. “Two months? Hell, I waited a month for the boy toy you sent. I have critical deadlines to meet. Besides, this killer robot myth is a giant hoax.”

“Your request is in the system, Dr. Landry,” the voice soothed again. “In the interim, the Forman unit will assist you.” “Christ.”

He broke the com connection. Across the lush fields of cord grass, a gleaming white hovercraft approached the wharf. The ferry would dock soon. He needed time to assess the situation. He had none. His sponsors pushed hard for conclusive results. Even with his three-hour sleep pattern, he couldn’t finish the global hydrology computations before the International Water Summit.

His uncle had promised skilled help. And now this sex toy had been assigned to him. An unusual error for Uncle John. Zeke turned to study the robot. No way this pectoral wonder in a vivid pink shirt dotted with white palm trees knew a thing about science.

As Zeke watched, the unit gave two passing women the once over. An athletic male got the same treatment. He was so screwed. The publish or perish mentality ruled the research field. Once he missed his deadline, his sponsors would bail. Then what? Back to making his living as a fisherman in the dying sea?

He had a few minutes. Better make good use of them. He crossed to Forman. “Is light a particle or a wave?”

“Ah, good one, doc,” Forman said. “Start me off with an easy chicken or the egg question. As it happens, I know the answer to this. Both. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.”

“I don’t smoke. And neither should anyone. It’s bad for health and longevity. Not to mention illegal unless prescribed for medical reasons.”

“Right. Medical reasons.” Zeke ignored the flirty wink that came his way, intent on his line of questioning. “Do rapidly shifting tectonic plates cause stronger earthquakes?”

“Yes, they do, though it depends on the fault.”

Zeke felt a spark of hope. This robot’s looks weren’t his only asset. “What common contaminant in underground water poisoned Florida’s bay in the 1990s?”

“That would be phosphorus. Any more questions, Dr. Geek, or do you want us to continue working on our tans on this quaint wharf?”

“I don’t appreciate your sense of humor.” “That’s because you don’t have one.”

“So I’ve been told.” Zeke managed a wry smile. “What are you? You look like a Gary but you sound like a Bob.”

“I’m a prototype for robotic units. Every time there’s a demand for a new A.I., they muck with my programming.” Forman grinned. “Right now I’m in full nerd mode, but I can score us some action in a nanosecond. What do you think about the hottie blonde and the even hotter dark-skinned vixen with the beaded braids by the ticketing kiosk?”

Zeke’s gaze shot over to the women in native orange robes. His second cousin and her mainland friend with a shrill voice. “God, no.”

“Don’t like girls? Got it. What about those two deckhands over there? They look like a ton of fun.”

His throat tightened. “No action of any kind. I have work to do.” Forman blanched. “No wonder your sense of humor is gone. A guy needs action. Too much congestion down there rots your brain.”

“My brain is fine.” A facial muscle twitched, and he clamped his hand on top of it. “If I decide to accept your help, and that’s a big if, you have to tone it down several notches. We keep a low profile, understood?”

Forman leaned closer and spoke confidentially behind his hand. “So I’m in like Flynn?”

Zeke looked away. An ocean breeze swept across the ferry landing. The warm, salt air bathed him with a sense of the inevitable, much like the landward march of seawater. With every inch the sea took, the water came closer to human structures and drowned the salt marsh that fed the bottom of the food chain.

The island hovercraft docked, and two dozen travelers spilled onto the platform. About half of them wore the traditional orange garb of island folk. Strangely, many faces were unfamiliar to him. He had to make a decision about the robot. If he refused the A.I., he’d be back where he started, doing the work of three men. That wouldn’t get the job done in time. He needed help.

With a sigh, he resigned himself to the inevitable. “We’ll try this for a few days,” he said. “Nothing permanent, mind you. This is a trial basis.”

“Cool.” Forman puffed out his chest. “I’ve never been on an island before.”

“We’ll be working around the clock. This is no R&R gig.”

“Dr. Z, you said gig! There’s some fun in you after all.”

Zeke sighed. “What are your recharge requirements?”

“I’m functional around the clock, but a daily one-hour rest cycle is optimal for my operating system.” “Got it. Let’s go.”

“Wait. What about my bags?”

“Bags? You’re an A.I. unit for Pete’s sake. You have luggage?”

Forman pointed to the tower of brightly colored suitcases stacked by the loading dock. “Wardrobe is essential, and I knew there were no clothing outlets on the island.”

“True. But you won’t need more than a change of clothes, if that.”

Forman drew himself up to his full height, two inches taller than Zeke. “My bags travel with me, or I don’t go.”

Zeke swore under his breath. He flashed back to an argument he’d overheard between his parents many years ago regarding his accelerated education. After days of arguing, his father had allowed tutors for Zeke in their island home. He’d said he’d it was important to know which battles to fight.

Zeke applied that lesson to the A.I.’s luggage. “Knock yourself out.”

Forman beamed and hugged Zeke. “I knew you’d come around. We’ll be a great team.”

Zeke quickly disentangled himself, hearing the chortles from others on the platform. “No hugging.”

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