Not Fade Away: Interstellar Rescue Series Book 4

by Donna S. Frelick

  Books by Donna S. Frelick

  The Interstellar Rescue Series:

  Unchained Memory

  Trouble in Mind

  Fools Rush In

  Not Fade Away

  Praise for Donna S. Frelick’s

  Interstellar Rescue Series:

  Book 1, Unchained Memory

  I'm telling you this book had everything in it. It was so well written I was not able to put down at all. I definitely recommend this book!!! Freakin love it. Five out of Five Stars—Book Fanatic

  Anyone who knows me knows I like some racy space adventure. What you might not know is that I also like the more terrestrial based stories—if they are told really, really well. Unchained Memory by Donna Frelick leaps right over that bar. . . I heartily recommend Unchained Memory. It is definitely going on my electronic keeper shelf. —Charlee Alden, Smart Girls Love SciFi

  --a perfect blend of contemporary romance, suspense, and mystery with enough of the unexplained to call it Sci Fi. The romance is intense and the action is very edge-of-your seat! —Ramblings From this Chic.

  Between the heroine’s gripping mystery and Frelick’s silken prose, Unchained Memory was a book I could not put down. And did I mention heat? A sci-fi romance must-read!”—Sharon Lynn Fisher, Author, Ghost Planet, The Ophelia Prophecy, Echo 8, Before She Wakes

  Part political thriller, part sci-fi, part romance, Unchained Memory is an exciting read full of unexpected twists and turns highlighted by Donna Frelick’s excellent prose. –Linnea Sinclair, Author, The Dock Five Series

  Book 2, Trouble in Mind

  . . . skillfully blends alien abduction conspiracies, political intrigue, space battles and epic romance into a psychic police procedural that also packs an emotional punch. –Publishers Weekly

  . . . a gripping story packed with plenty of action, suspense and science-fiction-style creativity. Four stars. –RT Book Reviews

  If you are a fan of Star Trek, Firefly, The X-Files, then you will love the world that Ms. Frelick has created, and, of course, want more of it, too! –NerdGirlOfficial

  . . . another amazing tale of suspense, adventure, intrigue, and sci-fi/other worldly beings . . . the intense attraction between Lana and Gabriel is off the charts HOT!! Five Stars—Kim at Crystal’s Many Reviewers

  Book 3, Fools Rush In

  The third outing in Frelick’s Interstellar Rescue Series is a rip-roaring space opera set in a universe not so far, far away. With the action moving off Earth and onto a starship that is clearly influenced by favorite sci-fi series, Frelick has crafted characters and settings that combine outer space adventure with romance, hot sex and espionage. You’ll be rooting for these characters long after the story ends! Four stars—RT Book Reviews

  Rayna . . . is a badass, strong, feisty heroine who doesn’t let anyone tell her that she can’t do something. Sam . . . never lets anything get to him. Not even the sexy Rayna. Seeing their history and back story really helped me better understand the dynamic of their connection and how they fit together so well. While I loved the first two books, I absolutely LOVED this one! I think it is my favorite of all! –Kim at Crystal’s Many Reviewers

  Intense and highly suspenseful! . . . dry humor, [a]dash of romance and adventure, I couldn’t resist it. If you’ve enjoyed the series or you’re looking for a good sci fi read, I highly recommend you start this one ASAP! –Mom With a Reading Problem

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Donna S. Frelick

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address INK’d Press at inkdpress@gmail.com.

  First INK’d Press edition.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-7320190-0-3

  ISBN-10: 1-7320190-0-2

  NOT FADE AWAY

  By

  Donna S. Frelick

  “Old soldiers never die. They just fade away.”

  --General Douglas MacArthur

  “A love for real, not fade away.”

  --Buddy Holly

  PROLOGUE

  Rafe Gordon looked out over the assembly hall full of dress uniforms and sparkling ball gowns and saw a terrain as unknown and dangerous as any alien planet. He had been a soldier all his life, fighting the Gray alien slavers since he was old enough to hold a laze rifle, but this gathering of eagles to honor one of their own was not his kind of battlefield. Though he was dressed in as many layers as all the others, he felt naked, with no weapons in his arsenal to counter the threats in this crowd.

  He jumped when he felt a hand clap him on the back. “Relax, son, not a damn Gray in sight. Nobody’s gonna shoot you.” Confederated Systems Fleet Admiral James Sheffield was tonight’s honoree, a revered officer retiring after having served with distinction for many years. But to Rafe, he was just “Shef,” a man he’d known all his life, a man his father had called friend until—well, until his father had forgotten what the word meant.

  “I almost wish they would shoot me, Admiral,” Rafe answered. He tugged at his collar. “These fancy clothes are choking me to death.”

  The Admiral shrugged; he looked like he’d been born wearing his ConSys uniform, the medals on his broad chest no more bother than feathers on a bird. “Yeah, well, the price of doing business. I’m glad you’re here. I don’t get to retire every day.” He considered Rafe for a quiet moment. “Sorry your father couldn’t make it. He’s on Terrene?”

  Rafe had to breathe past the unwanted emotion squeezing his chest. “He, uh, doesn’t adjust to changes in his routine very well these days.” To understate it by a light year. “I left him at the Rescue rehab center where we’ve been staying for the last half-circuit.”

  Shef frowned. “That godawful place?”

  Guilt stabbed deep. The place was built for the wounded warriors of their organization, and it was bleak as hell, but what could he do? Taking care of an old man with dementia in a wheelchair was a little beyond his skill set. No. It was worse than that. He had no idea what he was doing.

  But the Admiral was waiting for an answer. “It’s temporary until I can find a place.” Rafe shook his head, frustrated. “Who knows, maybe I’ll do what he keeps asking me to do and take him home.” Though “asking” wasn’t the word for the demands his father made—shouting, raving, the waking dreams making his life hell and only one thing would calm him down.

  “Home?” Shef cocked his head. “Home where?”

  “Earth.” Rafe fought to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Crazy old man hasn’t set foot on the planet since he was Taken by the Grays over sixty circuits ago, and he wants to go back to Earth.” He didn’t like to argue with the Old Man, but patience had never been his strong suit.

  Shef’s mouth lifted in what might have been a smile. “Funny, isn’t it? Del can barely remember what day it is, but he remembers where he came from. It’s been so long since the damn Grays took me, I’ve forgotten all of that.” He put a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “This shit with your father is no smooth ride, son. I know you’re doing the best you can. Del’s lucky to have you.”

  Rafe met the Admiral’s gaze and his throat clenched, stealing his words. He could only nod his thanks, feeling like the gangly adolescent he’d been when Shef and Del had been in their prime, the daring ConSys starship captain and the battle-hardened field agent of the Interstellar Council for Abolition and Rescue. Hi
s father and the Admiral had started out in a slave labor camp together and had seen each other through all of life’s stages since then—careers, marriages, children, promotions to the Fleet Admiralty and to Rescue’s Chief of Field Operations. Eventually Del’s injury and mental decline. Now Rafe couldn’t help feeling their long road together was almost at an end.

  While they’d been talking the room had grown louder and even more crowded. Rafe could see a harried-looking Fleet lieutenant trying to make his way to them through a maze of gossiping planetary delegates.

  Rafe indicated the oncoming messenger. “I think they’re looking for you, Admiral.”

  Shef nodded. “Yeah. Time for the speeches.” He might have said more, but at that moment a man wearing a breathing mask that obscured half his face stumbled into him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  The man grabbed Shef’s hand and shook it vigorously. “A thousand apologies, sir!” A translator distorted his voice. “I am clumsy!” Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  “What the . . .” All the color had bleached from Shef’s face, his eyes blanking with shock. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, his head smacking the hard surface with a crack.

  People drew back with little cries of shock, as if Shef’s falling body had been a rock in a pond, sending out ripples of dismay. Rafe fell to his knees beside him, his heart pounding, his hands fumbling at the fastenings of the stiff dress uniform.

  “Shef! Look at me!” Gods, what is it? What’s wrong with him? Rafe searched the gawking crowd around him. “We need a medic! Now!” He didn’t wait to see if anyone moved. He looked back at Shef. The Admiral was still breathing, but his breath sounded more like a gargle.

  Shef grabbed his arm. “P-poison. Hand’s on fire.”

  “Hands?” He pulled back and reached for Shef’s hand, but the man shook his head violently.

  “No! Contact—the bastard who f-fucking . . . ah, shit!”

  But Rafe got it. He could see Shef’s swollen right hand. The man who’d stumbled into him, then pumped his hand to deliver a contact poison. An assassin. They needed to find him!

  He started up, trying desperately to see through the crowd—the medic, some sign of the assassin, something. “Rafe!” Shef was staring at him, his breath heaving in his chest.

  He dropped back down again. “I’m here, Shef. I’m here.”

  “Only the Grays would do this,” Shef said, his voice like gravel now.

  “The Minertsans? They wouldn’t dare,” Rafe said, scanning the crowd as if the little alien slime lizards might actually be in sight. “In public like this?”

  “Your father and I, we . . . so long ago.” The Admiral’s face had turned gray, his eyes bloodshot. “It’s not over. Del . . . he’s not safe. They’ll be coming for him.”

  The medic pushed through at last, shoving Rafe aside. The security team was right behind the doctor, but Rafe knew both would be too late. Shef was beyond saving. And the assassin who’d killed him was long gone, leaving behind only a mystery and a threat to strike even closer to Rafe’s heart next time.

  CHAPTER ONE

  From the far edge of the solar system, the sun that made life possible on Earth looked like the unremarkable star that it was. Sol burned cold and impossibly distant, a mere pinprick of light. The blue planet that depended on its warmth was visible only through the ship’s sensors.

  Still, it was home. Rafe should have felt some sense of that notion, even if he’d never been this close to Earth. He was human, after all. The Old Man had agitated for this homecoming for so long, you’d have thought some of that longing would have rubbed off on his son. All Rafe felt was the same gut-roiling apprehension that gripped him every time he went dirtside. To him, Earth was just a planet like any other.

  Sam Murphy, captain of the ship that had brought them this far, rose from the conn in the center of the bridge and joined him at the observation station. “Should make Earth orbit in about four hours.” The captain studied him a moment. “The Chief all set?”

  The “Chief” was dozing in his cabin, unaware of their destination, of the purpose of their journey, or even of the time of day. “As ready as he’ll ever be.” Rafe rubbed at the familiar tightness in his chest.

  Murphy lifted an eyebrow.

  Rafe sighed. “It’s better if I don’t tell him much.” It was better if he didn’t tell the Old Man anything. His father was like a two-year-old; if you said you were going somewhere, it had better be now. He couldn’t anticipate the future, just like he couldn’t remember the past.

  “So, Del Gordon doesn’t know he’s coming home,” Murphy said. “After all these years.”

  “Ask me in an hour.” Rafe couldn’t keep the weariness out of his voice. “He knew at dinner last night, but by breakfast he’d forgotten again.”

  “And yet this was his plan, at least in part. According to my orders from Rescue.” Murphy waited, his expression open, neutral.

  Rafe shrugged. “Last wishes, put in place years ago, when he was still actively fighting in the field. When he started up about it again, I dismissed it at first, but—”A wave of grief hit him as he thought of all that had transpired in the days since the disastrous night of Shef’s assassination: the meetings, the elimination of options, his orders. I’m so damn tired. “Admiral Sheffield’s death made it imperative.”

  Murphy nodded, his expression somber. “Your father and the Admiral must have been very close.”

  “Shef was in a Gray labor camp with him,” Rafe said. “They escaped together. They stuck together.” Through every obstacle the universe threw at them, right up until the end.

  Sam nodded. “The loss must have been difficult for your father.”

  Rafe exhaled, but said nothing. How could he explain? Del’s memories were being erased as thoroughly as if he’d encountered the aliens’ mindwipe again. The process was just slower.

  The captain considered him. “You haven’t told him about the Admiral’s death.”

  “No point.” Rafe stared at the dot of light on the viewscreen and imagined the ball of dirt that circled it. Soon enough there would be more to occupy the Old Man’s disordered thinking than why his good friend Shef didn’t come around anymore.

  As the Shadowhawk swung into Earth orbit, Rafe left the bridge for a briefing from the advance team that had prepared his way dirtside. He wasn’t looking forward to it. For one thing, he hated planting his butt in a chair while some stick-boy analyst threw data at him. And for another, the community that had been chosen for him on the planet was going to be the focus of his life from now on. There would be no more missions to blow up Gray factories or free mindwiped slaves. If Rescue thought they were going to micromanage him now . . .

  He drew to a halt outside the tiny cabin that served as Captain Murphy’s command room, his stomach dropping into his boots as he saw who was waiting for him. Shit. Rayna Carver is doing the debrief?

  Of course, the agent known throughout Rescue for making soychop of Ninoctin prison guards and newbie trainees alike was married to the captain of the Shadowhawk. In fact, she was the reason Sam Murphy had given up a pirate’s life and become a runner for Rescue not long ago. Or so Rafe had heard.

  But Rafe had only seen the star-storming legend once, from a distance, on the all-hands mission to Del Origa. She’d kicked plenty of butt then, even though she was no bigger than a targa cub, and it had earned her a promotion to Chief of Field Operations. She hadn’t been present at any of the discussions at Rescue HQ, the heated arguments with his boss—and hers—that had determined Rafe’s fate. He had a sinking feeling maybe that was because she had headed up the all-important advance team on Earth.

  “I’m Chief Murphy,” she said, taking his hand in a strong grip. “You can call me Rayna.” Warm energy lit her dark eyes, and her grin could have powered the ship. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  The short answer was no, but he knew better than to say so. “Rafe Gordon. Depends. Where t
he hell are you sending me?”

  Her grin got even wider. “Well, hon, it shore ain’t like anyplace you ever been before.” Her voice had gone all twangy and strange, as though she’d forced all the words through her sinuses, stretched out the vowels and slurred the endings.

  Rafe stared at her. Captain Murphy, installed behind his desk, was no help. He just laughed.

  Rayna continued to smile her enigmatic smile as she led the way into the cabin and they found their seats. Without introduction she waved a hand at the holoprojector. “Masey, North Carolina, population 1223 souls. A small town in the mountains of the western part of a state in the eastern central United States of America, North American continent, Earth.”

  In the tiny space between Captain Murphy’s desk and the benches where they were seated, images formed of said continent, nation, state, region and town. Rayna droned on about the town’s proximity to National Forest land, rivers and other landmarks, its history and economy and so on, while Rafe gazed at the alien landscape. So many trees! Mountains rolling like waves on the Sea of IzRa, with no cities to break their progress. The little town, an island in that vast ocean of green, its all-human inhabitants huddled together in modest homes and joined with the rest of the world by the thinnest of threads.

  Rafe had grown up on Terrene, in a dense urban warren of sentient life—human and nonhuman, former slaves and traders and Rescue agents and all sorts of others. As he’d gone out in the galaxy he’d seen any number of worlds, but few as lush—or as isolated—as this one. Earth still slumbered in her ignorance of the rest of the galaxy, despite the ongoing tragedy of the alien Grays and their abductions.

  Slaves taken in the night. Rescue trying desperately to get them back. A battle raging across the stars—and this little hamlet that would be his home completely unaware of it.