Baby, It’s Cold in Space:
Eight Science Fiction Romances
Copyright © 2016 by Margo Bond Collins
All individual titles copyrighted by the individual authors.
Published 2016 by Bathory Gate Press
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.
Published by Bathory Gate Press
Granbury TX
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Angelo 13
Rosalie Redd
Star Gazers
Diana Rivis
Still Life
Jayne Fury
Saturday Night in Devils Holler
Donna S. Frelick
The Solar Express
Erin Hayes
Light Up the Dark: A StarDaemon Novella
Selene Grace Silver
The Climate of Love
Blaire Edens
I'll Be on New London for Christmas
Margo Bond Collins
***
Angelo 13
Rosalie Redd
Chapter One
ANGELO THIRTEEN ROLLED THE STONE IN HIS PALM, but its smooth, cool surface couldn’t calm his racing heart. He was almost to Iridis, almost…free. A sense of giddiness lightened his chest as he studied his precious piece. Silver lines in the stone’s crevasses refracted the spaceship’s artificial light, sending a cascade of brilliant radiance against the ship’s console. With a fevered intensity, he clasped his fingers around his lucky rock—the one that helped him escape Earth’s oppressive, tyrannical rule.
A soft, electronic ping returned his attention back to his pilot duties. He glanced at the vid-monitor. The screen displayed a red world, swirling dust storms raging its surface. My new home. Angelo Thirteen’s breath caught in his throat, and he kissed the rock before placing his prize on the ship’s console.
“Arriving within Iridis’s orbit in eighteen minutes, thirty seconds.” Mortimer’s deep voice resonated through the cockpit. The ship’s computer was as much a part of the crew as the terraformers in the central bay.
“Setting coordinates for a rendezvous with the base colony now.” Chad Seven, the ship’s co-pilot, swiped his fingers across the screen, his deep blue eyes void of emotion.
Angelo Thirteen’s pulse pounded in his ears. Didn’t his co-pilot have any sense of wonder? No. That was a forbidden emotion.
In 2364, hatred, bitterness, and prejudice started the Last War, culminating in a biological attack that left few survivors on Earth. Out of the aftermath, the remaining leaders joined forces and created The Accord which laid down several laws, including the suppression of all emotions. To replenish the diminished population, the members of The Accord cloned themselves, each identical replica receiving a successive number. Angelo Thirteen touched the tattoo on his cheek, the one just under his eye—13. The raised numbers, rough against his skin, forever marked him. He ground his teeth.
At age twenty-eight, he was one in a long line of Angelo clones bearing the same dark brown hair, brown eyes, and consistent five-o’clock-shadow stubble. Like those before him, he was conditioned not to feel, not to express emotions. Although he didn’t know what made him different, he longed to be an individual.
Angelo Thirteen leaned back in his chair. Cold, bitter steel from the chair’s neck rest grazed against his skin. Goosebumps formed along his nape. He wiped his fingers over the lumps and flicked a small switch, opening a ship-wide channel. “Everyone, this is your pilot Angelo Thirteen. We are approaching Iridis’s orbit. Prepare to disembark in thirty minutes.”
As pilot of Wanderer, his responsibility was to transport eight terraformers, water creation equipment, food and medical supplies to Iridis. Fortunately, Iridis offered Angelo Thirteen an opportunity. Not only had he collected the unusual stone from Chad Seven in a poker match, he’d also won his co-pilot’s lottery ticket—the one for the job of maintenance technician on the base. Good thing Angelo Thirteen met the requirements—three years in the shipyards and two years in The Bungalow, the electronics academy. But…there was a catch. If Angelo Thirteen didn’t perform to standards, he’d be shipped back to Earth and its restrictive, emotionless rules. A chill ran over his arms.
He shut off the link, picked the stone off the console and glanced at his co-pilot.
Chad Seven raised his chin. “I’d like the chance to win back my stone.”
Angelo Thirteen repressed a smile. “I rather like the bauble. Which planet did you say it came from again?”
“Transinia, in the Cassiopeia constellation. I won it in a poker game from a Trolog. He wasn’t happy to lose.”
“I’ll bet. Perhaps you’ll get your chance later, but for now, I’m keeping it.” Angelo Thirteen raised the stone to the light, entranced as the fine flecks of silver shimmered. With a quick move, he pocketed his treasure and pointed at the bags of coffee under Chad Seven’s seat. “Besides, you still owe me from the last game. If I liked coffee, I’d take some of that in payment.”
“Fat chance. This is the best coffee in the galaxy. By the way, I had to relieve my pent-up frustration in one of the copulation clubs because I lost to you.” Chad Seven’s eyes darkened. His lip curled at the corner for a brief moment before his face resumed his stoic pose. “At least they know me well there.”
Angelo Thirteen swallowed through his tight throat. Everyone was required to attend on a regular basis as the government feared without the sexual outlet overwhelming emotions could lead to another war. At least sexually transmitted diseases and pregnancy were no longer an issue due to medical advances and egg harvesting. The copulation clubs were a means to an end, but he longed for something more…something special, intimate, and enduring.
Chad Seven coughed. “When was the last time you went to one?”
He tensed, the muscles in his shoulders clenching beneath his shirt. He forced a shrug. “A few months ago. I go once in a while.” Only to avoid hitting the government’s radar for non-attendance.
“Come with me next time. I’ll introduce you to some of the regulars.” Chad Seven’s lip twitched ever so slightly.
“Naw, man. I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.” Chad Seven gripped his hand around his liquid container. The smooth, semi-sheer material expanded, molding to his palm. “Before we transport the passengers and materials to the surface, I’m going to refill my coffee cup. I’d ask if you want any, but…”
Angelo Thirteen shook his head. “Just be back in time. We enter Iridis’s orbit in ten minutes. I don’t want to do this on my own.”
Wanderer was built as several detachable pods all linked together, each one a separate room. Fortunately, the galley was in the adjacent pod.
Chad Seven stood, placed his hands on the small of his back, and stretched. Joints popped loud in the enclosed space. He gave a quick nod, ran his hand through his short blond hair, and exited through the small hatch. His steps echoed down the hall. As with all the rooms in Wanderer, the imitation gravity field kept them grounded.
Alone for the moment,
he glanced at Iridis in the vid-monitor. His heart expanded. How he longed to be free, allowed to settle on this new planet, one without Earth’s oppressive rules. Here, the residents had established their own government, The Coalition. Emotions were not only allowed, but welcomed. A sense of giddiness overwhelmed him. He couldn’t wait to land.
Angelo Thirteen tapped his finger against his armrest and peered at the digital display. Five minutes had passed since his co-pilot left to refill his coffee cup.
C’mon, Chad Seven, where are you? A sense of unease rippled over his shoulders.
Mortimer’s deep voice broke through the silence. “Entering Iridis’s atmosphere. Unidentified object in flight path. Suggest evasive—”
A firm shudder vibrated through Wanderer.
The ship lurched, rolling into a forty-five degree angle.
Angelo Thirteen careened from his chair and skidded across the cold metal floor. His shoulder crashed into the bulkhead. Pain radiated down his arm.
Flashing lights lit up the console.
The shrill peal of an alarm filled the air.
Down the hall, screams echoed from the passengers.
Angelo Thirteen’s heart raced. “Mortimer, assessment.”
“Something hit the ship. Structural damage in pod nine.”
Pushing against the metal wall, he struggled to stand. A quick glance at the vid-monitor displayed a large piece of metal floating past Wanderer, remnants of some other ship’s broken hull. Space garbage. His good luck had run out.
His stomach clenched. “Mortimer, can you fix it?”
“Negative. Full containment breach in thirty seconds.”
A ball of fear formed in Angelo Thirteen’s gut. Would they all die? Concern for his crew tightened the coil in his gut. He gripped the edge of his chair. Wanderer flipped upside down and continued its slow roll. Screams intensified.
“Mortimer, disengage pods in twenty seconds.”
He stretched toward the console. With the tip of his finger, he flipped on the com switch. “Crew! Pods will disengage in eighteen seconds. Secure yourself in the nearest pod and close the hatch. Prepare for launch.”
Down the hallway, Chad Seven gripped a com unit attached to the wall. As he tried to pull himself toward the bridge, the muscles in his face contorted, his lips white with strain. Angelo Thirteen’s throat constricted. His co-pilot wouldn’t make it here in time.
Angelo Thirteen waved him away. “Go with the terraformers. Now!”
Chad Seven blinked once. His lips pursed then he disappeared into the galley.
A quick breath escaped Angelo Thirteen. At least his co-pilot was in one of the pods.
“Ten…nine…”
Pulling himself along, he reached the hatch.
“Eight…seven…”
He tugged on the firm metal. The door wouldn’t budge.
His heartbeat pounded at his temple.
“Six…five.”
With a shot of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he yanked on the handle. Screeches emitted from the hinges as the door closed.
“Four…three.”
The seal engaged with a soft whir.
“Two…one.”
A loud clank sent a shockwave reverberating through the ship. Angelo Thirteen glanced at the vid-monitor. Four pods descended toward Iridis. He let loose a loud sigh. His crew would be safe.
“Fire in backup generator.” Mortimer’s voice sent a chill down his arm.
“Extinguish it—”
An explosion shook the pilot pod. The vibration knocked Angelo Thirteen against the bulkhead. White dots formed in his vision. An insistent ping resonated from the console—the oxygen warning. Something warm and wet dribbled over his brow.
The ship’s artificial gravitational field gave out. His boots lost contact with the floor, and he floated into the middle of the room. He couldn’t concentrate, his mind a jumble. Yet, his gaze pulled to the vid-monitor.
Iridis shrank into the distance.
His chest constricted. Drifting in space, he faced his worst fear . . . he was alone. His vision tunneled, and he focused on his lost world, his lost hope, until the darkness engulfed him.
Chapter Two
ELLE WALKED DOWN THE SHIP’S EMPTY CORRIDOR, her boots echoing against the barren synth-fabric walls. A bead of perspiration ran down her neck, over her collar bone, and into her cleavage. Dammit. With a quick tug, she unzipped the neckband on her smooth synthetic body suit. Cool, recycled air filtered through the ship’s vents, caressing her hot skin.
She trailed her fingers over the wall’s smooth surface. The material rippled at her touch. “Thank you, Santek. You always know what I need.”
“I am forever at your service.” His smooth voice tingled her nerves.
Despite the tension in her forehead, a smile tugged at her lips. “If only you were a real male, Santek, if only.” A small twinge tightened her chest. The computer on her ship, Paragon, was as close to a perfect man as she’d ever met. “Given that there are three women to every man back home, I’d gladly take you.”
“I would sacrifice myself to protect you, Captain. It is ingrained in my programming.”
Elle shook her head and tucked a stray strand of her auburn hair over her ear. “Of that, I have no doubt, Santek.”
Most men on Alta were kind and generous, but somehow, the guys who asked her out were just like her father, hard-to-please with hot tempers and bad manners. Not a one of them would ever help, much less sacrifice, for her. Deep inside, she longed to find a different kind of man, someone warmhearted and gentle. Someone who cared about her. Maybe in my dreams.
She passed through the ship’s hatch and scanned the bridge. Montoya, her second in command stood next to her security station, the muscles in her back and shoulders bunched with tension. With a quick turn, she faced Elle. Her yellow eyes flared. Despite her hardened nature, Montoya was as loyal as they came and had stood by Elle’s side on more than one occasion. “What took you so long? The Sandowins have pinged us several times.”
Elle crossed her arms. “They can wait a while longer. Assessment.”
Montoya pursed her lips. Pffttt. “You know as well as I that bartering with the Sandowins is risky at best.”
It was always risky with the Sandowins, two years as a space trafficker had taught Elle that. Her first expedition with her newly purchased ship, the Paragon, was a delivery of tenium, Alta’s only commodity. The mixture of glacial water and iridescent rock particles packed a powerful, seductive punch. At the naive age of twenty-three, she hadn’t fully understood the value of the titillating Altonian beverage. The Sandowins had an affinity for any kind of drink that altered their sensitive nervous systems, and they’d taken advantage of her inexperience, weaseling an extra two liters from her.
She nibbled her lower lip. Selling the highly coveted commodity had allowed her to make regular payments on her ship, but the final lump sum was due soon, very soon. She had yet to make this month’s quota. How could she make the final payment?
Adalyn, Elle’s navigator, communications expert, and best friend, tapped the end of her long nail against her armrest. “Maybe we should look elsewhere for a trade partner.”
Elle’s chest tightened. “No. Toman is running out of time. The winter celebration is fourteen galactic days from now. If we don’t come up with the four hundred credits to get him out of jail…” She placed her fist over her mouth.
“I’m sorry, Elle. I know your younger brother means the world to you. We won’t let him serve a sentence in the mines.” Adalyn gave her a reassuring smile.
Elle appreciated her friend’s support, but it didn’t ease the anger burning in her chest. “The numitite crystals will bring in enough credits to pay off the debt on the ship and get Toman out of prison.”
“I’m with you. Just wanted to suggest alternatives.”
With her throat still tight, Elle’s words came out gruff. “Bring up the holo. I want to speak to our partners.”
> Montoya nodded, her short brown hair curling under her chin. “As you wish, Captain. Santek, light the holo, please.”
A slow rumble emanated from the ship’s belly, as if a great beast awakened. In the middle of the bridge, a giant holographic sphere formed, brightening as the noise intensified. A vision of the current star system formed around the globe. The location of the Sandowins’ spacecraft blinked in red, getting larger until the image of a ship became clear.
The holo flickered, and the spaceship’s bridge appeared, along with the captain—Malachi. Dressed in the traditional Sandowin garb, a long robe draped over his shoulders, the hood covering his head. His features were shadowed, except for the tip of his nose and the deep green of his numerous eyes. The hair on the back of Elle’s neck stood on end.
“Altonian, do you have the tenium as we discussed?” Even through the hologram, his deep voice resonated in Elle’s bones. A shiver lifted goosebumps on her arms.
She jutted out her chin. “Naturally. Altonians are known for adhering to their bargains.” Unlike you, Malachi.
He chuckled, the sound low and predatory. “Very good. I’m glad to hear that.”
“I take it you have sufficient numitite crystals to complete our transaction?” She held her breath.
His green eyes darkened. “Of course. Perhaps you’d like to see for yourself.” He snapped his fingers and the screen shifted.
A cargo hold came into focus, stacks of long tubes lining the grey metal walls. The crack of a whip filled the air.
Elle’s throat tightened.
A humanoid male stumbled into view. The tattered and torn remnants of his shirt hung loose around his shoulders. He glanced behind him. A flinch crossed his features.
Just off-screen a large shadow darkened the floor, and a deep male voice resonated through the holo. “Open one of the containers, slave.”
Baby, it's Cold in Space: Eight Science Fiction Romances Page 1
