Raene and the Three Bears (The Alder Tales Book 2)
Page 38
His mouth was pressed into a determined line, but he let her speak, and she knew he measured her every word. “We can do nothing tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll leave for Terrana. I can contact Kaide and get this worked out.” For the moment, she pushed away thoughts of contacting Kaide and all she had to tell him. This wasn’t about her. This was about Da, and keeping Parson from getting them both killed. Raene did her best to maintain the calm she knew her husband needed.
“I can’t just sit by and let them take him.” Parson’s voice was quiet, his words just for her. Raene knew all too well how Parson would take the loss of yet another beloved Frane.
The welled-up tears in her eyes flowed freely, but she didn’t care if he saw. She didn’t care if any of them saw. “Trust me, Parson. This is the way. Let me talk to Kaide. You just have to be patient and take me to Terrana.”
“He’s not in Terrana. He’s in Pyrona. We don’t have enough time—”
Ignoring the pain in her broken arm, Raene clutched his neck, and in his ear, she whispered, “I need you to trust me.”
Parson finally gave in, melting against her, squeezing hard around her waist despite the still-raw wounds there. Behind her, Raene heard the shuffling of boots as the rest of the crowd dissipated. And then, when it was quiet, Parson whispered, “It should be me. I cut down the trees. I made the trade. I killed the Alderai’s men. It should be me.”
“I killed them, too.” Raene released his neck and kissed him hard. “This is what I’m here for. A Pyro princess with political connections. Let me get Da back.”
Parson lowered his eyes and nodded. He knew she was right. When he put aside his anger, he could see the truth of it.
“Let’s go home. We’ll get it sorted in the morning.” Raene breathed easier as Parson walked her back to their tent, helping her sit on the pallet and finally lay down for the night. He curled around her, needing her comfort as much as she needed his.
Raene kissed his forearm where it crossed over her chest. Parson squeezed her and buried his face against her neck, breathing in her scent and savoring her warmth. Lying there with her husband, it was possible to think it would all work out. If only her stomach would quit its nervous twisting.
THE END.
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The Killing Jar
Book One in The Extraction Files
Post-apocalyptic Science Fiction
JACKSON
LRF-PS-100
August 6, 2232
Jackson lowered his tablet to his lap and scratched the idle itch at the back of his neck. It never quite seemed to fade. His eyes remained on the screen, the satellite image of Perkins-196, their most recent find.
Could this be it? At long last, could this be the one?
The holographic projection of the report hovered over his desk. While the spinning scarlet giant rotated on the left, base-level stats scrolled across the right.Size: 1.15x Earth. Gravity: Manageable. Radiation: 79%. Surface Temp: 22.7 °C. Surface Structure: Mostly Aquatic. Orbit: 290 days. Distance: 60 lightyears.
On and on he read, growing ever more hopeful, careful to restrain himself. They had been close so many times.
“Dr. Parr?” Aida interrupted his thoughts from the circular doorway. She bit her lip as she waited for his feedback on her report. As always, her onyx hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, a fashionable white coat draped over her indigo jumpsuit. She was the perfect Scholar.
Jackson sighed. “I tell you, Dr. Perkins, I think you really have something here. We gave up looking at that system fifty years ago. But if one-nine-six has maintained this orbit, it’s certainly a viable option.”
Aida was young, twenty-eight, but more than that, she was enthusiastic, hungry. This report was nothing if not evidence of that.
Fifteen years her senior, Jackson felt ancient by comparison. His dark hair already showed specs of grey. He was drained, through and through.
Aida was good enough to pretend she didn’t notice. “I did have some concerns over the asteroid concentration in the area. My calculations predict sizeable impact three to five times each millennium. That could make the planet quite unstable. You’ll see I noted it here,” she said as she approached and used her fingertip to swipe to the bottom-most section of her report.
“Yes, I see. You do excellent work for us, my dear.” As the Lead Planetary Systems Specialist, Dr. Jackson Parr was required to review each viable exoplanet his trio of researchers found, but he had never had reason to doubt any of them, especially Aida. Jackson always thought she would be the one to find their Goldilocks planet, the one in a billion that could be their future home away from Earth.
He sighed at the thought that perhaps he’d just witnessed her report on that very world.
Jackson skimmed the rest of her report as she stood beside him, but he couldn’t find anything that would remotely deter more intense investigation. “It seems you’ve found us another promising exoplanet. Give Robotics the go ahead to take the initial probe data. Oxygen content. Luminosity. Mineral composition. The works.”
“Thank you, Dr. Parr.” Aida’s tone was measured and even, though he knew her well enough to know when she held back her excitement.
“We’ll all be thanking you one day, Aida.”
A flush of pink filled her copper cheeks. “Thank you, sir.” She darted away before he could say another word, leaving him alone in his office. He sank into his chair with the weight of decades.
When had he become so tired?
Like all Scholars, Jackson thrived on his research, he thrived on his contribution to science, and here at the Lunar Research Facility, he and his team contributed in real and measurable ways. They would play a major role in saving the human race.
Since when was that not enough?
He rubbed the itch on his neck as he scrolled through the other reports from the week, though nothing struck his interest. Niemeyer-99 was too close to a red dwarf with impending implosion within 50,000 years. Hill-124 was an ice planet with a Nitrogen atmosphere. They could terraform it easily enough, but it would take a century—a century they simply didn’t have.
Perkins-196. It was the best option they’d had in a long time, years even. More than anything, Jackson was relieved to think he might get a break. Another six months of research on the planet, and then it would be out of his hands. He would have played his part in preserving his species. Robotics would send a probe to collect surface data. Planetary Colonies would set up a preliminary colony and monitor the test subjects. Nuclear research would analyze radioactive parameters.
Already the weight of so much work, so much data, pressed on his chest until he had to work to breathe.
Maybe he could take a few months off. He was hardly in line to retire anytime soon, but maybe he could work something out.
He needed some time to get away from the stress of it. Maybe it was the LRF. The simulated gravity, the artificial rotation of the moon’s core, the synthetic lights. Humans weren’t meant to live in space. Maybe he just needed to get his feet back on Earth where humans belonged.
But no, the Earth was a cesspool of pollution and rot, radioactivity and starvation. So effectively had the human race destroyed the surface, it would only support life for another nine or ten decades. He would likely never go back.
When did this begin, this suffocating need to return to his dying homeworld? Nostalgia flared up but he hadn’t expected it. Scholars hardly doted on romantic ideals such as home, but still, his heart was heavy to think he would never go back.
A part of him felt like he needed to see it one more time.
Maybe he would, when this was all over.
He would go, he decided. He could afford it. When his work was done, he would have time. It would be his reward, a retirement present to himself. He would think of some justification.
Jackson pulled up Aida’s report and reviewed the preliminary data for the planet that might save them all.Star: Cignus. Planets in System: Nine. Orbit Parameters: Elliptical.Near the end of the report, above the comments section, the rarely-used constellation section caught his eye. Constellations were rudimentary, even in the centuries that valued them. The information was included in their reports more as a tradition than because they served an actual purpose. But for some reason, Jackson noticed this one:Monoceros.
The itch at the back of his neck tingled like needles.
It pressed almost painfully until he couldn’t help but scratch, to rub his fingers across his skin. But they offered no relief. The stinging grew until he dropped his tablet and clawed at his flesh, desperate to quiet the pain. He cried out in agony, eyes wide with panic. Clawing and tearing with no relief. Dr. Jackson Parr died with a scream on his lips.
The Killing Jar—Now Available!
Works by RS McCoy
The Sparks Saga
Sparks
Spirits
Schism
The Luminary Chronicles
The Lightning Luminary
The Sea Shade
The Alder Tales
Blossom and the Beast
Raene and the Three Bears
Hale and Gemini
The Snow Owl
The Extraction Files
The Killing Jar
The Lethal Agent
RS McCoy on Amazon
About RS McCoy
Rachel McCoy is a Texan living in New Jersey. Between binge-watching MTV reality shows and baking gluten-free treats, she writes paranormal fantasy and science fiction novels.
She is the self-published author of the Sparks Saga trilogy, The Alder Tales series, and The Extraction Files. Back when she lived in the real world, Rachel earned a degree in marine biology, which contributed to her die-hard love of manta rays.
To connect with RS McCoy (or swap recipes), visit her on her website (www.rsmccoyauthor.com) or check out her Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/AuthorRSMcCoy). You can also join her newsletter to receive release updates, free stories, and bonus extras (http://eepurl.com/YItp1).
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