Revolution Lovers: A Sci Fi romance

By Jocelyn Modo

Sizzling romance in deep space

• Language: English
• Publisher: DoctorZed Publishing
• Release date: Jun 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9780648347330

Jocelyn Modo

American Sci Fi author Jocelyn brings you her latest sizzling romance.

Book preview

Nineteen

Prologue

Sedna, Elppa’s largest desert. Day 546 of the Elppa-Petulo War.

Adie. Adie, do you copy? Merker’s voice broke through the desert’s darkness.

Adie snarled as she shifted her position in the hot sand to reach for her palm-sized communicator.

So much for comm silence. Did Merker want to get her killed? Covert ops meant undercover, damn it. The comm signal could tip off enemy positions close enough to hear.

Copy, she muttered, the mic close to her chapped lips.

You need to get your ass back here. Merker’s deep voice held a strange note, making Adie think he was screwing with her.

Taking a sip of sweet-tasting electrolyte water, she swished it around her mouth before swallowing. I just dug in.

Well now we need you back. Sharp. Biting.

She sighed and scratched around the healing incision-site between her breasts, which was just another reason to be pissed at Merker. He’d volunteered her to test an experimental tracking device. Damn thing felt like a rock in her chest. Asshole.

What’s the status?

Woman, your orders are to return to base. Now move out, he barked.

Adie winced, dialing down the volume on her comm. She hated it when he called her woman, making the word sound like an insult.

I haven’t completed my mission.

Yeah, well, you need to learn to follow orders.

Damn it, Merker. He wasn’t part of her Unit—the Nix Unit—but his orders superseded the chain of command. She had no choice.

He snorted. I’ll take that as an affirmative.

The comm clicked off. Adie slithered on her belly down the smooth backslope of the sand dune, away from the subterranean Petulo camp, aborting her mission. Just as well. The heavily-shielded site she’d scouted looked impenetrable. Attempting to breach its lines would be suicidal. Still, it sunk her mood to slink off into the dark, hyper-arid desert without first exploring all her options, never mind that her damn enviro-bot had failed and was still working to repair itself.

She started walking.

Seventeen hours into the return trek, she could no longer deny the obvious. Base camp should have been reached in less than ten hours, which meant her nav-sys had malfunctioned. She could be anywhere.

Anywhere and out of water.

The sun, a retina-searing ball of fury, blasted the desert with dry heat. Adie’s mouth stopped producing saliva. The creases in her swollen lips cracked open but didn’t bleed. A bad sign, meaning dehydration had thickened her blood, turning it to sludge.

She wiped at her sand-blasted goggles and tried to focus on the rippled slip-face of the next crescentic dune. Her vision blurred. Her eyeballs felt like they were shriveling up in their sockets.

Muscles weak and cramping, she tripped and fell.

Her arms tried to catch her, but her reflexes stalled. She did a hard face-plant. Sand poured into her mouth, coating her tongue and sticking to the inside of her cheeks. She gagged and coughed but didn’t have sufficient saliva to spit it out. Using all of her will, she pushed herself up on her knees and used her index finger to clear her mouth.

If only the air would breathe. Even a small breeze would soothe her baking body.

Images of her home planet, Spath and the vast rainforests it had been known for, filled her mind’s eye like a damp dream. Relying on her training, she forced the humid memories away and herself to her feet. Her head pulsed as she took another step. Her vision narrowed and grew dark.

Merker, I’m going to maim you.

He’d sent her on this mission with inferior equipment then commanded her to return before she’d accomplished anything.

It was off. The whole thing was off.

The enviro-bot beeped. Repaired? Adie wrestled the bot from her pocket and fumbled for the on button, holding her breath.

Please.

An environmental shield wavered in the air like a giant soap bubble. With a pop, it enveloped her. The temperature dropped. She took a hesitant breath. The moisture-enriched air filled her lungs and swathed her body. A thick mist of isotonic solution containing electrolytes, glucose and water misted her mouth.

Saved. Thank gods.

After two hours recovery time, she forced herself to trudge on, fantasizing about the end of the war and the bitter-sweet taste of frosted bottles of Cerberian alcohol.

When a squadron of Petulo soldiers wavered into view on the crest of a dune, she almost thought them an illusion. She activated the dach-prism in her goggles, turning them into binoculars and adjusted the magnification.

Fuck. Still there.

Nine shield-blurred soldiers headed toward her, their strides long and stable as if they hadn’t been walking long.

She pulled a string of gray-white mines from her pack, plucked the osmium spheres from the strip and threw them one by one between her and the oncoming soldiers.

The widespread barrier of mines would delay the enemy, not stop them. Better than nothing.

She lurched away as fast as her fatigued muscles permitted and tried to activate her comm again.

Base. Base, do you copy? Her voice cracked.

Silence.

She looked over her tense shoulder.

The soldiers steadily approached, dark goggle-encased eyes peering out from gold hoods. Minesweeper-bots ran scans in front of their brown-booted feet. Not only did Petulo have superior numbers, they also had more advanced technology.

Adie to base. Do you read? I’ve been spotted. My coordinates are… Shit. My nav-sys is down. Request triangulation of coordinates and immediate backup.

Still, no response. Why wasn’t the damn thing working? She shook her comm, like that would help.

Maybe Merker was already tracing her through the experimental implant she had in her chest, she hoped desperately.

Then again the device was probably defective like all her other shit.

She pressed the yellow ‘repeat and send’ button as the soldiers inspected her perimeter. Even if base heard her, they could take hours to arrive at her position. She only had minutes until the enemy squad captured or killed her.

Gods, she croaked a prayer. Please don’t let them kill me.

When the enemy soldiers breached her paltry perimeter, she sprayed them with explosive bullets, which hit their translucent shields and dropped to the ground like birds flying into a window and falling dead. Her enemy didn’t bother to return fire but advanced on her from behind their superior shields until her ammunition ran dry.

Dry like the desert. Dry like her blood.

Desperation quickened her muscles. She pulled a serrated knife from her belt. A soldier lunged. Another knocked the knife from her weary-weak hand and hit her with a bolt of electricity. Her body seized. The tracking implant in her chest burned. Her mind shut down.

Chapter One

Tsol, Nede’s inner city. Day 961 of Petulo occupation of Elppa.

Adie Perrin sat in a worn booth at the Hit or Miss Bar, downing her third bottle of cheap Cerberian alcohol, wanting nothing more than to go unnoticed.

Tonight she had a mission: drink until the green-gold alcohol consumed every vestige of pain. And unlike her previous assignment, her final mission of the interplanetary war, she’d complete this one. Hell, not even a legion of Petulo soldiers could stop her from getting drunk tonight.

After taking the last bitter swallow from her third bottle of alcohol, she uncrumpled the last of her credits. She had enough for two more Cerberians, then she’d be finished. Finished drinking. Finished fighting. Finished living.

Finished.

This gave her a sad sort of satisfaction, the knowledge that she had come to the end of it all. She felt ready for it, ready to let go and fall.

Adie dropped her chin, allowing her dark red hair to hide her scarred face before waving down a worn-out waiter. The crammed-in crowd forced her to shout her order up to the tall man. How he heard her over the cacophony of drunkenness, she didn’t know. Maybe he read lips or minds. Either talent would work to the benefit of the staff at her favorite crap bar.

While waiting for the alcohol to arrive, thoughts of the last couple of years surfaced. Tonight she celebrated an anniversary of sorts. It had been two years to the day since her body and all its parts had belonged to her instead of the Petulo Commander who had captured her at the end of the interplanetary war.

Memories surfaced. A laser blade burning through her skin. Precise, intricate designs branded on her belly, her back, her face. The sound of her own screams. That smell…

She gagged, her eyes and nose watering. Her stomach cramping.

She’d endured the torture for nothing. Her Unit had died before she had even regained consciousness, making the secrets she fought so hard to keep worthless.

Adie forced the memories away with another swallow of alcohol.

The waiter plunked the fresh bottles on the table, jerking her back to the present.

On the house. He gave her a toothy smile, a low bow. It’s an honor to serve you, Soldier Perrin.

Damn. He’d recognized her.

She slid the last of her credits to the edge of the table and glared. He had to be new to try that shit with her. Thankfully she had a glare as deadly as any of her former weapons. Grinding her teeth, she rolled her eyes up to meet his gaze and let her stank eye do the talking.

With a shaky hand, he snatched up the slick, circular credits and hurried away.

She grabbed the frosted bottle closest to her and added a handful of pain-deflectors to her suicide cocktail. She already inhaled baggie of her favorite street drug, Nevermind before limping down the block to visit Hit or Miss for the last time.

The pain-deflectors melted in the Cerberian, changing the color to murky brown. She plugged her nose and guzzled. Yeah, she was something special, wasn’t she, a real role model. She snorted her disgust with herself and everybody else.

Gods, when would everyone stop seeing her as a war hero? When would they realize she was nothing more than a fool who didn't know when to let go?

Well, she planned to let go tonight. Tipping the bottle up to her lips, Adie shuttered her eyes and let the liquid fire burn through the broken house of her soul.

*****

Prince Zin hilorden Kanear wanted to run. Take off down the fifth-floor corridor. His arms pumping in time with his legs. Pound out his anger with each step he took. Ignore his enemy the Petulo Guard. Pretend that they didn’t line the walls of his palace like well-armed statues and steal from his home planet like insects ravishing Elppa’s resources.

Gods, did he hate this. Hated that he was more prisoner than prince.

He was sick—sick to death—of living a lie.

Soon this farce will end, he thought, glairing at the enemy guard as he forced himself to keep a steady walking pace.

His beloved planet Elppa had fallen but their enemy, King Uboror, had seen value in leaving Zin’s family in place as figureheads. Uboror’s reasoning made sense. The Elppan people were less likely to rebel against Petulo rule while their beloved Royal Family remained perched in the palace above their capital city, Nede.

Blowing out a restless breath, Zin rounded the corner and entered his mother’s peach-pink rooms without requesting permission—she wasn’t there. Great murals of her favorite fish, the dearest, were done in coral, rose and puce. The ceiling shown with a sunset done in shades of pink and hints of gold. Zin had learned long ago to fix his eyes on the lavender floor to keep from going blind in his mother’s private space.

In her magenta bedroom, he approached her main wardrobe—a hulking piece of furniture with the kind of intricate scroll work that aged it several centuries past—and slid it away from the wall with the help of the budge-bots fixed to its clawed feet.

I won’t do it, he thought, jabbing the twelve-digit code into the secret access panel the wardrobe concealed. The hidden door recessed, squealing as it slid right—they needed to get fixed.

He stalked down the dark tunnel, navigating by using the canons of the Tildi faith that were carved into the walls. When he came to the canon that said, The Sky Path is the only path to the gods, he knew he had reached the unassuming temple entrance.

His family waited for him in the privacy of the palace’s secret Tildi Temple. The smell of sweet and spicy incense filled his nose and mouth as he walked in to a conversation already in progress and clenched his jaw.

Great. It’s not like my whole life is on the line.

That we know of King Uboror’s plans before the pronouncement is made allows for options we would not have otherwise, Zin’s father, the dethroned King Stradauss hilorden Kanear said from where he stood with his arms crossed over his wide chest near the sacred Tildi inner sphere.

Zin scrubbed his prickly, unshaven face with his hands while he processed and released the anxiety his family was giving off. Their emotions rolled off them in waves to slam into him giving him an immediate screaming headache. His ability to sense emotions had one hell of a down side especially when his own emotions were unstable.

Tellow, the baby of the family, lifted her lips into a light smile when he met her pale gold eyes, a master of masking the physical manifestations of her emotions.

If only I had such control.

He glanced at Kyll who raised his eyebrows and smirked at him. But the worry Zin felt from his younger brother belied the mocking look.

His father cleared his throat—a phlegm-coated sound—and continued, I’m concerned that the marriage of Elppa’s heir apparent to a Petulo lordia would do irreparable damage to the integrity we have recaptured with our people.

Zin worried more about what his marriage would do to the hard won respect he’d cultivated with the underground rebellion. He studied his father’s stoic face, recalling the many fights they’d had over his involvement in the rebellion.

His father believed that as first born Zin’s life was simply more important than any others. Zin believed he should not ask of his people what he would not give of himself.

It was an old argument. One he would not instigate again tonight. The important thing was that his father and king hadn’t ordered him to exclude himself from the rebellion. But only because many Tildi depended on him to hide them from Petulo’s religious police.

If there was anything his father was more loyal to than Elppa, it was to the Tildi faith.

Zin turned his attention to his mother, the dethroned Queen Lista hilordia Votch-Kanear, as she paced the main aisle between the long rows of low, pillowed seats. With a confident charisma that negated age, at sixty-four she was still one of Elppa’s great beauties and an icon in her own right.

You cannot marry Lordia Gardoll, Zin. It would be a disaster. We must find an alternative. She hooked her graceful hands on her plush hips, frowning. Her full peach-colored skirts made a swishing sound with each step she took.

What if he marries an Elppan lordia before King Uboror can make his decree? Tellow asked, twirling a lock of white-blond hair around her manicured ring finger.

As one, his family turned to Zin. Their silence demanded a response.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he considered the option. An Elppan lordia would suffice in preventing Uboror’s pronouncement, but he could do better than that. An irrepressible smile took up residence on his face. He would turn the situation in their favor.

Not a lordia. A war hero. Someone the people respect and love. He turned to his brother Kyll. Ask Evan Burton to assist in the search. As head of Veteran Advocacy, he’ll have access to the records we need.

Kyll nodded but didn’t move. When all eyes remained on him, he rolled his dark gold eyes and asked, What? Now?

We’ve little time, their father said, stepping away from the divine-of-divines sphere. Uboror makes the pronouncement in the morning.

Right. Kyll used vid-bots to confirm that their mother’s quarters were empty then hurried from the temple.

Two hours later, he contacted his family and asked that they return to the temple. When they all arrived, he handed Zin a palm-sized tab.

Adie Perrin, he said, looking over Zin’s shoulder at the information he’d gathered.

Zin lost his breath.

Of course, Lorden Burton would suggest Adie. Zin had asked for a war hero. And Adie Perrin’s name was synonymous with heroism on Elppa.

She’s perfect. Kyll quirked his head at Zin as if studying his reaction. Look at her record.

Zin perused the tab to placate Kyll.

After losing her family at age seventeen in Petulo's first strike against the planet Spath, Adie Perrin had joined the army Elppan Army. Her skilled passion won her a place among the army's most elite Unit—the Nix. And the Nix Unit had held out when Petulo had killed or captured all others in the Sedna Desert and Adie Perrin had held out long after Petulo had slaughtered her entire Unit.

But Zin already knew this. More importantly, he knew what he had done to her.

He couldn’t marry her, could he? If she discovered…but marrying her might grant him the ability to atone for his mistake. It could put an end to the acidic guilt that ate at him since his first day as Elppa's commander and the tragic aftermath of his orders. Three hundred and two Nix soldiers killed. One left to be tortured by enemy hands.

He couldn’t save her then. But now he had a chance.

*****

Less than an hour later, Zin stood outside the Hit or Miss bar disguised as a poor wharf merchant reworking a marriage proposal in his hooded-head. When he decided he had perfected the wording, he took a deep breath of industrial air, signaled his personal guard to fall back and entered the bar.

The door whooshed closed behind him and he felt like he had walked into a summit for the now defunct United Planets. So many languages rang off the walls that his translator, a small implant at the base of his brain, became overwhelmed and shut down with what sounded like a disgusted grunt.

Great. Two steps inside and something had already gone wrong. Never mind. The damn translator could be repaired once he returned home. He knew from Adie’s file that she spoke Elppan as a second language.

He pushed his way into the mass of people, pulled his hood lower to hide his face and tried to look like he belonged. His six-foot-four frame allowed him to scan the diverse throng from one spot instead of having to make a slow foot search of the bar. His empathic ability allowed him to scan the crowd’s emotions in a practiced sweep.

He found Adie Perrin sitting in the one uncrowded area and smiled. Only great respect could win one such a boon in a place like Hit or Miss.

He forced his way through the dense crowd, breathing through his mouth to avoid choking on the smell of alcohol, drugs and body odor wafting through the room. When he finally arrived at her booth, he cleared his throat to make his well-practiced introduction. But before he could speak, there was a stark change in the atmosphere of the place. He looked over his shoulder.

Petulo soldiers had entered the bar.

Two of them. Dressed in fitted gold uniforms, they scanned the room. The sneers on their faces showed their distaste. Zin lurched around, ducking his head as he slid into the cushy back booth. He crouched low and peered around a lanky waitress.

Someone might have noticed his absence from the palace. Were the soldiers here looking for him? Possible. But probable?

Get up and walk away.

Adie Perrin’s words sounded loud in a room that suddenly sulked under the watchful eyes of the Petulo soldiers. Zin jerked around in his seat to face her. His mouth opened, shut, then opened again. Still, no sound made its way from his dry throat.

In the veteran hospital, she had looked like a battered corpse. Now she looked like an avenging goddess—black lashes and dark blood-red brows framed large blue-blue eyes. Her thick auburn hair fell past her shoulders in long, soft waves, partially obscuring her scarred face. Zin refused to allow his eyes to look away from her multitude of scars though he cringed inside at the sight of them. She bore the physical manifestation of the worst mistake of his life.

Her eyes flashed at him like twin blue flames. He should say something. The Petulo soldiers circled the room, stopping at each table, cataloging the faces of the bar’s glowering patrons.

He had little time to explain the situation and get them both to safety. Still he sat speechlessly staring at the woman he planned to make his wife.

*****

The hooded man invading Adie’s hard-won booth was staring at her. Even though she didn’t own a mirror, she knew what she looked like. They called Elppa the Planet of Mirrors because almost everything was made from speculum material, which Elppans used to gather energy from the too-distant sun.

Even at night, the streets shone bright with energy gathered by the giant sun towers lining the equator and the mirrored satellites circling the planet. She couldn’t walk the three blocks from her apartment to Hit or Miss without having her disfigurement reflected back to her on all the highly polished mirrored surfaces. She sure as hell didn't need some beautiful asshole reminding her of what she so desperately wanted to forget tonight.

And he was beautiful.

His faded blue hooded cape seemed to frame his aristocratic features instead of hide them in shadow. The unusual shape of his eyes—curved slightly upward at the outer edges—gave him a feline quality that captivated her inebriated mind, but not so much that the appearance of a Petulo soldier didn’t slap her out of her drunken stupor.

Her gut screamed that the man sitting across from her didn’t belong in this region of town. He was likely the target the guards searched for and she wanted no part of him.

I said, get up and walk away. She slammed down her fifth and last bottle of Cerberian. Foam spilled down the bottle’s neck and over her hand, making her skin tingle from all the tiny popping bubbles.

Hating to waste the alcohol, she contemplated slurping the yummy foam from her fingers but decided the action would detract from the threat in her words. Ignoring the spill, she kept a steady glare on the somehow familiar face.

He furrowed his brow. Then, voice hard, he said, I came here to find you, Adie Perrin. I need your help. Elppa needs your help.

Taken aback by his tone, she hesitated to tell him to fuck off. No one dared to demand anything of her since the day she woke up half-dead in Sweet Mercy Veteran’s Hospital.

Shock had her asking, What would Elppa have of me?

Instantly she regretted her words. This man's problems had no part in her plan. Tonight was supposed to be her last night.

He leaned across the sticky table and stopped a couple of inches from her face. His sweet-smelling breath whispered over her. His full lips—slightly parted—prompted the asinine impulse to take hold of his hooded cape and pull him into a messy kiss, but what he said next cured her of the whim.

I’m Prince Zin hilorden Kanear. I’ve come here in search of your assistance. Please. He took her wet hand and gazed into her face like some kind of fairytale prince. You must come with me now. I’m hunted by Petulo soldiers.

She snatched her hand away and scowled at him, waited for him to drop his gaze. He didn’t back down. She should take her own advice and get up and walk away, especially if he had Petulo soldiers after him. Instead, she sat there thinking over his words, hesitating to react in a rational, reasonable manner.

The honor of being the last surviving Nix soldier belonged to her. Maybe the Royal Family needed her for a suicide mission. Maybe she had just found a way out that did not reek of cowardice. Yeah, maybe she could honor her Nix sisters and brothers one last time before falling