Moon Trap: Prehistory of the League of Planetary Systems, #2

By Frank Carey

While attending a UFO Conference in Las Vegas, Lee and Clare are kidnapped by a group of extraterrestrials bent on using Clare's computer skills to gain access to an abandoned lab on Earth's moon. Once inside, Lee, Clare, and the kidnappers find themselves in a trap that none of them may escape alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Carey
• Release date: Dec 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386491996

Frank Carey

Frank Carey has been formally writing and publishing works of science fiction since late 2013. Over the years prior, he had dabbled in various forms of writing including haiku poetry, but that all changed when he and his wife, Jo, decided to try their hand at writing and self-publishing. Since then, he has written and published a collection of flash fiction and short stories, two anthologies, a pentalogy, and a trilogy. All his work, to date, has been in the science fiction genre. Most of his stories take place about two centuries in the future when Earth joins the League of Planetary Systems. Many of his protagonists are strong females. He is an inveterate pantser who believes the story will go where the story wants to go. Frank’s background includes degrees in physics and extensive work as a scientific programmer and technologist.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Ever have one of those dreams which is so disturbing, it wakes you up, yet you forget it the moment you’re awake? Well, I just had one, and it woke me from a deep sleep, though one not deep enough to ward off nightmares. At least it wasn't the one I had a decade ago, the one where I was killed by a combination of philogistan and nanobots, a nightmare based on real events.

Ah, but that was history. Now, I usually had a quiet night with only an occasional dip into the sea of terror we call sleep.

A squint at the clock told me I still had an hour before the alarm, but I was through sleeping, so I got up, took a shower, and dressed for the day ahead before heading out to the suite's kitchenette to make a pot of coffee. As I passed her room, I could hear my partner, Clare Mercer, snoring to beat the band. I remember the first time I heard her somnambulistic singing. I asked her if she ever thought about having a surgeon check her out. She told me not to worry for it was normal for her kind—something about having no nose per se, just a pair of nostrils. Did I mention Clare wasn't human? No, she is a member of the gray alien race who hail from the Zeta Reticuli star system. That's right, Clare is a space alien right out of the movies. She curses like a sailor and snores like a dying elephant, but she and I have been caretakers and friends for over a hundred years, and I can't imagine life without her.

With coffee in hand, I brought up a stack of e-mails we received overnight. Even though we were here in Las Vegas attending a conference on UFOs, we were still expected to keep in touch with our employers. Most of the messages were from Area 51 or the Pivot City Council. Pivot is a small town in New Mexico where people go to celebrate the first alien invasion of planet Earth in modern times. Don't tell anyone, but it was really less of an invasion and more of a grudge match between the crews of two ships.

I scrolled through the messages until I came to one from an unknown sender. After running it past the virus scanner, I opened it and was about to read it when Clare stepped out of her room wearing a robe and bunny slippers.

Unnnggg, she said as she pushed a messy lock of red hair away from her face.

Coffee? I asked while holding up my steaming cup of freshly-poured java.

She shuffled over and grabbed the cup before heading to the bathroom. Unnnggg, she muttered before closing the door behind her.

You're welcome, I said while grabbing another cup. Clare was never a morning person and getting in late last night didn't help matters.

I heard the shower kick on while I went back to reading the strange message. It was from someone named Elanor Irithyl who wanted to meet with us to discuss relocating an exotic animal called a lorse to Area 26. What the hell is a Lorse? I wondered out loud. A click on the image file attached to the e-mail piqued my interest. The beast looked like a horse wearing medieval armor. I zoomed in on the armor and saw it was part of the beast, not something it was wearing. I was impressed.

Clare took that moment to exit the bathroom looking a whole lot more Alue than when she went inside. Silently, she walked over and poured a fresh cup of Joe. After a long drink, she looked at me and smiled. Good Morning!

And a good morning to you. How'd you sleep?

Like a damn rock. How about you?

Good. Where would you like to go for breakfast this morning?

She leaned against the counter and thought for a moment. Waffle House.

I should have known. The woman is a waffle addict, and in her opinion, the House makes the best on the planet.

Waffle House it is. I just need to print out something.

Print away, my indulgent friend, while I drink more of this elixir of life.

I printed the e-mail and pocketed it. Clare had finished her coffee by the time I was ready to go, so she grabbed her purse and we were