Lost On Planet M-142

By Annagail Lynes

Novel 3 in the Jaguar and Peacock Novel Series. Federal Agent Jessa Masters went undercover on the Planet M-142. Suddenly, her communication with her StarVessel is lost. Then someone bombs the business district on the planet. She knows that the cult leader who is being accused of the crime is innocent. How far will Jessa go to prove it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781667105185

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

How’s the produce today, Jada, asked the tall, fiery-red-haired grocer behind the counter of March Mercantile.  He wiped his hands on his crisp, white apron.

I shook the rain and hail from my dark hair, brushing the drops from my navy-blue jacket. Closing the gap between the door and the counter, I took the wicker picnic basket off my arm and lifted it onto the counter. Very good, Saber. This rain has been beneficial for it, I answered, pulling my jacket together as a chill ran through my body.

I had been on this planet, a planet that the Freedom Alliance simply called M-42, for two of their years. Three months--Earth time.

My assignment had been to observe cult leader Danielle Jabot. The Agency had been tracking her for months and had reason to believe that Jabot was going to set up a cult on M-42. I was only supposed to be here for two weeks, but around the middle of the second week, I lost contact with the StarVessel I commanded, the Liberty.

For the past few years, Planet M-42, had been experiencing a drought. Very little precipitation had fallen in the time I had been here. In fact, this was the first downpour in seven years, according to the townspeople.

To make money while on this planet, I built a greenhouse with an artificial watering system. I grew vegetables and sold them to Saber March to sell in his store. As a result, Jada Williams, as I was known to the people of Staroak, the capital city of Planet M-42, had soared to popularity. Suitors buzzed around my apartment door day and night. The married people in town stopped me on the road to introduce me to their nephews, their sons, their fathers or any other young, single men they knew.

But my heart remained with my husband and family. My only goal was to get home to them. Over the last three months, I dreamed of being in Nate’s arms, kissing him, holding Reggie and Remy, having family dinner with Nate, Joey, Colin and the kids.

My fingers reached under my black sweater, holding my locket that held pictures of my family. My first husband, Ben, who had died over a year ago, on one side. Nate, Joey, Colin, the kids and I on the other side.

What was Nate doing at this very moment, I wondered. How were he and the kids getting along without me? What had Nate told Reggie and Remy? What had he told the crew? Did he miss me? I certainly missed him. I bit my lip hard to keep the tears that had threatened to flow from falling.

I rubbed my stomach, glancing down at it. My protruding stomach had become increasingly difficult to explain. I had told the townspeople that I was a widow, that my husband had died. I couldn’t very well tell them that I was pregnant, so I took to wearing baggy clothes and telling people that I had put on a few pounds. And the majority of them accepted it. I had overheard some of the busybodies–Mr. Porter telling Mrs. Atria, She’s pregnant, you know. And by the looks of the men standing outside her door every night, who knows who the father is. I doubt she even knows.

Are you going to the social, Saber interrupted my thoughts as he counted the squash, carrots, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, lentils, transferring them one by one from the basket to the counter. He glanced up at me briefly.

Just as I opened my mouth, I heard a loud noise, the building shook violently like the branches of a tree in a heavy windstorm.  Bright lights flashed in the windows. I felt as if my heart dropped into my boots. I knew what the noise was. I had been in this situation too many times before.

Get down, I ordered Saber, waving at him.

But what about you, he asked, hesitantly. Fear written on his face.

I will be fine. I can handle myself, I reassured him. My lips inched into a smile. Trust me, Saber. He lowered himself behind the counter.

I moved toward the door. The room jerked and thrashed again. The glass of the double doors of March Mercantile shattered right in front of me, spewing glass throughout the room.

Side-stepping the pieces of glass, I grabbed the doorknob and turned it.

Terror ripped through Staroak’s business community. People ran from buildings screaming. Others searched for their loved ones. Buildings that once stood proud crumbled. Smoke rose from the ruined buildings and the ground where stray bombs had landed.

I crossed the quad, surveying the damage to see where I could help. Lord, I uttered under my breath. Show me who I could assist. Before I finished the prayer, I heard the faint cries of someone calling for help. I walked in the direction of the wails until I realized they were coming from the bank. It had taken a hit in the roof. Flames ate away at the building, spreading like lightening through an electric wire. I ripped off my jacket, pulling it over my head. I took a deep breath before entering the building. "Lord, help me find the person.

I ran into the bank. The flames whispered in my ears. The heat so hot that my clothes were melting. Hello! I’m here to help, I screamed, maneuvering through the wall of fire. Then I heard it–-–the weak, tired sob. I rushed in the direction of the cry. I discovered the source—a man trapped under a fallen beam. I reached under the beam, trying to move it. It wouldn’t budge. I quickly took an inventory of my surroundings and found another smaller beam. I grabbed it, moved it under the larger beam, flipping the larger one off the man’s legs. Can you walk, I inquired of the man, offering him my hand.

He put his hand in mine, slowly rising to his feet. He took a few unsure steps before he moaned in pain.

I put his arm around my shoulder. Just lean on me. I’ll get you out of here. As we wove through the flames, the man rested his head on my shoulder. Afraid he was going to lose consciousness, I engaged him in conversation. What’s your name?  Mine is Jada Williams.

Benjamin Trapper, he muttered, coughing.

I smiled to myself. Benjamin was my late husband’s name, I told him, creeping closer and closer to the exit. I sure do miss him.

I’m sorry. How did he die?

Car crash, I replied, continuing to navigate our way through the flames. Do you have any family, Mr. Trapper?

Yeah, a wife and three children.

Really? How old are your children, I prompted. My body ached and sweat poured from every portion of my being, but I forced myself to keep moving. I had to get this man home to his wife and kids.

Five, three and nine months.

We—I mean I have a daughter, seven, and a son, eleven. They are living with my family. I didn’t hear a response, so I quickly said a prayer. Benjamin! Stay with me now. We are almost there.

"More determined than ever, I thrust out my chin and headed toward the entrance. One step, then another and another until I felt the cool air of the outside meet my face. I ran into the coolness, glad to be out of the building. I helped Mr. Trapper over to the nearest bench. I put my hand to my mouth and began coughing uncontrollably for the next few minutes.

For the first time since the ordeal began, I remembered baby Elizabeth. I touched my stomach with my hand, pinching my eyes together. She hadn’t kicked in the past half-hour. Baby Elizabeth always kicked. Oh Elizabeth, I whispered. At the sound of my voice, the baby thrust her little leg into my stomach as if to let me know she was alive and well, kicking.

Who’s Elizabeth, Mr. Trapper questioned, covering his eyes with his hands to block the bright sun. Where am I? He studied his surroundings. I’m in the quad. You did get me out, didn’t you, Ms. Williams?

With quite a bit of help from you, I assured him, touching his hand. We rescued you together, Mr. Trapper.

Don’t be modest, he said in between gasps for air.

That would be uncharacteristic of her, a familiar male voice to my side interjected. My heart pounded at the sound of it.

I looked up into the face of my tall, dark-haired, ruggedly handsome husband.

Oh Jag, I squealed, jumping to my feet. I touched his face, feeling every crevice of it. Is it really you, Jag? Are you really here?

Don’t you ever leave me for this long again, Nate declared, scooping me up into his arms, pressing me against his chest. He kissed my head. I know you told me not to rendezvous with you until next week, but I just couldn’t wait.

What are you talking about? You were supposed to rendezvous with me three months ago, then I lost contact with you, I countered, tilting my head to the side.

Because you sent me a message that you wanted to stay here for three months to continue observing.  You made it clear that  you didn’t want any contact with us to interfere with your cover, he said with grave deliberation. He raked his eyes over me from my head to my feet. Have you lost your memory again, Peak?

I shook my head, regarding him curiously. I never sent you that message, Jag. I’ve been waiting here for months, worrying about what might have happened.

If you didn’t send that message, who did? Nate, maybe for the first time since he arrived, gazed around the quad. "What happened here, Peak?

A bombing, I explained, glancing back at Mr. Trapper. How quickly can we get the medical personnel from the Liberty down here, Jag?

We are orbiting the planet, Peak. I can have them here momentarily.

Please do. Staroak is not equipped to handle a disaster of this magnitude, or of any magnitude really. Their law enforcement consists of a bank security guard named Amos.

Nate slowly nodded, stepping a foot away. I watched as he whispered into his CommLet, a wrist-worn communication device that allowed him to communicate with the Liberty.

When be returned a few seconds later, he announced, "They are on their way.

Within a half hour, the Liberty’s medical personnel infiltrated the quad. Without waiting for instruction, they created a triage situation, determining which people were the most severe and treating them first. That is all but one. Doctor Manning stood around, supervising the others. He occasionally hurled insults at the medical personnel. What had gotten into him? He had always been a little rough around the edges, but this was rude even for him.

Doctor, over here, I called over to him, waving. As he drew closer, his eyes fell upon the red, angry blisters that had formed on my hands. Colonel! Your hands!

Don’t worry about that right now, Doctor. I need you to look at Mr. Trapper, I supplied, gesturing toward Benjamin. I think he may have injured his leg.

Based on what, Colonel?  Have you suddenly graduated medical school in the months that you have left the Liberty in the hands of that incompetent, misfit of a first officer?  His tone, dripping with anger.

I turned and raised my eyebrows at Nate, who only shrugged.

I find it amazing that your bedside manner has gotten worse since I left, Doctor.  I sat back down, giving him a quick once-over.  He looked like a human being, right down to the color of his skin.  No one would ever know without being told that the doctor was filled with circuits and chips rather than blood.  I don't know what bug is crawling through your programming, Doctor, but these people are in need of medical attention, and you are a doctor.  I tilted my head to the side.  Or did you lose your license while I've been gone? 

You get tired of commanding the Liberty, so you spend the next three months on this, glancing around the quad, this forsaken planet, playing missionary to these creatures.  Now you expect me to attend to your pet projects.

You will treat everyone on this planet who needs medical attention, Doctor, or when we rejoin the Liberty we will have a talk in my office about your rudeness, I began, feigning a smile.  I intertwined my fingers behind my neck, scrutinizing him.  A chat I am positive General Graham will want to sit in on.  There will be talk of demotion, relocation, maybe even dismantlement.  None of which will even come close to what I have planned for you.

He walked over to Mr. Trapper and slapped a DiagnMonitor around the man’s wrist. Just by attaching the device to Mr. Trapper' wrist, Doctor Manning was able to read his vitals and blood work.  Significant smoke inhalation, but your organs and blood levels look good, Mister. Trapper.  The doctor rolled up Mr. Trapper' sleeves one at a time, checking the blisters on his arms and hands.  Definite blistering of hands and arms, Mister. Trapper.  Probably the legs and feet also. 

Doctor Manning removed the gray kit that